#silver made a good point and she's like oh shit?

[zeppelinlvr]

Taking a Walk

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Sam, Dean and you get done with a hunt, you're starving and tired and Dean is happy to get you food and cuddle in bed.

Notes: guys I promise the end isn't supposed to be sad, I just feel like dean has trouble saying 'I love you' (so don't take it to heart), also thank you for the support on my previous fic!

Warnings: Fluff, cursing, suggestive language, gas station hot dogs

w.c: 1.4k

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You groaned as you got into the backseat of the impala. You luckily left the hunt with no more than the usual scrapes, expecting a few bruises to appear in the next day or two. Your legs burned like all hell and you wanted nothing more than to shower and get in bed. 

Dean got into the driver's seat and Sam in the passenger, the two bickering about something petty you didn’t care to pay attention to at the moment. 

Sam glanced back at you, sprawled out in the backseat, uncomfortably trying to lay down and rub your aching legs. 

“You alright back there?” He asked, a small laugh escaping.

“No i need some aspirin and a fucking gas station hot dog” you shot back

“Must be hungry, she never eats that kind of crap” Dean remarked, starting the car and unbeknownst to you peeling off to find the nearest gas station, he knew how you acted when you were hungry and tired and he didn’t want to let you get to that point. 

You found a wrapper that had been discarded in the backseat and threw it at the back of Deans head “if you would’ve let me bring my fucking purse I would’ve had my aspirin and my granola bar” you muttered, annoyed he made you leave your bag at the hotel. 

“Okay Mary Poppins, something could have grabbed that purse of yours and dragged you away” He told you, continually increasing his speed, trying to get to a gas station or somewhere with food as soon as he could. 

Dean barreled around a corner far too quickly making you groan “I get carsick be careful” 

“That's an excuse for pussies who want to sit in the front seat sweetheart,” Dean said, his eyes catching a lit up sign of a local gas station in the distance. 

“It is not, I really do get-“ you were cut off by the car reeling to a stop 

“Come on, we’re getting you your fucking gas station hot dog” Dean said as he opened his door, then yours, helping you out of the backseat. 

“Wait Sammy do you want anything?” you quickly asked as Dean wrapped his arm around your shoulder 

“God no” he said “thank you for asking though” he added giving you a small smile 

“Okay, don’t get kidnapped” you replied and teasingly blew him a kiss earning a scoff from Dean. 

You headed straight towards the questionable looking hot dogs rolling on a silver grill. Dean right behind you.

“This shit looks so good I can't lie” you said to Dean with a laugh.

“I don’t know if your vision gets warped when you’re hungry but whatever floats your boat sweet cheeks” Dean replied, giving you a look with a raised brow. 

You loaded up a few shitty hotdogs with all the condiments your heart desired, you were ready to follow Dean to pay when you noticed a slushy machine

“Oh my god I want a slushy” you squealed, definitely too excited over the frozen drink. 

Dean gave a small laugh at your excitement but he really did love how the smallest things made you so happy. “I’ll take your dogs, go get one” he told you

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you quickly made your way over to the machine, grabbing a cup and filling it with your favorite flavor, making sure every bit through the dome shaped lid was filled with the drink. 

“Didn’t know you were a pro slushy maker” Dean commented upon seeing your determination that the entire cup was filled.

“Got to get my money's worth” you shrugged 

Dean paid for your hot dogs and slushy and the two of you headed back to the car, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek and thanked him for getting you the food you desperately needed before you crawled into the backseat.

He handed you the hot dogs but not your slushy “I am not letting you get this sticky shit all over my backseat, Sam’s gonna hold your slushy and you can have it when we get back to the motel” he told you

You and Sam began to protest, you complaining it would melt and Sam not wanting to hold a freezing drink in his hand. 

“This is not a discussion, we're five minutes away, you big babies will survive” Dean said, passing the drink off to Sam then shutting his door and starting the car. 

“You seemed to have no problem with sticky shit getting on this backseat last night” you muttered before taking a bite of your hot dog.

“Ew what the hell” Sam exclaimed “you said you guys were going on a walk” 

“Sam when have either of us ever had any interest in going on walks” Dean said flatly 

Sam made a face that could only begin to show how sickened he was by the conversation.

“Dean I know you’re probably dying to listen to some Barry Manilow right now, but can you please throw in some Zeppelin or the Velvet Underground” you said, poking at the fact both of you hated Barry Manilow.

“Not in the mood for your hippie doo dah Velvet shit, you want Zeppelin 4 or Houses of the Holy?” 

“Houses of the Holy, please and thank you” you replied, squeezing his shoulder as an attempted emphasis on your gratitude. 

The tape started up on D’yer Mak’er, not having been rewound since the last time it was played. 

The song ended as you pulled into the parking lot of the motel. 

“I get the shower first” you quickly said

“Fine, but you have 20 minutes, me and Sam aren’t going to sit in stinky clothes for an hour while you take a long ass shower” Dean replied to you 

“Okay Dr. Seuss” you replied with a roll of your eyes.

“What about your slushy?” Sam asked fake annoyance lacing his tone. 

“I’ll chug it before I get in the shower, give it to me” you told him, holding your hand out, you began to quickly drink down the slushy as Dean unlocked the door to the room. 

“atta girl” Dean teased as he noticed your actions. 

Your head throbbed from the slushy but you managed to drink most of it, you discarded it then made your way to the shower. 

You heard a banging at the door as you were finishing up, you shut the water off then wrapped a towel around yourself and your hair. 

“I said 20 minutes sweetheart” Dean yelled through the door.

You opened the door, a cold wave of air hitting you in contrast to the warmth of the bathroom. 

“Do you mind if I do my hair and skincare while you shower?” you asked him

“Go right ahead” he replied, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He quickly began to undress, noticing you unable to take your eyes off his figure. 

“Like what you see?” he teased, a smirk playing at his face

You raised your eyebrows in response “we might have to go on a walk again” you laughed and pushed his shoulder slightly. 

He chuckled at your comment then turned on the water and hopped in the shower. 

You had gotten ready for bed and had your pajamas on by the time Dean got out of the shower. You laid in bed and read a book not involving some kind of entity, just one for your own pleasure. Sam went to shower and Dean climbed into bed next to you, heat radiating off of him from the warmth of the water, his hair still slightly damp. You set your book down upon feeling his presence next to you. 

“Thanks for getting me those hot dogs” you laughed “I’m sorry I was grouchy, I was really hungry” 

“It's okay sweetheart, I’m glad to get you food when you need it” he told you as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“You okay if I shut the lamp off, I’m really tired” you asked him. 

He hummed in response, pulling you into him after you had shut the light off. He wrapped his arms around your waist and your back was against his chest, you felt his breathing calm against you. You snuggled into him, wiggling your butt against his crotch in the process earning a response of “don't do that” from him, you giggled slightly at his words. 

“I love you Dean” you said as you shut your eyes. 

“You too y/n” he uttered out already half asleep, as he pressed a kiss to the back of your head. 

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[imfinereallyy]

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2

pt. 1 pt. 3

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.

He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.

Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.

Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.

Little shit.

Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.

Looking at you, Lucas.

Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.

Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.

Until he did, with Eddie.

Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.

Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.

Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.

"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"

"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.

Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.

She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.

Fuck, he loved her.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.

Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.

"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.

Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.

"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.

Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.

Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"

Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"

Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."

Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."

Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.

Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."

Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."

Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"

"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."

"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.

Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.

"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."

Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.

Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.

Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.

Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.

"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.

"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."

Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"

"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.

Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."

Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."

The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."

Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."

Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"

It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."

"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.

Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.

Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso

(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)

[lemoncrushh]

Tattooed Heart - Part I

SUMMARY: You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion.

PAIRING: Waitress Y/N x Artist/Tattoo Artist Harry

TROPES: Enemies to Lovers

MUST BE 18+ TO READ

WORD COUNT: 4K+

STORY PAGE

You could spot the birthday parties from across the room. Beautiful, rich kids and socialites tend to go all out, with the balloons and banners, ordering bottles or at the very least, top shelf cocktails by the dozens. On occasion, you might get a wealthy middle-aged businessman, or some guy who just made his first half-mil in crypto, ready to live it up for the night, but they usually kept a lower profile, not attracting as much attention to their celebration.

Zelda’s was a swanky, high-dollar lounge for the rich and the wannabes. In your two years as a cocktail waitress there, you’d learned how to spot the difference. Those with money knew how to spend it. Those that were only there for one evening of “let’s pretend” spent frivolously, cashing it in before - or sometimes after - going belly-up.

Tonight seemed to be just like every other weekend evening, the corner booths filled with decorations and Gucci-lipped twenty-somethings taking cell phone pics of each other. You gave your best fake smile, ready to serve anyone willing to blow a few hundred on drinks and hopefully dishing out hefty tips.

“What can I get you, doll?” you asked the blond at the end of the half-circle booth.

She gave you a quizzical look at first, as though you had just interrupted a private conversation. Then with a flip of her hair, she smiled at her group.

“Oh, I think Harry was gonna order for us all,” she said. “It’s his birthday.”

“And which one is Harry?” you grinned at the three young men who shared the booth, all dressed in suit jackets with their shirts unbuttoned past their pecs. Everyone at the table pointed to the dark-haired guy who sat in the center with his hands up.

“That would be me,” he remarked nonchalantly in a syrupy British accent.

“Well, Happy Birthday, Harry,” you raised your voice over the loud music. “What are we having for this celebration?”

“Tequila, the best you’ve got,” he replied, his ringed finger gesturing in a circle. “All around. And a bottle of Cristal.”

Two of the girls at the table cheered, clearly impressed with Harry’s selection.

“Sounds like a good party to me,” you nodded. “Be right back.”

Heading over to the bar, you heard the group cackle behind you. Then one of the girls shouted, “Stop it!” When you reached the edge of the bar, giving John, the bartender your order, you snuck a glance over at the table. The girl sitting next to Harry held her cell phone up to take a photo, the birthday boy with his tongue in her ear. Clearly the group had gotten a head start on drinks before they’d ever arrived.

“Another one of those, huh, Y/N?” scoffed John.

“Same shit, different day,” you commented, shaking your head. “Gimme one of the birthday glasses, will you?”

“Ah, which Paris Hilton wannabe is the birthday girl? Lemme guess…the blonde in the silver bandeau top getting her ear tongue fucked.”

You chuckled. “Try the fucker.”

“Oh yeah?” John raised a brow, placing the bottle of Cristal on your tray. “The himbo, eh? Wouldn’t have guessed it.”

“Why not?”

“Imposter Armani suit? I can spot it a mile away, honey.”

You laughed as he finished pouring the tequila. “Guess he’s out of his element. But he obviously wants to impress on his birthday.”

“From the look of the caliber of girls he’s with, I’d say I don’t blame him.”

You nodded, carefully taking the tray. You knew what John meant. Harry may have not been the typical socialite to walk through Zelda’s doors, but the women in his company obviously were. And they expected to be treated as such.

Returning to the table, you gave your biggest smile as you set out the tequila. You noticed Harry eyeing you as the rest of the group claimed a glass.

“This is your best tequila?” he asked, almost in a huff as though you couldn’t have possibly selected the best.

“Definitely,” you replied. “It’s a Siete Leguas.”

“Hmm.” Lifting his glass, he let the liquid swirl before taking a sniff.

“Smells good to me,” remarked the blond next to him. “But I don’t know much about tequila.”

Harry took a slow sip, his eyes still on you above the rim of his glass.

“What d’ya say, H?” asked one of the other gentlemen.

“It’ll do.”

Trying your best not to react negatively, you chewed your bottom lip. “I can get you something else if you like.”

“I said it’s fine.”

Not bothering to mask your frown, you took a deep breath through your nostrils. This was gonna be a long night.

“Would you like me to pop the champagne now?” you asked.

“Sure, go ahead,” Harry gestured with his hand, taking another sip of his tequila.

Taking the bottle, you opened it with finesse, just the way you’d been taught and had been doing since you’d started working at Zelda’s. The girls all cheered when the cork popped. Harry, however, was not impressed.

Grabbing the special birthday glass, you began to pour.

“What the fuck is that?” spat Harry.

“It’s for you,” you smiled.

“I don’t want that. Gimme one of the regular champagne glasses.”

“I’ll take it!” beamed the blond on the end. “It’s cute!”

Harry rolled his eyes before handing the glass to her with a smirk.

“Here, Tawnie,” he said. “Pretend it’s your birthday.”

“Aw, yay!” she giggled with glee.

Trying to keep your composure, you poured another glass of Cristal, handing it to Harry.

“Shouldn’t ladies go first?” he remarked, scooting the glass to the girl next to him.

“God, I’m gonna be so wasted,” she laughed.

Swallowing hard, you knew where this was headed, so you poured champagne for the other two girls, then passed around the remaining glasses to the guys, leaving the last for Harry.

“Happy Birthday,” you said again, this time with no enthusiasm. “Enjoy.”

Leaving the bottle on the table, you turned away, cursing under your breath before making your way back to the bar.

“Jesus fucking Christ, kill me now,” you whined at John.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s a petulant, disrespectful asshole!”

“The good looking ones usually are,” John sighed.

“You think he’s good looking?” you twisted slightly to look over at the booth. Harry was laughing at something one of the other guys had said.

“Honey, don’t tell me you didn’t notice!” chuckled John.

“I was too busy wanting to pour tequila over his head,” you grimaced.

“Well, try not to let it get to you, hon. Just be your sweet self, and get that massive tip. The night will be over, and you’ll never have to see him again.”

With a nod and a sigh, you took the refills for the next table, handing them out with a bright smile. The older gentlemen gave you a thanks and a wink, one of them patting your behind as you bent over. You hated being fondled at work, but if you had a choice, you’d take that any day over dealing with jerks like Harry.

“Excuse me!” you heard someone shout as you started to make your way back to the bar. Speak of the devil.

“Yes?” you grinned, stepping over to Harry’s table. “What can I do for you?”

“Can I get a glass of wat-” asked a brunette before Harry rudely interrupted.

“We need water,” he said, accusingly.

“Sure, no problem. All around?”

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes. Apparently this man lived to be constantly perturbed.

“I’ll get those for you right now.”

“That should have been like…a given, right?” he remarked. “What waitress doesn’t automatically bring water?”

With a sigh, you slid your tray under your arm, pressing your hand on your hip.

“If you want water…or anything for that matter…you can ask for it!” you barked. “I’m happy to bring it to you. But you don’t have to treat me like an imbecile!”

“Jeez,” one of the other guys muttered under his breath.

“What?” Harry glared at you, his eyebrows knitted together.

“You heard me, Birthday Boy! I’m just doing my job!”

As you started to turn away, you heard him mutter, “Doesn’t look like it,” followed by the rest of the group either giggling or shouting “Ooooh!”

You decided not to delight him with a response. Instead, you strutted to the bar where your darling pal John was already getting water glasses ready.

“Fuck me sideways, girl, that was rough!” he exclaimed.

“I’m done, John! I can’t deal with these assholes anymore!”

“Uh oh, looks like you may have to,” John averted his eyes to the glasses in front of him. Turning to see what he was talking about, you nearly ran into Mr. Personality.

“You owe me an apology,” he growled.

“Excuse me? I think it’s the other way around!” you yelled.

“I’m out with my friends for my birthday,” he explained, gesturing toward the table, “and I don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me.”

“The way I’m tr-” you turned beet red. “How dare you! You entitled, self-centered prick!”

“Easy, girl!” you heard John shout, but you paid no mind. You were ready to have it out with this guy.

“What did you call me?”

“Y/N!” someone else shouted. Looking up, you noticed your boss, a scowl on his face as the entire lounge had turned their focus on your encounter. “What seems to be the trouble here?”

“Are you the manager?” asked Harry.

“Yes, sir, how can I assist you?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” he began, “but your waitress here seems to have a problem with me. I’m here celebrating my birthday with my mates, and she’s gone out of her way to be rude to me all evening.”

“What?!?!” you shouted incredulously.

“Y/N, did you have a problem with this young man?”

“No, sir,” you shook your head, your arms crossed over your chest. “It’s the other way around. He’s been nothing but rude since-”

“She just called me a prick,” Harry interjected.

“Because you’re being one!” You glared at the asshole, shooting daggers at him. You felt like your insides were on fire as you held your hands in fists at your sides.

“Y/N, if you can’t control your temper, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” said your boss.

“I’m sorry, but he’s so rude, Mr-”

“Y/N,” your boss narrowed his eyes at you, before turning to Harry. “Sir, I do apologize for my employee. We do not condone this kind of behavior at our lounge.”

You watched Harry as his shoulders fell, a breath releasing from his nose. “I should hope not.”

“Now…” your boss added. “What can we do to rectify this situation? Perhaps we can put your tab on the house?”

Harry raised his brows, surprised at the offer. “That would…yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

Your boss nodded, patting Harry on the back. “No problem whatsoever. I hope you’ll come see us again.”

“Not if she’s here,” Harry scowled.

“I assure you, that won’t happen.”

With a gasp, you watched your boss turn around and face you. “Get your things, Y/N,” he said in the most relaxed voice possible, as though you weren’t just getting canned.

“Are you serious?” you cried.

“We don’t talk to our patrons this way,” he explained. “I won’t allow it. Now, put your apron away and clock out.”

Your jaw set, you tried your best not to cry. No, you wouldn’t allow yourself to. Not in front of him.

“Fine,” you said, untying your apron. You slapped it down hard on the bar, then turned for the back room, but not before noticing the sly, satisfied smirk on jerkhead’s face.

Only when you reached the back room did you let the tears fall. Cursing at yourself, at Harry, and your boss, and at the entire situation, you managed to grab your jacket and purse. You almost forgot to clock out, but you figured you might not get paid otherwise. Sitting on the dark green leather sofa, you waited until you thought Harry and his crew might be gone. Then wiping your eyes, you stood up, nearly bumping into John.

“Oh, Y/N, honey I’m so sorry!” he cried, wrapping you in a big hug.

“What the fuck, John? Why does he get to win?”

“I don’t know. The whole ‘the customer is always right’ thing, I guess.”

“That’s a load of bullshit,” you sobbed against his chest..

“Preaching to the choir, sister.”

“Is he gone yet?”

“Mr. Pretentious? Yeah, he left a few minutes ago. Want me to walk you out?”

With a nod, you let John walk you halfway through the lounge until you met up with your boss again who insisted he be the one to see you out. Just in case you were to cause a scene or some shit. As if you would. Not after that whole ordeal. You felt completely defeated…and deflated. You felt the eyes on you as you made it to the front door. Your boss held it open for you as you stepped into the balmy night air. With a sigh you walked to your car, turning once to give Zelda’s the middle finger.

Fuck that Harry guy. Fuck him to hell and back.

“Are you ready?” asked Shae.

With a sigh and a nod, you grabbed your keys. Last month you had promised your roommate that you’d go with her to get a tattoo. While you had been thrilled then about getting some new ink, after getting fired from Zelda’s, the excitement had worn off. In fact, you’d considered canceling all together, seeing as spending dough on a tat now seemed frivolous, and you could certainly use the money in case you couldn’t find another job soon. But in the end, you decided you owed yourself some kindness. And besides, Shae was chomping at the bit to get one, and she wouldn’t let you live until you went with her.

You drove to Fine Line Ink, just a few blocks from your apartment. You’d driven by it several times, but had never gone inside. Shae specifically requested this tattoo shop because apparently it was fairly well-known on social media. At least your roommate had done her research, even though she had no idea what tattoo she wanted to get.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” she’d insisted.

You heard 90s rock music playing when you opened the door, but saw no one standing near the counter, or even in the waiting area. The front room was dark, but with warm lighting, much like at Zelda’s. You could smell incense burning as you gazed around at the walls decorated in various designs. Wandering over to the glass counter, you inspected the display of body jewelry.

“Hi, how can I help you?” you heard a voice say.

Your body instantly felt cold as you stood up straight. You knew that voice. And it was one you’d hoped you would never have to hear again. Turning around, you caught a glimpse of his tall frame, his t-shirt stretched tight across his chest, his biceps peeking out from the sleeves.

Motherfucker.

“Hey,” beamed Shae. “We’re here to get tats.”

Shae gestured toward you, and your body went numb.

“Oh?” Harry raised a brow, then looked at you. The recognition and disdain both happened instantly. “Oh.”

Turning back to Shae, he asked, “Do you know what you want?”

“Not exactly,” she shrugged. “Nothing too big. But not too small either.”

Harry chuckled. “Alright. I have a book right here,” he pointed to one on the counter. “It’s got some ‘not too big, not too small’ ideas in there, if you wanna take a look.”

“Okay, thanks!”

“Take your time,” Harry grinned at her. “I’ll be back.”

He gave Shae a small wave, but you didn’t miss the way his expression changed when he glanced at you before he disappeared to the back.

“So what are you thinking of getting?” your friend asked as she perused the book. She stopped on a page of flowers, but scrunched up her nose. “Nah.”

“Um…let’s go somewhere else,” you told Shae, practically pulling her arm out of the socket.

“What? No! I wanna get a tattoo here!”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Why not? I heard this guy’s the best. Plus…he’s like hella hot!”

“No, he’s not,” you argued.

“Are you fucking blind?” scoffed Shae. Turning the page in the book, she stopped and pointed at a baby lion. “That’s it!”

“I just…” you stammered, “I just don’t think this is a good idea anymore. I changed my mind.”

“Did you find something you like?” Harry asked from the doorway.

“No-”

“Uh huh!” exclaimed Shae. “This baby lion is so cute. It’s so me. I want him right here on my hip.” She jutted out her hip, slapping her hand where she wanted the tattoo to go.

Harry chuckled again, making your insides churn. You wanted to vomit.

“Alright,” he said, handing her a clipboard. “If you’ll just fill this out for me, I’ll go prepare your stencil.”

You weren’t sure what to do. You’d already promised your friend, and she looked so excited. You knew there were dozens of other tattoo shops you could go to, but Shae had picked this one. Why did it have to be this guy’s shop? Of all the fucking…

Taking a deep breath, you lowered yourself slowly in a nearby chair as Shae filled out her paperwork. Signing her name, she turned to you with a smile.

“Isn’t it cute? I’m so excited!”

With a gulp, you were about to respond when Harry returned.

“Let’s go back here,” he gestured once he’d taken the clipboard from Shae.

“Wait, my friend’s getting one too,” she looked at you. “Aren’t you?”

“No.” Although the sound came from your mouth, you could have sworn Harry’s lips moved too.

“Um…” you cleared your throat. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Shae asked, confused.

Although you didn’t want to, you gazed at Harry. His frown was so apparent, it almost looked like his eyebrows were sewn together. Finally, he relaxed his expression, pretending for Shae’s benefit.

“Don’t reckon I have enough time, love. It’s only me here tonight.”

You had to hand it to him. That was a good answer.

“Oh,” Shae pouted. “But I wanted to get tats together.”

“It’s alright,” you assured her. “I need to save my money. And I doubt there’s anything here I’d want anyway.”

You had to hand it to yourself. That was a nice dig.

It wasn’t lost on Harry, either. He scowled at you before turning for the tattoo chair, Shae following behind.

“This your first tattoo?” you heard Harry ask as you remained in the doorway.

“Yes. So please be gentle,” your friend replied, obviously flirting.

You rolled your eyes as Harry chuckled. In any other situation, with any other man, not only would you have encouraged the flirting, you might have even joined in. Both John and Shae were right in saying he was good looking…or hella hot as it were. Even you had to admit that. But you hated to. And you also hated how his laugh rang through the shop, like an invisible tattoo of its own, lacing with the sound of the Foo Fighters song that played.

Crossing your arms, you leaned against the door frame, trying to think of a way to get out of the situation. You thought of faking an illness. You did feel like throwing up. But Shae wasn’t having it.

“Come sit over here, Y/N!”

“I’m fine here.”

“Noooo. Come over here in case I need to hold your hand. What if I pass out or something?”

“Do you pass out easily?” Harry asked as he pulled on his gloves.

“No,” Shae replied. “I’m actually not scared of needles. But you never know.”

You caught the grin on Harry’s face as he turned in his chair. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Y/N!” Shae whined. “Please!”

Rolling your eyes, you surrendered, walking slowly toward Harry’s tattoo station. You noted everything he had set out on the tray beside him. At least he seemed to know what he was doing. But you weren’t about to admit that. Grabbing a nearby chair, you took a seat on Shae’s other side, opposite from Harry.

“So, you want it on your left hip?” Harry confirmed.

“Yep.”

“Alright. So I’m gonna need you to pull down your pants just a bit, past your hip, and turn on your right side facing…um…your friend.”

“Yes, sir,” Shae smiled, happily willing to oblige.

You watched as she unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down as sensually as she could on the leather chair. You caught a glimmer in Harry’s eyes when he noticed she was wearing a thong.

“Seriously?” you scoffed.

“What?” he frowned, looking up at you.

“Do you have to ogle at her for fuck’s sake? She’s getting a tattoo, not stripping for you.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Believe me, joking is the last thing I’d be doing with you.”

Shae stared at you as she laid on her side. “Y/N, it’s okay! He can ogle at me all he wants!”

“Shae,” you narrowed your eyes.

“I think your friend can speak for herself,” remarked Harry.

Making a face, you sat back, crossing your arms and legs. His expression stoic, Harry pushed his chair closer to Shae, lightly swiping her skin with rubbing alcohol. Then he took a disposable razor to gently shave her hip.

“I promise I just shaved this morning,” giggled Shae.

“I’m sure you did,” Harry smirked. “It’s just procedure. We have to thoroughly prep the area before adding ink.”

Taking the stencil, he placed it on Shae’s hip, directly under her panty line.

“Is this where you want it?”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

“Good.” Harry ran his fingers slowly and smoothly across the thermal paper, and you just had to say something.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Blowing air between his lips, Harry glared up at you.

“Would you stop? I’m just doing my job.”

“Oh, really? Could have fooled me. Looks like you’re trying to feel her up.”

“Y/N, what the fuck?” cried Shae. “Do you have a problem with this guy?”

“Oh, you noticed?”

Shae sat up, looking at you quizzically. “Do you know him?” Then lowering her voice, she whispered, “Did y’all fuck?”

Hearing the question, Harry snorted.

“Yeah, you wish,” you scoffed, giving him the evil eye.

“In your dreams, babe.”

“That’s it, I’m outta here,” you sprinted out of your chair, heading for the door.

“Y/N!” Shae shouted. “What is going on?”

“I’m sorry, Shae, I tried to keep my cool. But I can’t even stand to be in the same room as him.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” muttered Harry.

“Ugh!” you cringed. “C’mon, Shae, pull your pants up. We’ll find someone more competent to do your tattoo.”

“I believe I’m more than competent,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m so lost here,” Shae whimpered, still in her chair. “How do you know each other?”

When you reached the doorway, you turned to face her, your arms still crossed.

“He’s the asshole who got me fired.”

“What?! Are you serious?!”

Adjusting herself in her chair, she faced Harry, waiting for him to retort. But he remained expressionless, his mouth in a straight line. Giving up on getting any response from him, you sighed and gestured for Shae again. When she slid off the chair, buttoning her pants, Harry finally spoke.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“What?” you glared at him.

“I…I didn’t mean to get you fired.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I mean it. I was…a complete prick to you…just like you said. And I’m sorry.”

“Pffftt,” you sounded. “It's a little late for that. I lost my job because of you!”

“I know, and I felt bad about it.”

“No, you didn’t!” you spat. “You were ecstatic that you’d gotten your way! You’re an asshole!”

“You’re right,” Harry nodded. “I deserve that. But I hope you know that wasn’t me.”

“Do you have an evil twin?”

“No. I was trying to impress my friends.”

“By being a jerk?” piped Shae.

“Yeah. I know it’s not a good look,” Harry shook his head. He rose from his chair, stepping closer to you. “I was seeing this chick, Nicolette…and she was…used to a certain lifestyle. It felt good to be part of her world for a while.”

“Doesn’t sound like friends to me,” you remarked.

“No. They just wanted to go to Zelda’s and get drunk. I swear, it’s not my scene.”

“You don’t say.”

“Look…” Harry sighed. “I’m not asking for forgiveness because I know you won’t give it to me. I have no real justification for the way I acted. I truly was a prick that night. But I regretted it later. I knew it was wrong of me, and I wanted to apologize but I didn’t even know your name, let alone where to find you. I broke it off with Nicolette, too.”

“Oh, jeez, that makes me feel soooo much better,” you said sarcastically.

Throwing his hands up, Harry turned around and began to gather things from the tray.

“You really have some nerve, you know that?” you added.

Harry spun around, “For what? For apologizing?”

“For everything! For acting like a big shot, especially when you obviously didn’t belong there. For yelling at me in front of the entire bar, including my boss, and for getting me fired. And for being rude to me as soon as I walked in here.”

“Hey, you were rude to me first!”

“I was not!”

“Hey, guys?” Shae interjected. “Maybe we should just drop it. You were right, Y/N. We shouldn’t have come here.”

“I swear, Shae, if I had known he worked here, we wouldn’t have. Let’s go.”

As soon as you pushed the door open, you heard Harry huffing. “Your loss, not mine.”

“Fuck you, dude!” you exclaimed. “And get a life. A real one, not someone else’s.”

FEEDBACK IS LOVE

[nonasuch]

The 2022 Miss Universe pageant was last night!

Which means: the National Costumes are here.

Yes, there is video. It’s worth watching if you want to see how some of these look in motion, but I’m warning you in advance that the emcees keep doing these shitty little rhyming couplets, and they will make you want to strangle them with one of the many available voluminous gown trains. So I’m suffering on your behalf, and liveblogging.

First up: Albania.

Sparkly flag-inspired bodysuit with train is the voting “present” of the Miss Universe National Costume Competition.

Angola. She did a fun dance on her way to center stage, which would probably not have been possible in her original costume, which was “tree-inspired” and too big to ship to New Orleans.

Argentina. This is where the video does come in handy, because without it I would not be able to award her First Contestant To Visibly Struggle Under The Weight Of Her Outfit. It’s a waterfall. The rainbow crotch area was certainly a design choice.

Armenia. I would like to see what’s going on with the bodice behind the... shield thing? but she never put it down.

Also, it turns out that when one contestant has a costume dedicated to solemn remembrance of the Armenian genocide, and the contestant immediately after her has a costume that’s about beach parties, there is kind of an uncomfortably abrupt tonal shift that happens onstage.

Aruba. Like I said: weird tonal shift! She did a little shimmy dance at Miss Armenia as they passed each other and it was clearly awkward for both of them. This is made of recycled materials leftover from Carnival, which is cool? I guess?

Australia. This is a prom dress. Boo.

Bahrain. A rare pants look! There’s a lot of detail in the headdress and bodice that’s kind of getting lost, but it looks cool in motion. Also the theme is apparently “Bahrain is rich as fuck,” so congrats I guess?

Belgium. Okay so the theme of this costume, my hand to g-d, is “the window on the International Space Station that Belgium built.” Why does this requires a shit-ton of leftover Christmas tinsel and some very awkward-to-wear angel wings? I do not know.

Belize. This is fun! It’s a good “lesser-known Batman villainess” kind of look. Like if Ivy and Catwoman co-mentored someone. The actual theme is “the world’s only jaguar reserve, which is in Belize,” but I think it’s also kind of implying that she might be a were-jaguar. Which, again, is fun!

Bhutan. This goes in the “just an actual regional/folk costume” category, which is also kind of like voting Present, but it looks like the fabrics are nice.

Bolivia. She has an entire Andean condor on her head so I’m already on board. This photo only shows the cloak, which is covered in silver spangles in honor of Bolivia’s silver mines, and is also why her condor is perched on a miner’s helmet. The dress underneath is entirely made of swags of sparkly gold beads, so the visual effect is actually pretty nice in motion.

Brazil. The construction details on this are actually quite lovely! Lots of intricate beading and rhinestone work. Unfortunately that doesn’t convey well at any distance, and also that white fin peplum thing flaps around really awkwardly when she walks. Oh, wait, she can flip it up to be a clamshell thing behind her head!

That looks much better.

British Virgin Islands. First giant flower of the year!

Bulgaria. Apparently this is made of neoprene? So with that and the rainbow stripes, the effect ends up being kind of “what if Midsommar, but at a rave.”

Cambodia. It feels weird to say “yep, standard Miss Universe warrior goddess costume” but basically that’s what this is. I do like the green-and-gold color palette, though.

Cameroon. “The baskets represent the nation’s agricultural movement.” Okay! I like how it’s giving “Valkyrie, but make it Global South,” though I’m not sure three entire country-shaped cutouts were necessary.

Canada. Another fine Miss Universe tradition: contestant who knows how to dance en pointe so she’s going to goddamn wear a costume that goes with pointe shoes, Or Else. Some nice beadwork! I would let her be the third, secret red swan in Swan Lake if that were a thing.

Cayman Islands. Sexy Blue Iguana is a fun concept! There’s a tail in back of the cape.

Chile. Sexy Atacama Desert is kind of abstract, as these things go, but I respect her choice to wear something she could walk in.

China. Hilariously, the announcer was like “This look... does not match the bio we were given, so I’m gonna wing it!” The fabrics are nice -- the satin drapes and moves well -- but the embellishments are kind of meh compared to some of the Miss China looks I’ve seen.

Colombia. This is a legit great Sexy Phoenix, but I need you all to know that her crown got turned a little sideways while she walked to the stage and she clearly knew it and just as clearly could do nothing about it, and I feel bad for laughing but it was funny.

Costa Rica. Sexy hummingbird! I think I’ve identified a recurring theme for this year. Corset and wings are made of recycled materials, which is nice, and they look well-made -- a lot of wing-based costumes tend to flop around or go crooked in motion, but not these.

Croatia. Oh, honey. This has big “my mom helped me make this the night before it was due” energy, unfortunately.

Curacao. “Meet the Fisherman’s Wife, a woman with a key role in Curacao’s fishing industry.” Okay? Honestly you could have left off the basket and said “this costume represents the beautiful marine life of Curacao” and I would have been like “yep, checks out” but now I have many follow-up questions.

Czech Republic. This is meant to be a Mucha-inspired look but uh. Mostly it’s just. beige. I’m starting to feel like all the other Slavic countries saw advance photos of Miss Ukraine and were like “let’s just phone it in this year, girls, there’s no point.”

Dominican Republic. “This costume recognizes the importance of birds in Dominican culture.” They did make it with silk feathers, which I appreciate, because it would have been very weird to use real ones with that mission statement. Also I like her headdress, and the giant feather fans are a good way to nod in the direction of wings without the hassle of actually wearing wings.

Ecuador. This looks good in motion! She did some dancing onstage that worked well, and there’s a great sculpted Inca head scowling on the back of her headdress. This is still only a few notches above voting Present, though.

El Salvador. “History of Currency,” which is definitely a concept! The Bitcoin wizard staff is sure something.

Equatorial Guinea. A perfectly nice entry in the “actual regional costume” category, but on the video I was like “oh, yikes, her headdress is really wobbly” and then it FELL OFF and I felt so bad for her.

Finland. “Spirit of the Forest”? Fuck off, that’s a prom dress. Boo.

I’m going to pause here so this readmore doesn’t get completely out of control. Shit, there are 50 more of these? Well, I have only myself to blame.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You watch through the window, frosted at the corners like a Hallmark Christmas card. You can’t deny that the snow is beautiful as it gleams beneath the streetlights but can it slow down? You feel yourself buried deeper with each spiraling flake.

It’s almost eight and there’s no sign of a stop coming. The plows passed an hour ago but barely made a dent in the thick blankets. You check your app, the buses are all delayed, some routes are even out of service.

“I got snow tires but not sure they can handle this,” Bucky comes up beside you, “car’s not heavy enough. Best case scenario, we get stuck not far from here. Worst…”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Sorry? I didn’t know you controlled the weather,” he scoffs.

“N-no, but I-I’m stuck here,” you blow out a long breath, “sorry to s-spoil your night.”

“Stuck?” He clucks, “never said that. It’s fine. Shit happens. You get to my age and it hardly even bothers you.”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“You calmed down,” he puts his hand on the window frame as he glances over at you.

You push your shoulders even higher. He’s not wrong. Your adrenaline fizzled out and now you’re just exhausted. Still, you can’t say you’re okay. Every shadow startles you as Mr. Rogers’ voice tickles the back of your mind. You’re back to watching over your shoulder.

“You’re not stuttering as bad,” he sniffs, “that’s all…”

“Sometimes it’s n-not as bad,” you agree, “s-still there though.”

“Getting cold in here,” he pulls his grip from the window frame and hugs himself, “how’re you doing? I got some extra slippers. A sweater?”

“Good,” you wave him off, “n-not that bad.”

He doesn’t say anything. You feel him watching you. He exhales through his nostrils and steps back on his heel.

“You’re damn stubborn,” he mutters.

“I–” you stop yourself. Arguing would just prove his point. And you are stubborn.

If only he knew how long you’ve stayed in a bad situation, thinking you could outpace it, that you could overcome it. Again and again. You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.

“So are y-you,” you say.

His response is unexpected. He laughs. He backs up, leaving you to watch the incessant snowfall.

“Yeah, I am,” he confesses.

You don’t answer. No comment is better than any that pops into your head. You continue to stare out hopelessly.

“You should let your parents know you won’t be home,” he suggests as pages flutter.

“I’m an a-adult,” you spin and lean on the window ledge, “they…”

…won’t care. You don’t say that out loud either.

“Never said you weren’t. Only figured,” he clicks on the tiny book light again.

“Uh, th-thanks,” you shuffle to the couch, well away from him and sit. You pull your phone, ignoring how the temperature nips at your fingers. You texted your mom an hour ago. She left you on read. Not even a thumbs up. “This should c-clear up s-soon.”

He snorts and looks over his book, “you really believe that?”

You meet his gaze and shake your head. He smirks and closes his book. He puts it on the armrest and stands.

“Come on, let me get you settled in,” he turns his palms out.

“Wh-what?”

“Sure, got a guest room upstairs. No point in you taking the couch. It’s stiff,” he explains, “I should have enough wood in the garage to get the fireplace going. Never really bother with it, too much work.”

“Uh, oh, o-okay,” you stand, “th-thanks.”

“You know, I am a nice guy. Or can be,” he leads you through the doorway. “If you’d just moved over a tiny bit–”

“W-what? I… the b-bookstore? You c-could’ve asked. You d-didn’t say e-excuse me,” you counter.

He grips the railing as he starts up the staircase ahead of you. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right. I forgot my manners. Thank you, Miss Etiquette.”

“N-no, th-thank you,” you return tritely, “finally, y-you apologised.”

“Me?” He exclaims as he climbs, peeking over his shoulder, “you called me an old man.”

“I d-did.”

He’s quiet as he continues to the top. He stops on the landing and turns back to you. You step up level to him, well, not quite.

“Hm,” his lips thin, “I guess you weren’t wrong.”

“I w-wasn’t,” you proclaim proudly.

“Watch yourself,” he warns with a wag of his finger.

“S-sorry, I wouldn’t w-want to raise y-your b-blood pressure,” you tease.

He hesitates, almost flinching.

“Are you calling me old again?” He tilts his head.

You smile and shrug. His eyes narrow and his brow drops. He waves you off and turns on his heel.

“Right, your room is this way.” He directs you down the short hallway and taps a closed door, “I’ll grab you an extra blanket and something to sleep in.”

“You g-go to bed th-this early?”

He glowers as he faces you again, “no.”

“S-sorry, I-I’ll stop,” you put your hands up, “I ap-ap-appreciate it.”

“So,” he turns the knob without look and nudges the door open, “I’ll just go get that fire goaded and then we can figure out dinner. You hungry? I’m starving.”

“Er, yeah,” you say sheepishly, “but I… you d-don't need t-to.”

“Come on, don't,” he dismisses your protest, “you can pay me back.”

“Ah, I g-guess.”

“Stay for the recording,” he insists, “please. Let's get through episode one before you tuck tail.”

“T-tuck tail?” You blink.

“Not to say… I only,” he stops himself, “I'm asking nicely. I'm not used to begging, you know?”

You press your lips tight and look away, “I'll th-think about it.”

“Right, well you got a whole night to think,” he says, “so, uh, yeah, the fire.”

He spins and before you can react, he's halfway to the stairs. You watch him go as you blindly reach for the door, letting your hand rest on the wood lightly as he disappears below.

Mercurial, that's the word for it. You always wanted to fit that in somewhere. It's almost poetic but in the flesh, it's entirely confounding.

[locallixie]

Nip piercing, pleeease?

nipple piercings ; boyfriend!stray kids' reactions

🖇—...boyfriend!stray kids' reactions to their s/o having nipple piercings.

✧.* 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ; mature, boyfriend!stray kids, established relationship, gn!reader.

✧.* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; minor language, general sexual themes, nipple-play.

bang chan—...

You didn’t tell him beforehand about getting your nipples done. And if you did, boy would he give you an earful.

When he saw them in person however, he was stunned—in a good way of course. He would have talked you out of getting such a risky piercing, but damn did it turned out looking hot as hell.

“Um…They— They looked nice.” He smiled shyly, hiding his reddened face with your shirt. It made him a little excited, if he’s completely honest. The metal shining under the bedroom light, bringing the focal point to your nipples.

"Did it hurt?" He questioned, gazing at the silver metal on your perked nipples.

You smirked, "Like hell, the girl who was doing it had to play around with them so she could get the angle right." Getting this piercing done was an interesting experience to say the least, it would be so much more fun if he was there with you. Maybe they might have him getting you up since he's your boyfriend.

The coldness gliding upon his lips as he kissed your chest, other hand toying with the metal on your nipple. Weirdly, this mix of temperature enhanced your sexual desires. Shit, you might be into temperature play?!

lee know—...

To be completely honest? He finds it pretty hot if you asked him. Though, he wouldn’t recommend you getting this piercing but he have to admit that you pulled it off well.

The fact that you didn’t reveal a word about having your nipples pierced, saving it until it was one of your more ‘intimate’ nights made it such a great surprise. He was making out with you like how he would usually eased you into the main course, slowly getting rid of your clothing. That was when his eyes met with two shiny metal on your nipples as he finally took off your shirt.

“Oh, this is new?” He was a little taken back by your bold move, teasingly yet curiously examining them in with his fingers.

You smiled, “Do you like them?”

Minho leaned down, laying his lips on your torso as he slowly moved down to your hard nipples. “You look pretty with them, baby.” Speaking while his hands began to knead them, drawing lewd sounds from your mouth.

changbin—...

At first, he didn't quite know how to react. He likes you, but doesn't really like that piercing in particular. And now you both came into one, it's just a bit much to handle!

However, after a while, he began to like it more. Every-time seeing it peeps out from under your shirt, he can't help but get a hard-on. You look so god-damn sexy with them on every-time he gets to see them in its entirety.

"I think you're starting to like them a little too much." You averted your gaze, trying not to make any loud noises. He kept touching your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt, kneading them gently between his fingers.

He grinned sweetly, "I don't know, they're just kinda fun to play with, especially when I get to tease you like this~" That's fair, you like gropping his buff chest so guessed this is payback.

hyunjin—...

That's quite...a reckless move for you. Sure, he support and everything but damn. He didn't think you would go this crazy, though, he isn't saying that he's any better. With the image he is going for himself, you two look more like a couple than you ever did.

"You're kinda bold for getting your nipples pierced." Hyunjin commented.

"Yeah, said the bitch who dyed his hair an obnoxious red." Immediately at each other's throats. Oddly enough, I think he would get it on himself if he wanted to.

han—...

You didn't tell him, he had to figure out for himself. While cuddling with each other on the couch during one of your movie nights, he got distracted midway through the movie when he kept staring at the thing poking from under your shirt. What is that? Did you recently developed a skin condition of some sort? He's a little concerned.

The thought doesn't leave his mind all throughout the next twenty minutes of the movie playing on the T.V screen. Finally, it got unbearable, he just have to know what that is! You felt shivers running down your spin, his thumbs was brushing against your nipples through your shirt.

"Jisung...? What are you doing?" You asked, even if he couldn't see your red blushing face, he could still tell from the bashful expression you have on your face.

Pulling his hands away in a panicked manner, "Sorry! It's just...there's something under your shirt."

In a very casual, as if it was not big news. "Oh that? I got my nipples pierced." Jisung was immediately taken back, wide eyes staring in a confused amazement.

"You need a better look?" You teased, gently grabbing his hands.

felix—...

He knew beforehand since you had personally asked him to come acompany you. Out of confusion and pure admiration, he went along. Felix might try to talk you out of it, even though he is all for 'your body, your choice.'

"Are you sure you want this? Do you need to hold my hand?" Bombarding you with questions regarding his concerns, while you were taking off your shirt as calm as ever.

He needed to hold your hand, he needed support more than you it seems. It was a quick process, two stabs and done. Though he was asked by the piercer to play around with your nipples to get it up, which he was embarrassed to do in front of an audience.

"You look nice!" He beamed like always, maybe it was because your were his lover so he is clearly biased, but he genuinely thought they were not too bad.

seungmin—...

“Like on your nipples?” Seungmin did understand what you say, he was just the very bit dumbfounded as he tried to digest the information you had sprung onto him. Should he stop you before you make a reckless decision? Or let you do whatever you please since it is your life anyways, and he isn’t paid enough to care too much?

You said nothing, simply lifting your shirt up for him to see. “Oh.” A word passed his lips, gazing intently at the shining metals that adorned your nipples.

Gradually, as you could see the tint of red surfacing on his cheeks till his ears. He had nothing to say, his mind had nothing to say. God, this was out of nowhere.

i.n—...

Put it away! Put the nipples away! When he said he wanted confirmation, your words are enough, there’s no need for showing him without a warning like that! Hiding his face behind his hands, he turned around with wanting to be respectful.

“Do you like them?” You smiled innocently, holding your shirt lifted. He looks so cute when he is embarrassed, you would like to tease him a bit more!

His whole face was entirely red, “If I say I do, will you put down your shirt?”

“Yes, compliment me now!” Replied to him, you toyed around with the metal piercings on your sensitive nipples in attempt to entice him.

The more he tried to hide himself, the redder he became. “They’re nice! They’re really nice!” He gave you a quick response, which of course didn’t satisfy you.

“You’re not even looking at them!”

[kckt88]

Breath Of Doubt.

Summary:

Cerelle Lannister arrives at the Red Keep and immediately sets her sights on Aemond, determined to have him at all costs.

Vaeryna of course is having none of it and unleashes her inner dragon, determined to protect her treasure.

Warning(s): Language, Pranks, Violence, Threats, Kissing, Incest, Voyeurism, Smut - Lactation Kink, Daddy Kink, P in V Sex.

Word Count: - 4242

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

One Shot Take My Breath Away - Takes place six months after the birth of Aegar.

AEMOND X O.C

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @snh96, @immyowndefender,

“Gods this is boring” moaned Jaehaeryn.

“Boy, that’s enough” snapped Aemond as the golden horse drawn carriage came to a stop inside the yard.

“Sorry father” muttered Jaehaeryn, subtly moving closer to his mother.

“What’s she even coming here for anyway?” asked Rhaegar.

“Beats the shit out of me” said Vharla shrugging.

“Language” scolded Vaeryna.

“Oops” squeaked Vharla.

“He’s got a point you know-why is Cerelle Lannister coming here?” asked Aegon the Younger.

“Scouting for a husband” mused Jaehaera.

“Good luck, half of the single lords that frequent the Red Keep are wrinkly old cunts”.

“Daenerys” snapped Aemond.

“Apologise father” replied Daenerys her cheeks tinged pink.

“Oh, you have no idea how much this amuses me” breathed Aegon.

“Glad it amuses someone” snarked Aemond.

“Uncle Aegon is single, and he isn’t a wrinkly old cunt” exclaimed Saeryna.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you” said Aegon.

“Shouldn’t have favourites” mused Aerys.

“I don’t have favourites-but if I did it would absolutely be Saeryna” laughed Aegon.

“You are the King-stop acting like a buffoon” snapped Aemond.

“Oh, Aemond remove the stick from your arse and lighten up” replied Aegon.

“Uncle is brave-I’ve seen lesser men almost piss themselves in fear from the look that father is giving him right now” mused Rhaegar.

“All of you quieten down-“ urged Vaeryna,

As the door of the carriage opened, Aerys let out a little gasp as Cerelle emerged from the carriage, her jewelled hand extended to the attending squire.

Indeed, she was rather beautiful, her golden hair shining in the sun, her elegant slim figure swathed in rich red and gold fabric. Her blue eyes sparkling like the rarest of gems from Tarth.

“Lady Lannister welcome to Kings Landing, I hope your journey from Casterly Rock wasn’t too perilous” said Aegon politely as he held out his hand in greeting.

However, she bypassed greeting Aegon and made a beeline for Aemond.

“Rude” scoffed Vaeryna.

“Pleasure to meet you Prince Aemond, I’m Cerelle Lannister”.

“Errr, pleasure to meet you my lady” replied Aemond.

Cerelle Lannister's gaze swept across the crowded hall, where the flickering candlelight danced on polished armour and richly adorned gowns of other ladies in attendance.

The air buzzed with the murmurs of the guest courtiers as they revelled in the grandeur of the occasion, a feast held in celebration of some anniversary of the King.

Yet, amid the sea of faces, her eyes found him - Aemond, the enigmatic figure with flowing silver hair that cascaded down his shoulders like liquid moonlight.

Aemond moved with a graceful confidence, his every step commanding attention.

The scar over his face only heightened the allure, a testament to his bravery and resilience against the bastard strong boy who carved out his eye when they were children.

Cerelle's heart quickened as she took in the sharp features that radiated the ethereal beauty of old Valyria.

His presence was magnetic, drawing her towards him like a moth to flame.

Leather-clad and lithe, Aemond moved with the fluidity of a predator, his every movement deliberate and purposeful.

Cerelle couldn't help but be captivated by the way his attire accentuated the contours of his body, a display of strength and agility that hinted at a warrior's prowess.

Her breath caught as she observed the subtle play of muscles beneath the supple leather.

Cerelle's pulse quickened when she saw Aemond lean over and place a gentle kiss on the cheek of his wife.

Cerelle in her youth had heard of Vaeryna, the silver haired dragon who had sold herself to her enemies and married the man responsible for the deaths of her brother and father.

It often intrigued her, what sort of woman would do that, but then her reasons were made clear when it was revealed that her brother Aegon the Younger was still alive, despite the entirety of the realm believing he perished alongside his brothers in the gullet.

Cerelle actually admired Vaeryna for that, it showed her strength and determination, a true reflection of house Targaryen.

But upon seeing Aemond, Cerelle completely understood the unspoken reasons for Vaeryna’s motivations. She really couldn’t blame her for spreading her legs and birthing the prince’s many children.

His silver haired babes were a testament to Aemond’s virility and fertile seed and Cerelle couldn’t help but feel flustered at the thought of Aemond stuffing her with his cock and breeding her.

His wife should have been a deterrent, a signal to retreat from the allure of forbidden desire. However, Cerelle's determination burned brighter than ever.

Vaeryna, was a mere obstacle in Cerelle's pursuit. Their union did little to extinguish the flames of longing that now roared within her.

Cerelle's ambitions knew no bounds, and the thought of a marital bond meant nothing in the face of the irresistible connection she felt with Aemond.

Undeterred by the constraints of societal norms or the sanctity of marriage, Cerelle set her sights on Aemond with unwavering resolve.

The glint of determination in her eyes mirrored the gleam of silver that adorned Aemond's hair and no matter how much she admired Vaeryna her existence quickly became inconsequential in the grand tapestry of Cerelle's desires.

She planned to move through the courtly intrigues with a grace that masked her audacious intentions. Cerelle knew the art of subtlety, weaving a web of subtle glances and discreet encounters, all aimed at ensnaring Aemond's attention by any means necessary.

Cerelle Lannister observed silently as Aemond engaged in rigorous sword training session in the castle yard.

The sunbathed the training grounds in a warm glow, accentuating Aemond's silver hair and his lithe and powerful frame moving with a grace that only a seasoned warrior possessed, each motion deliberate and precise.

As Aemond practiced his swordplay with the oldest of his sons, beads of sweat formed on his brow, glistening like diamonds against his pale skin.

Cerelle's blue eyes followed the sinuous lines of his movements, appreciating the fluidity of his actions. The intensity of the training session accentuated the contours of his muscular physique, captivating Cerelle's attention with each powerful swing and deft manoeuvre.

Cerelle found herself entranced by the sight of Aemond's dedication to his craft.

 His focus was unwavering, and the sheen of sweat highlighted the exertion he poured into every strike.

Aemond's dedication to his training only heightened his allure in Cerelle's eyes, and an admiring smile played on her lips as she absorbed the captivating display.

The distant clang of swords echoed through the yard as Aemond sparred with his son. Cerelle couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly dominated the practice, his movements a dance of skill and strength. A subtle sense of longing crept into Cerelle's gaze, and she marvelled at the allure of the warrior before her.

Aemond's silver hair caught the sunlight, creating a mesmerizing halo around him as he continued to hone his swordsmanship.

Cerelle, hidden in the shadows, allowed herself a moment to appreciate the beauty of the scene.

The contrast between the fierce determination etched on Aemond's face and the grace with which he moved stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within Cerelle.

As the training session progressed, Cerelle remained captivated by Aemond's every motion, savouring the sight of his athleticism, strength, and the sheen of sweat that clung to his form.

A subtle smile played on her lips, aware that the next time they spoke, the image of Aemond in the midst of his training would linger in her thoughts, fuelling a newfound admiration and perhaps sparking something more.

Vaeryna felt the subtle tension in the air whenever Cerelle Lannister was near.

The sly glances, the lingering touches, and the carefully chosen words—all seemed orchestrated to seduce her husband, Aemond.

Vaeryna was not blind to the game being played, and it fuelled a storm of emotions within her.

In the quiet moments of the night, Vaeryna found herself reflecting on the delicate balance of power within the social web of the court.

Ever ravenous for the whispers of scandal and salacious behaviours they could use for their own amusement.

Cerelle’s visit to the Red Keep was only meant to last a few weeks, but the visit had been extended in the hopes that Cerelle would be successful in finding herself a husband.

Technically she had been successful and had indeed found herself enamoured with a man who was no doubt the fantasy of most women that caught a glimpse of him, but he was married, and his wife was no slouch.

She was not only a dragon, but the daughter of Daemon Targaryen, whom she embodied not only in mind but in soul and every time she saw Cerelle giggling at Aemond or batting her eyelashes at him, she found her fingers itching to swipe the dagger from Aegon’s belt and skewer the nasty little tart with the pointy end.

However, Vaeryna tried very hard to restrain herself and maintained a calm and dignified facade but beneath the elegant exterior, Vaeryna harboured a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, jealousy, and a determination to shield what was rightfully hers.

Her children however were another story.

Saeryna had spent hours searching for spiders in the gardens only to release them in Cerelle’s chambers, her screams of terror echoing around the Red Keep as Saeryna smiled innocently.

Aerys worked in tandem with Jaehaeryn to swap Cerelle’s fancy bathing oils with stinky pond water and Caelee even helped herself to Cerelle’s pretty powders and used them to paint pictures for her Kepa (Father).

Vharla unstitched the seams of Cerelle's dresses which resulted in a rather embarrassing incident in the gardens with Cerelle being left red faced after her dress all but fell apart leaving her in nothing but her underclothes.

As it turned out Aegon was behind the entire thing, as he was advising the children on what to do and he took great pleasure in the chaos they were causing.

He had taken an instant dislike to Cerelle and was determined to see her suffer for her rudeness and blatently obvious disregard for Vaeryna who Aegon was absolutly NOT in love with.

Vaeryna of course pretended to be scandalised when Saeryna was caught putting worms in Cerelle’s hair, but it was rather endearing that her children had made some unspoken agreement with their uncle Aegon and united against Cerelle, determined to punish her for what she was doing, and it was amusing to see their sweet little faces a picture of pure innocence as they were scolded by Alicent for their behaviour.

The one thing Vaeryna was sure of was Aemond, her husband, was a man of unwavering loyalty and moral integrity.

She knew him well enough to trust in the strength of their bond, convinced that no external charms or temptations could sway him from their shared commitment.

Despite this confidence, the mere fact that Cerelle Lannister sought to weave her subtle web around Aemond was an insult that stung.

The insults were not in the fear of Aemond succumbing to Cerelle's charms, but rather in the audacity of the attempt itself.

It was a slight to their marriage, a challenge to the sanctity of their love, and an affront to the trust they had painstakingly built over the years.

Vaeryna found herself grappling with a mix of emotions—anger at Cerelle's audacious advances, frustration at the need to defend what should be unassailable, and a deep-seated hurt that someone would dare to undermine the sacred connection she shared with Aemond.

Ultimately her thirst for retribution eventually prevailed and she made a vow to herself that when the opportunity presented itself, she would deal with that horse haired slattern if it was the thing she ever did.

The Red Keep was ablaze with light and merriment as the realm gathered to celebrate King Aegon's name day. Banners of House Targaryen fluttered in the breeze, their green and gold scales catching the glow of countless torches that lined the courtyards and corridors.

The air was filled with the fragrant aroma of roasting meats, and the joyful sounds of laughter and music echoed through the throne room.

The throne room was adorned with elaborate tapestries depicting the storied history of House Targaryen. Long tables stretched across the room, groaning under the weight of lavish feasts prepared for the occasion. Golden chalices and plates adorned with dragon motifs sparkled under the soft candlelight, casting a warm and inviting glow.

Nobles from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms mingled with knights, lords, and ladies, all clad in their finest attire. The clinking of goblets and the melodic tunes of harps and lutes filled the air, creating an atmosphere of revelry befitting the celebration. Courtiers in richly coloured gowns and doublets danced gracefully to the music, adding a touch of elegance to the festivities.

In the centre of it all stood King Aegon, resplendent in regal attire befitting his station. His silver hair gleamed in the light, and the crown of the conqueror sat proudly atop his head.

Aegon received well-wishers and gifts with a gracious smile, acknowledging the love and loyalty of his subjects.

The people of the realm still buzzing from the spectacle of the jousting tournament that been held earlier in the day in honour of the king's name day, where knights in gleaming armour clashed with lances under the watchful eyes of the cheering crowd.

Of course, Aemond who claimed he didn’t give a shit about tourneys, entered and won.

Relishing in the cheers for his victory as he crowned his wife Vaeryna the queen of love and beauty. Her sweet smile as he placed the wreath of flowers upon her silver head and her gasp of surprise as he hauled her over the wooden fence and kissed her deeply in front of the realm was endearing for all too see.

Except for Cerelle of course who was seething with envy. Her attempts to tempt Aemond were proving fruitless, and his children with his silver haired bitch of a wife were monsters who needed hard lessons in discipline and the King was no better aiding those little shits in their pranks was truly poor form.

No, she needed to increase her efforts in tempting Aemond, she wanted him and by the gods she was determined to have him, so she donned her most daring dress and joined in the celebrations for the King’s name day.

“Are you really that dense brother-“ snarked Aegon as he took a large sip of wine.

“What are you bleating about now?” snapped Aemond.

“Cerelle Lannister-the lingering looks, the not so subtle touching of your arm when she's talking to you. Brother-your wife is seconds away from kicking the shit out of her and whilst I will shamelessly enjoy such a spectacle, I doubt her morbid cunt of a father would, so you might want to put a stop to whatever fascination Cerelle has with you before blood spills” replied Aegon.

“There is no-“

“You only lost one eye, surely you’re not that blind, the girl is desperate for your cock-“ muttered Aegon.

“Well, she can remain desperate-"

“Listen to your big brother-you’ve only bedded what two women?” said Aegon.

“Three actually”.

“Three? Who was-oh yeah Alys that old whore from Harrenhal, I forgot about her” said Aegon.

“Hm”

“Well, that’s beside the point-I’m more well versed in the ways of women than you are, and I can tell you now that there are some women who don’t take no for an answer and when they set their sights on something they will do whatever it takes to get it” replied Aegon.

“Are you saying that I’m in capable of defending myself against unwanted attention?” asked Aemond, feeling a little insulted over his brothers insinuation.

“In a word-yes I am. That Lannister bitch has had you in her sights since she first arrived here and whilst you remain blissfully unaware-your wife does not”.

“What has Vaeryna said?” questioned Aemond.

“It’s not what she’s said brother, it’s what she hasn’t. No woman ever wants to see another woman pawing at their husband” exclaimed Aegon.

“Do you think Vaeryna will do something?” mused Aemond as he looked over at his wife who was indeed glaring at Cerelle.

“You do know who your wife is right? Whilst Ryna might be a woman, she’s as fierce as any dragon that ever existed, and a dragon will protect what they consider to be theirs-if Cerelle continues playing with fire she’s going to get burned” warned Aegon.

"Oh, for the love of seven" uttered Aemond as he spotted Cerelle walking towards him.

“This isn’t going to end well” urged Aegon grimacing.

“Aemy-I had thought you would ask me to dance” giggled Cerelle.

“I’m not much of a dancer my lady” muttered Aemond.

“That’s not true-he dances often with Vaeryna-you know his wife” said Aegon through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Your Grace, a man may dance with others if he so wishes” said Cerelle her voice mockingly sweet, the underlaying meaning of her comment lingered in the air.

“Not this man” whispered Aemond as he tried to move away from Cerelle.

"Oh, just one dance my Prince" exclaimed Cerelle reaching for Aemond's hand.

"My lady I really must protest-" retorted Aemond moving his hand away from Cerelle's grasp.

"Just one dance-surely you won't begrudge a lady-"

"Oh shit-" muttered Aemond.

“-I bid you farewell Lady Lannister-it was nice knowing you” exclaimed Aegon raising his goblet in a mock toast as Vaeryna came up behind Cerelle and seized her by the hair, dragging her away from Aemond who couldn’t help the surge of arousal that shot through him at his wife’s possessive display.

The fierce determination in her amethyst eyes as she spun Cerelle around and slapped her hard across the face.

Her face twisted with fury as she stood over the shaking form of Cerelle.

“You even dare to approach my husband again and I’ll knock your teeth out-I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear-I’ll rip your fucking face off-AEMOND PUT ME DOWN“ screamed Vaeryna.

“Take it easy there Issa nēdenka zaldrīzes” Aemond as he wrapped his arms around Vaeryna and hauled her away from Cerelle (My fierce dragon).

"No-she laid hands on you; I won't have it-she dares to think that she can take what is MINE" snarled Vaeryna as she struggled against Aemond's grip.

"Nothing to see here-" urged Aegon waving his hands in the air, as he tried to stifle his laughter.

Aemond dragged a furious Vaeryna from the throne room and hauled her against the wall, his arms pinning her body against the cold stone wall.

"Calm down-" urged Aemond.

"Don't tell me to calm down-she's been pawing at you for weeks and I can't stand it any-"

Vaeryna gasped as Aemond surged forward and pressed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss.

“Do you trust me ābrazȳrys” asked Aemond (Wife).

“You know I do” replied Vaeryna breathlessly.

“In that case I may have an idea to stop Cerelle’s pursuit of me-so would you do me the honour of meeting me in the library in half an hour” said Aemond.

“Ok” muttered Vaeryna feeling a little uncertain.

“Don’t worry Issa gevie perzys. Just make sure to wear something less constricting” replied Aemond as he turned on his heel and walked away (My beautiful fire).

Cerelle stared down at the hastily scribbled note and smiled. Aemond had asked to see her, mayhaps he was going to apologise for his clearly deranged wife’s violent behaviour, or he had finally realised their connection and was ready to give in and reciprocate her affections.

Admittedly the library was an odd place to meet, but it didn’t matter.

The moment she had been waiting for was finally upon her and Cerelle was determined to enjoy every single second of it.

As she approached the ornate double wooden doors, Cerelle took a deep breath to steady her nerves before a guard wordlessly opened the doors for her.

The library was almost shrouded in complete darkness save for the few lit candles, giving it an almost eerie yet romantic glow.

“Aemond” called Cerelle.

But no answer came and after a few minutes, Cerelle’s attention was drawn to what sounded like a breathy moan coming from between the bookcases.

As she moved through the labyrinth of tall bookcases, the sounds of moaning grew louder.

Cerelle stood stunned as she spotted Aemond, half naked with his breeches sitting low on his hips, his head pressed into his wife’s neck as he pounded into her.

“N-Nothing and no one compares to you” growled Aemond bracing his hand on the bookshelf as he brutally snapped his against Vaeryna’s.

He was so deep inside her that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

“Aemond” gasped Vaeryna her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it ābrazȳrys, take every fucking inch of me-let me fill your sweet cunt” (Wife).

“Oh, please Valzȳrys. I want it. I want all of you” moaned Vaeryna (Husband).

“FUCK” roared Aemond as he hauled Vaeryna away from the bookcase and placed her the edge of a desk.

“Yes-Yes Aemond, Oh gods” breathed Vaeryna.

“I fucking love you-I love you so much” growled Aemond his eye finding its way to Cerelle who shivered as he smirked at her, the sapphire nestled in his eye socket glinting in the candlelight.

Aemond continued to stare at Cerelle as he mercilessly fucked his wife, filling her over and over again with sharp penetrating thrusts.

The muscles of his chest and abdomen flexing as he moved with a brutality that Cerelle had never seen before.

“Aemond-yes, right there. Don’t stop-don’t stop” cried Vaeryna the tears running down her pale cheeks.

“That’s it Issa jorrāelagon. Come on daddy’s cock” rasped Aemond (My love).

Cerelle couldn’t help the flare of arousal that shot between her thighs when Aemond lurched forward and wrapped his lips around one of his wife’s erect nipples.

Suckling greedily and he reached down and began expertly circling her pearl with his long fingers.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaeryna her entire body seizing before going slack and pliant.

“FUCK-I’m going to come-“ groaned Aemond.

“I want it-fill me with your seed Issa dārys” gasped Vaeryna (My King).

“FUUUUUCK” roared Aemond, his head thrown back as his rope after rope of his seed spilled inside his wife’s cunny.

“Aemond” breathed Vaeryna as her husband collapsed on top of her.

“I love you so much-“ replied Aemond.

“-And I love you” whispered Vaeryna.

“I never want you to doubt my love, no one will ever compare to you-my soul mate”.

“Issa idañnykeā perzys” muttered Vaeryna (My twin flame).

“I see that our observer has fled” said Aemond staring at the vacant space that Cerelle had occupied mere moments ago.

“Husband” breathed Vaeryna as she slid her hands into his long silver hair and pulled his face towards hers.

“Wife” replied Aemond as he pressed a kiss to her soft lips.

Vaeryna gasped as felt her husbands cock hardening inside her.

“I think I need to have you again” moaned Aemond as he withdrew his cock from his wife’s cunny until only his tip remained and then thrust forward again.

“You may have me as many times as you desire my love” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“Hm-” sighed Aemond his tongue licking at the seam of Vaeryna’s lips.

His plan had worked perfectly, Cerelle wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She had seen for herself the passion and love that Aemond and Vaeryna had for one another, what a silly lion she was to even think that she could come between two dragons.

As they watched the golden carriage depart the Red Keep, Vaeryna couldn’t help but notice the sly smiles plastered across Aegon and Saeryna’s faces.

“-And what are you two so happy about?” asked Vaeryna.

“We may or may not have left a little going away present in the carriage for the Lady Lannister” said Aegon shrugging.

“Dare I ask-“ mused Vaeryna as a loud shriek echoed across the courtyard.

“I guess she found the slugs” laughed Aegon.

“Or the maggots” replied Saeryna.

“I thought we agreed on slugs-where did you get the maggots from?” asked Aegon as he lifted Saeryna into his arms.

“Found them in the Maester’s room and then I put some in a jug and poured them in a cushion in the carriage” replied Saeryna.

“A-A cushion” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“Don’t worry mama. I left the zippy part open” shrugged Saeryna.

“Gods I love this kid” laughed Aegon.

“I thought I was being nice leaving her presents, not my fault she doesn’t like them”.

“Spoilt bitch” muttered Aegon as Saeryna nodded quickly.

“I’m not going to get into trouble am I mama?”

“No, my sweet you’re not. In fact, I must insist that you receive a reward, how about a new doll or a new dress. Perhaps both?” said Vaeryna smiling.

Saeryna giggled sweetly and pressed her face into Aegon’s neck.

“You know I pity the fool who dares try to court this little one when she’s of age” said Aegon.

“You and me both”

“Is everything ok?” asked Aemond curiously.

“Everything is perfect my love” replied Vaeryna as she took her husband’s hand and headed back inside the Red Keep.

As Vaeryna gave one last fleeting towards the golden carriage moving rapidly away from the Red Keep, she couldn’t help but wonder if Cerelle would ever dare show her face again.

Probably not if her children had anything to with it. What treasures they were.

All eight of them, mayhaps even nine as the moontea Vaeryna had requested that morning had remained untouched in her chambers.

[fairykazu]

20191009 i like her ft. kazuha ⊹ ࣪ ˖

cws: feminine terms are used but reader is referred as gn terms, highschool au, mutual pining, fluff, angst, parental issues, implied chiscara, mild profanity

masterlist

it’s around eleven-something and lunch has started, you and kazuha were laying on a blanket near the rooftops of school. kazuha brought up when a fight broke out between childe and scaramouche, something about childe being too close to scaramouche’s personal space. the wind was blowing gently as you laughed, perching on one of your hands, “kazuha, they have to be into each other.”

kazuha noticed as you laughed, you shivered. he leaned a little closer, zipping you up, “you’re right, star.”

star was a nickname that kazuha gave to you in freshman year when you were rightfully upset about your mother telling that with your grades, you would never grow up to be successful as she is and only to become a random man’s housewife earning nothing other than chores that would pile up.

flashback

after the talk with your mother, you told her you’ll be studying at your friend’s house and she let out a sigh of relief, “thank god, you’re getting your shit together.”

you tried not to react to the words you have heard before squeezing your lips into a fine line, “good bye, mother.” leaving out of the door just before hearing your mother’s goodbyes, the weight of your anxiety pooling in your stomach never left but it gradually lightened, texted kazuha.

kazuha, omw !!

kazuha answers just as fast, huh?

wait is it because of “😡💀☹️”?

yes :’(

okay, ill see you there

what? you thought as you hesrd loud panting and footsteps coming your way. his silver hair sticking to his forehead, “oh! name, there you are. lets go to my house.” he was hunched over kind of like a pretzel, breaking in a sweat.

“kazuha???” you said, confused. your eyebrows knitted together.

walking towards to the porch where you sat, standing up straight. the silver haired boy was lending you a hand, “c’mere, you can tell me everything about your mom. as well as, it’s a friday, you can tell her you’ll sleep over too. i know she hates boys hanging with you but-” he lifted his hair. “with this i can pass off as a girl.”

you laughed, a bit of your anxiety disappearing. beunknownst to you, kazuha smiled a little, happy to see that he helped you to cheer up. you cant really disagree with him not when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes. really, the archons didnt disappoint with his features. “okay.” you replied, taking his hand.

“so, your mom said malicious words to you again?” kazuha said. the both of you sat in his living room, under the blanket and pillow fort he made. as the yellow blanket “ceiling” was falling, you sniffled, “yes..”

he grabbed your hands, looking directly into your eyes. “i love your family, name. but, she’s wrong. even though, you do struggle academically—”

“hey!” you interrupted, yanking his hands away from you. he apologizes instantly,

“im sorry but let me finish.”

you paused, moving your finger in a circle, signaling him to get to the point.

“thank you. you are much more than your grades, name. you’re like a star amongst the skies. every star is different, i just know you would excel at your dreams just as easy as this.” he snapped his fingers.

you started to chuckle a little as kazuha shot you a look saying that he could obviously snap his fingers and to stop laughing.

you covered your mouth.

well, he tried. he snapped again but only made a really sad and disappointing friction sound between his index and his thumb. similar to when you use a lighter but you have to ignite it five times before it works. he gets flustered, “you get what i mean right?”

you exhaled a laugh, your face was a little red from laughing and being flustered at once. “yeah, i do.”

flashback ended

you slapped his shoulder playfully, nearly erupting in giggles, “kazuha?”

“yeah?” he turned to look at you. huh? in this lighting, kazuha is kind of… no, you can’t have a crush on him again. it wouldnt end well and plus, he mentioned that he likes someone. actually, you overheard it when kazuha was talking to beidou and ningguang.

“kazuha, if you really like them, you would confess.” beidou? you think it was beidou’s voice, it was slightly more deep.

“no, i dont want to ruin our friendship. besides, i dont think they like me that way too. im content just being with them.” kazuha’s voice for sure. it was gentle and soft… usually. but his voice is filled to the brim with anxiety.

a more feminine voice replied, comforting kazuha. you assumed it was ningguang. “kaedehara, ive seen the way they look at you.”

“theyre probably looking at someone else.”

“ok, bro.”

“name?” kazuha called your name at least five times but yet you were staring off the distance. made him feel kind of self conscious. did they notice my hair is fading out? he tapped on your shoulder, “name??”

“oh sorry. do you think scaramouche and childe explored each other’s bodies?”

kazuha coughed loudly, his sunkissed face exploded in hues of reds, “what makes you say that?”

“its the way childe treats scaramouche like he’s worthy and how scaramouche looks at childe. like scaramouche’s eyes softens and everything.”

“really?” kazuha asked, subconsciously leaning closer to you.

you scrunched up your nose, “yeah?” noticing how close kazuha was and how soft his hair looks, how his eyes seems to glimmer in the afternoon sunlight and—

oh.

oh shit.

you pulled a little bit back, “doesn’t the weather seem nice today?”

weak excuse…

kazuha turned away from you, “youre right. usually it would be cloudy today.”

“yeah!”

“yeah.”

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 14 thoughts through 14.7 (there is too much for one post, I mean I could probably get four to five posts from 14.11 alone):

The team figures out Siberian's whole "is a projection" thing pretty quickly. Good for them.

I really want to know who ripped out page 325 for the "how horrible of a thing have I done that I don't want shared" check. I strongly lean Trickster but I'm not sure. I want more details on the Travelers and TiaV dammit!

Amy is having a bad day. Probably really a continuation of a bad few days. She probably didn't really need those fingers right?

Skitter criticizing Amy in her head for not being "creative" enough with her power is so on brand. Of course my daughter has already detailed out the complex ways she would use a power she doesn't even have. I love her.

I really wish the Undersiders/Travelers combo would stop splitting the fucking party. If they had just sent everyone after Siberian I bet the could have gotten the dude.

I do have have Skitter has gotten to a point where one of her "start of combat" actions is to just make a fuck ton of bug decoys. Almost without thought at this point.

Have I mentioned how much I love the "writing words in the air with bugs to communicate with people"? Cause I do. It makes sense. It would work. It lets her communicate long range. But it's also very silly to imagine. Very Silver Age in the best way.

Then it gets even better! Skitter makes a full blown animation to tell Amy that Siberian is trying to drop a building on her. Absolutely fucking perfection.

Tattletale maybe misjudged ever so slightly in what she revealed to Siberian. The combo of Siberian just flickering out of existence and everyone being like "oh fuck" was very good.

Amy trying to do her bullshit again and Tattletale having none of it, just destroying every argument before Amy even makes them until Amy agrees to come and help. More than makes up for any mistakes Tattletale made with Siberian.

The relay bugs are super neat.

Fucking high speed mutant dog/car chase. Absolutely fucking AMAZING. I loved every part of it. Ending with Sundancer just dropping a 50 foot wide sun on the road.

Tattletale trolling the shit out of Piggot and the heroes gives me life.

Also, Piggot's phone conversation with Tattletale was basically a villain monologue. For Piggot. Just all the shit about why she was doing it, why it was for the best, the coy little "sorry your teammates are gonna die, it's just an unfortunate side effect". All of it. This bitch is evil.

My daughter fucking tying up Crawler with spiderwebs. HOLY SHIT KID. God damn.

Very Mulan "Get off the roof, get off the roof, get off the roof" energy as they all run the fuck away from the bombing zone.

BUG HORSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BUG HORSE BUG HORSE BUG HORSE BUG HORSE BUG HORSE!!!!

AMY MADE MY DAUGHTER A FLYING BUG HORSE I'M DYING!

TAYLOR CAN BE THE (BUG)HORSE GIRL SHE WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO BE!

It rescues her and she has to teach it how to fly and they form a bond and she saves it and it saves her and and and she gives it a NAME! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

She's only had Atlas for a day and a half but if anything happens to him I will burn the world to the ground. Then I'll find another world and burn it to the ground too.

Firebombs don't really do shit but destroy a chunk of the city, probably kill some civilians, and make the heroes lives pretty fucking hard as they have to rely on the randomness of Clockblocker's power.

Also weren't there supposed to be a bunch of Nazis also getting hit by the bombs? One of the only somewhat maybe kinda almost decent parts of the plan Piggot and they aren't even here!

Piggot's plan is terrible and evil is what I'm saying.

The only reason nearly every hero doesn't end up permanently trapped or whatever inside Cache's bag of holding is cause Skitter was there to keep him from being crushed by a car. Well, Skitter and her bug horse (BUG HORSE!)

Skitter got to shoot Mannequin in the back. Very satisfying even if it didn't do long term damage.

Sucks to be Cache. He's . . . probably fine? I mean at least he got everyone out as he was melting.

Really sucks to be Glory Girl. She is . . . uhhh . . . hmmm . . . not dead. I can at least say that.

I mean Skitter got her to Amy. And Amy did stop her from dying. So like . . . she's probably going to be fine. Yep. Juuuuuust fine.

(Look if Amy wasn't a bitch about giving Atlas a digestive system I might be willing to forgive a lot. My daughters (bug)horse comes first. But Amy didn't so I won't. At least Grue was able to help. He gets a lot of brownie points for that.)

Anyway, Victoria needed to take some time to heal the rest of the way so she left completely under her own free will. And it will never come up again.

Bombin' 2: Electric HOLY FUCK PIGGOT YOU REALLY ARE CRAZY Bombgaloo

Kill a few more civilians and maybe Crawler and Mannequin. Destroy more of the city (including the library!) in a way that will probably never be salvageable (I mean at least some of it is stopped in time for god knows how long). Jack, Bonesaw, and Siberian escape. And because of what was done Bonesaw is going to activate her bio-weapon.

Great job Piggot. Gold star. You fucking did it. You saved the city. You motherfucking idiot.

[solaneceae]

blind devotion

a team bolas oneshot. codebreakers-centric (philza and étoiles) (read on ao3) found family, ambiguous relationships, fluff @apthotiosis tagging u because codebreakers heehee

“They’re not crow wings,” Jaiden remarks, tracing the sharp edges of the long feathers meant to catch on updrafts. “They’re too big. And you got extra bones and joints going on.” Phil hums, a hesitant eeeeeh with a twist of his hand. “There’s some crow in there. But most of it is actually—”

“Elytra!” Baghera quacks, awe lacing her voice as she croons over the white diamonds that appear beneath the grime and dust she’s cleaning out. “You’re part Elytrian, Philza?”

“Not exactly,” he laughs, pointing at the very human features on the rest of his body. “I’m not actually a hybrid. Not like Jaiden, or even like you. Those wings were a gift.”

Étoiles perks up. “From Kristin, yes?” he nails down, perceptive as ever. The rest of the flock oooohs, a little chorus of yes, of course, makes sense. “I like your wife, Phil,” the duck smiles, brushing out a crooked feather. She remembers the Goddess’s voice, soft and warm as late spring’s sunlight, pouring out of Phil’s mouth as she borrowed his body to greet them. “She’s so nice.”

“She’s awesome,” Étoiles nods, unseeing eyes reflecting invisible stars. He cannot see anymore, he’s told them, but he still fights like he can, somehow. “I see her, sometimes, when I don’t have enough sugar and I almost die. She tells me to take better care of myself, but I’m dumb and shit so it keeps happening.”

“T’es con,” Baghera chastises him, slapping the back of his head, and Philza snorts at their antics. He’s so glad Étoiles joined them, the memory of his expectant frame almost vibrating out of itself when the old crow-not-quite-a-crow approached him at Global, just the day before. The words had barely left his mouth and the warrior had dropped to his knees before him, like a worshipper before his deity made man. I am your arm, your sword, Étoiles had said to him once, long ago. Felt like long ago. Just tell me where to hit.

A wave of fond-flock-yesyes, the Angel of Death pulls Étoiles forward to shelter him within his wings. “Aaah, Philza, Phil,” Étoiles laughs as his friend pecks at his hair, crooning incessantly. “The goat, oh, he’s moving so good! So good aim!”

“No mames.”

“No maaaaames man.”

“Shut up dude,” Phil wheezes, a huge smile on his face as he runs his talons through the frenchman’s tangled, white-faded locks. Yesyes. “I’m having a moment.”

“Oh? He has a moment, okay. I fuck myself, I don’t move, I get it.”

“Oh my god, stop.”

“I want to see you fly,” Étoiles says, quieter. Almost a whisper, that has everyone tilt their head in focus. “I didn’t see you fly, that’s bullshit. It must be beautiful, to see.”

Phil flashes him a wry grin. “Maybe. They’re pretty fragile, still. I don’t want to fuck them up all over again. Pretty sure the Feds will just clip them once we get back anyway, so.”

“Fuck them!” Baghera screeches indignantly. “Not letting that happen. I kill them first.”

“It’s fine. Just gotta enjoy ‘em while I got ‘em.”

Étoiles pouts at that, mumbles something in rapid-fire French that sounds rude. Phil hums and cups his face with a low trill, talons rapping on the space between his skull and neck, feather-soft. His friend blinks, cloudy silver. “What do I look like to you?” Phil asks, feathers ruffling as he spreads his wings wide, his fellow avians shifting to avoid being smacked by them.

Étoiles smiles, all teeth and greenish gums. “Like home,” he says, and it’s such a silly yet earnest answer that Phil could kiss him into silence. Mine, his hindbrain thrums, fierce possessiveness curling around his heart, and Étoiles laughs, that airy, high-pitched wheeze of his, because he’s making bird noises again. “And he says, he says he’s no hybrid, this man?” he mocks, tackling Philza to the cold floor of their cave to wrestle him into submission. “He’s a liar! Lies! You know who you are, Felipe Minecraft! Embrace it!”

“I am- fuck, get off,” Philza growls, play? play? Swoops Étoiles’ legs from under him to pin him down and they’re both laughing, batting at each other’s faces, talons carefully curled inward to not slice at dark green skin. Baghera and Jaiden cheer them on from the sidelines, loose feathers flying here and there, a viney tail wrapping itself around his leg as they roll and swipe and snap their teeth at each other’s necks, play, play! 

Étoiles loses at some point, freezes when sharp claws brush against his jugular. “Oh, he’s too good,” he smiles, tired and fond. “He’s good, and I’m shit. GGs.”

“Don’t say that,” Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn’t draw away. Étoiles’ eyes are squinted in twin crescent moons, and he doesn’t know if he wants to pluck them out to wear like jewellery or forget himself in them. “You. Are the best,” he chirps, pressing his forehead against the other man’s, flock, mine. hello. “I chose you. And I only choose the best for my family.”

“That’s us,” Baghera gasps — she and Jaiden have taken to preening each other instead, her bill ruffling through dark blue and green to dislodge specks of dried blood and sand out of her flockmate’s wings. “Bolas family, yes!”

“You picked Roier first,” the warrior whines, hands pawing at Phil’s chest, not quite pushing him away. “You like him better, no? He’s better, stronger. I don’t blame you.”

“Cellbit wanted him. I wanted to make him happy.”

“Oh, he is,” Jaiden huffs. “They’ve been snogging in the nest all evening. It’s cute and all, but I can only take so much kissing noises until I gotta vomit.”

“Hater!” her sister teases, bonking her bill against her cheek. “You’re just a little hater, let them be gay and happy.”

“They can be gay and happy and not slobber over each other.”

“I kinda like it,” Slime pipes up from his hole in the ground. Jaiden quirks an eyebrow at him. “...You need to get over Cellbit, dude.”

“Whaaaaat? You’re talkin’ nonsense. Put your mask back on, the fumes got to you.”

“Don’t you have Mariana anyway?”

“I don’t see your point.”

“Roier is Roier,” Phil cuts them off, catching Étoiles’ wrists to push them down against the stone. Mine. “You’re you. Cellbit wanted him, I wanted you. Simple.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” A croon, their noses brush together. Jaiden makes a gagging sound, which makes Baghera cackle. What am I doing? “Phil?” He blinks. His friend is looking up at him, eyes crinkled up in amusement, fang poking out from beneath his upper lip. “I’m already yours. You don’t need to go all birdbrain on me.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t be sorry, be the GOAT that you are.” Étoiles pushes himself up, and Philza lets him. He tilts his head to the side, like he always does whenever he’s mapping out his surroundings. “Phil, Phil,” he nudges at the crow’s shoulder, vine-tail thumping against the ground in renewed vigot. “PvP check, yes? Sticks?”

“Bruh.”

“Come oooon.”

“We’re actually ahead today, let’s not die and mess it up.”

“Rhoooooo…”

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

You made headcanon of Gwen and Miles proposal, but how do you think the wedding will be like, I mean let's face it at that point both Gwen and Miles will be dying of nerves before they got to the altar. Also there is no doubt that Pavrit will plan the whole thing.

Oh ho ho, oh boy that would be fun. I don't have a lot of brainpower right now but let me think.

You are right, Gwen and Miles would be SO nervous, I think at first they would try to pretend not to be (to be each other's support and also because nerves or not, they DEFINITELY want to do this.) Before eventually one of them caves, and then they cuddle together while reaffirming to each other everything would be okay.

Pavitr and Rio would be working together in this, I am sure. Rio would be SO excited, and also trying to make sure to invite everyone in their lives.

(There is this idea that latino families are extremely big, and that's not really the truth, like sure there are families that are big, but is also that they tend to stay connected. I had fourth degree cousins inviting me to weddings in other countries.)

In all honesty Miles and Gwen aren't that bothered letting Rio and Pavitr do a lot of the planning; mostly because planning weddings is stressing and hectic.

Pavitr would show Gwen two different tones of whites for the napkins, and Gwen would say that she doesn't notice the difference. Pavitr is in shock.

(Miles doesn't have this problem, because he is an artist and you bet the guy notices the variances in tone because that type of detail is important.)

(Pavitr was also in shock because his idea of an American wedding is thanks to movies, so he thinks is traditional to have lots of white and little colour. Rio mitigates this to some degree.)

Miles and Gwen joke to call the wedding off and instead elope to Las Vegas or a cruise. The reality is that they would had done it if it wasn't because their parents wouldn't had forgiven them for it.

George and Jeff are use to awkwardly standing around each other; normally try to keep the other busy by exchanging police stories. George is there for Gwen's moral support, and Jeff is there because of Rio.

Miles has a hard time deciding a best man, but despite everything, he chooses Peter because he wouldn't be the man and the spider-man he is today without him. Yes, Peter cried when he heard this.

I think Gwen would not feel is fair to choose between Peni and Margo, since I think they are all good friends; and her relationship with Jess was never the same after what happened. So she decides to throw tradition out of the window, and instead of having a maid of honour, she has Hobie as her best man. He offers to wear a dress because fuck gender roles, and he would look amazing in one anyways.

For shits and giggles, the wedding is very much spider themed. There a bunch of little spiders details everywhere you go and in the ballroom. Miles's white suit has little silver spiderweb details, while Gwen's dress has black lace on the skirt with spider-motifs too.

That's all I have for now! I may think of a things later, but like I say, brain fried lol.

[shithowdy]

Please tell us more about fallout Oliver (falliver?) did you like the show by the way?

You could say it made me... falliver in love....

That sucked, I'll workshop that one.

I loved the show!! I even did some fanart for it, I never do that! Like a lot of people it was my impetus to actually Play A Game, despite people insisting for years it would be up my alley and getting the old 'I'll add it to my list'. Seeing Cooper run around like a yeehaw maniac had me continuously thinking "oh he and Oliver would be such good friends" and once you start imagining an OC within a setting it's all over for you.

Considering they are both prewar ghouls who served in Alaska as power armor operatives there's a significant chance they do know each other (in WoW, he was a Silver Hand paladin before becoming a DK-- how could I resist the parallels). Maybe one day I'll draw them getting trashed on coke together.

Unlike in WoW, where he deserted on conscience in the middle of the Stratholme culling, he stayed with the military right up until he met an abrupt "retirement" in 2070 after a psycho-induced heart attack inside his armor, an incident that left him deeply traumatized and mistrustful of any sort of organization where you can't say 'no' to a command, which is why he refuses to fully affiliate with the NCR. The "good boy" payout he got for the incident allowed him to retire and purchase his dream ranch in the Jemez Mountains, which he and some fellow hands maintained for seven years until the bombs dropped.

My headcanon is that northern NM didn't get that cooked in the blasts (Alamogordo is presumably a barren field of trinitite, though), but his area was so remote that when communities tried reforming into city-states and pooling their resources, no one could justify the back-and-forth with limited transport options. So he released his small livestock and they all packed up and attempted a cattle drive toward Taos with other ranchers. But winter was setting in, and an irradiated storm from the north blew through in what would be the event that began his ghoulification. Most died, the cattle scattered or also died, and as an absolute husk of an individual he decided "fuck it" and went west with his horse to find the hidden vault that is his son's tomb instead.

And for 200 years he's chased that delusion, not knowing he's been looking in the wrong city the entire time. 👎 He did meet and fall in love with a woman (hi, Senkha!) about 150 years before this RP; they spent decades together and through her he gained experience with psykers and how to wall them out of your surface thoughts with constant music, but he also gained experience with the eventual understanding that most humans grow old and he doesn't. When she passed, he began distancing himself from people.

When he's not scouring the old LA metro haystack for a nonexistant needle, he does mercenary work to support his hobby as a scavenger for prewar memorabilia and civilian tech. His prized possession is a turntable he repaired (and the vinyls he's scavenged for it), and he also has a truck he's completely restored save for the fact that he has no power core for it. So he just sits in it and pretends.

Some mercenary work he did close to their formation put him immediately on the Legion's shit-list, a status in which he takes pride and now goes out of the way to cultivate to the point that he's earned the nickname "Matador" within the NCR. Now that he is traveling with the deserter son of a high-ranking individual in the Legion, life is about to get spicy!

So yeah, I'm having fun. I've joked that this is actually the setting he's supposed to be from and WoW was actually the AU, because my boy was made for this.

[forensicheart]

Anything For You

Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Reader

Summary: After a long day of crime Peter almost forgets about his and his partner’s anniversary but lucky being Spider-Man has some benefits.

——————————————————————————

“Shit, shit, shit, shit” Peter mumbles as he quickly swings from building to building. He had done what he promised to never, he had forgotten the one year anniversary and now he was rushing to get a present and get back home to Y/n.

Landing on the ground in an alleyway Peter searches for the bag that he left behind the bins.

“Where did I put it, come on” Peter speaks to himself searching behind the bins and around the alleyway. “It’s not here” After a few moments of panic Peter realised he’ll have to head into the store in his Spider-Man outfit. Walking into the jewellery store the store clerk looks at him in shock.

“Um hi” Peter starts raising a hand to wave “Where would I find anniversary jewellery?” The store clerk points towards a class case near the back of the store and Peter nods in thanks rushing over there and taking a look at the case.

Rings, necklaces, gems, jewellery boxes, so many options but Peter’s eyes stop when they come across this one beautiful necklace. A thin silver chain with the most beautiful red charm on the centre of the chain. The ruby red of the charm reflecting in the artificial lights in the store and complimenting the silver so well. Peter knew this was the one so calling out to the store clerk he showed her the necklace and she smiled.

“Getting a gift for a very lucky someone?” She asked raising an eyebrow at him and if Peter hadn’t been wearing the mask she would have seen him blushing at the question. He nodded he response nervously scratching his neck as he smiled a smile she couldn’t see.

“Well let’s get this purchased and wrapped then shall we?” The store clerk spoke as she made her way to the counter register scanning the jewellery and bagging the beautiful necklace. Peter pulled out his wallet hanging the clerk the correct amount of money and thanking her as he grabbed the go fr off the counter and made his way out of the store.

The sun was almost set as Peter let the store door close behind him and he new that he had to hurry if he didn’t want to arrive to a angry partner. So aiming for a nearby building Peter made his way back to his house swinging from building to building and clutching the bag tightly in his free hand.

Upon arriving at the door of his house Peter could see Y/n preparing dinner instead, the front door open to let the house cool.

“You know, you shouldn’t be leaving your door open like this, who knows who could walk on in” Peter announces as he pulls off his mask throwing it on the couch. Y/n jumps turning around confused until they see it’s Peter by the door and they run towards him, arms open and a wide smile spread across their face.

“Peter! I almost thought you weren’t coming back in time” Peter simply laughed as he engulfed Y/n in a hug.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world” The two pulled apart smiles on both of their faces and holding hands.

“I have something for you” Says Peter holding up the bag for Y/n to see. Y/n looks from the bag back up to Peter and reaches up to give him a kiss.

“Thank you Peter. Oh! Let me get your gift as well” And with that Y/n scurries off upstairs returning not long later with a wrapped box in their arm. Peter raises an eyebrow and Y/n simply grins at him handing him the box as they take the bag.

Opening the bag a shocked look spread across Y/n’s face as they pull out the necklace from the bag.

“Oh Peter, this is- this is beautiful, oh my goodness” The shocked look doesn’t falter as they look up at Peter putting the bag down and admiring the necklace in awe. Peter takes the necklace gently from their hands and moves behind them.

“Here, allow me” Moving their hair to the side Y/n faces forward as Peter clasps the necklace around their neck. Y/n reaches for the charm on the necklace a hand coming up to their mouth and tears form in their eyes.

“Thank you so much, I can’t believe this, it’s incredible” The two embrace once again and Peter speaks.

“Anything for you”

[calumsrockstar]

Dinner Drudgery - Ashton Irwin

a/n: This is so filthy, i love it!!

Word count: 1.4k

Contents: A lot of dom Ash, nudes, (Semi) public sex, fingering, choking, swearing

Where you and Ash go to a fancy dinner party, and you decide to have some fun

Dom!Ash x Sub!Reader (fem)

You looked in the mirror, on your tippy toes, concentrated on curling your hair. Ash came up behind you, and slapped your ass. "Ash!" You screamed.

"Who are you getting all pretty for, baby?" He asked. You turned around to look at him. "Ash... The dinner party tonight, you don't remember? With, Cal, Luke, Mike, Sierra, Crystal?"

"Oh, shit." He said, while laughing. "I totally forgot about that!" You ruffled his hair. "Well, you gotta go get ready, pretty boy, cause we're leaving soon."

Ash rushed to take a shower. When he was done, he wrapped himself around with a towel. You stared and bit your lip."You like what you see honey?" He smiled. "You know I do." You said and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Now go get ready!" You screamed at him.

You decided to wear a gold dress, paired with some black heels. The dress was short, a bit too short. Gotta be careful around Ash, you thought. Ash came out in a black suit and a silver necklace.

Ashton scanned your body up and down with his eyes. He ran up to you and started kissing your neck. "Don't start something you can't finish, Ash." You said looking him in the eyes. "You look so good baby, can't help myself, we have time right?" Standing behind you and groping you.

You felt his hot breath on your neck. "We'll have to do that when we get back." You told him hesitantly. "I don't think I could wait that long princess, you're just too damn gorgeous."

After a few minutes, you convinced him to actually go, even though your mind kept racing thinking about the things he could do to you.

You rang the doorbell while Ashton had his hands on your back. Luke answered. "I'm so glad you guys could make it!" He hugged both of you. "Make yourselves at home."

You were greeted by all of your friends, one by one you hugged them and kissed them on the cheek, Ashton did the same.

You all sat down. "Wow Sierra, you made this all for us?" Ashton said. "Hey man, I helped too!" Luke blurted out, and everyone laughed. "Sure did, bud." Ash replied.

This dinner party was getting a little boring, you thought.

While Ash was talking, you slid your hand down the table and trailed his cock inside his pants with your hand. "So, we were basically..." Ashton stopped in the middle of his sentence, and looked at you. That look always meant: "Tread carefully."

He resumed his conversation, but you could see he was fidgeting, he always had a soft spot for you, and you could tell he was getting hard.

Again, you put your hand on his crotch, rubbing up and down, you could feel his cock twitching in your hand.

He whispered in your ear "Be careful, or else you'll have to get punished." Looking at you with a cocky smile. You also smiled and shrugged your shoulders.

You tapped Sierra on the shoulder, "Hey Si, where's the bathroom?" You asked her. "You go down the hallway and then you turn left." She answered. You said thank you and left.

You entered the bathroom and locked the door, looking at yourself in the mirror. You bit your lip.

You decided to take off your dress. You wanted to find out what Ash meant by "be careful."

You pointed your phone camera to the mirror and snapped a picture of yourself in your black lingerie. This was Ash's favorite pair, you would be sure he would go feral. You hit send.

A few seconds after you heard a notification on your phone.

Ash: What do you think you're doing baby?

y/n: I thought this was your favorite pair of lingerie? Or would you prefer it off?

You took off your bra, exposing your breasts and took a selfie of yourself, biting your thumb.

Ashton couldn't lie to himself, his hard cock was straining through his pants, he was so horny he couldn't think straight.

Ash : Are you going to be a brat? Do you know what happens to brats?

y/n: I don't know, are you gonna spank me?

Ashton was going absolutely feral, seeing you like this, knowing that he couldn't touch you, was making him insane. Pre-cum was starting to leak through his boxers.

It was getting unbearable.

Finally, you sent a video of you leaning on the bathroom sink, spreading your pussy and fingering yourself, with the caption. "Come get me, just a few rooms away."

This was his breaking point. He asked Luke where the bathroom was. "You go down the hallway and then you turn left, but I think y/n is..." He didn't let Luke finish, and stormed down the hallway. "Oh... okay..." Luke raised an eyebrow.

He pounded on the door. You gently unlocked it with a smile on your face. "Hey Ash..." He immediately pushed opend the door, locking it and pushing you up against the wall.

"You think you can act like a slut and not get treated like one, huh?" Putting his hand around your neck and tightening his grip. You looked into his eyes. "They're just pictures." You smiled, in between slow breaths, your head feeling fuzzy with euphoria.

He picked you up and propped you on the sink, you being completely naked sped up the process.

He inserted two fingers inside of you curling them, you gasped at the sensation, rubbing your clit with his thumb. You tried holding in your moans, Ashton realized this, and laughed.

He was good with his fingers, too good. In minutes, you were reaching your climax. "I´m gonna cum, Ash." You whispered, whimpering.

He immediately stopped, you looked at him with puppy dog eyes and whined.

"You know I wasn´t gonna make you cum that easily after that little stunt that you pulled, right y/n?" He said with a cocky grin.

"I´ll do anything." You pleaded. "Oh, she´ll do anything!' He repeated, mocking you. "Come suck me off then."

You were happy to do so. You unbuckled his belt, getting on your knees and watched his erection spring at you.

Ashton wasn´t one for teasing, so he grabbed your hair and put it in a ponytail, and forced his cock down your throat. You gagged and splutterred while your mascara ran down your face.

You felt his dick twitching inside your mouth, looking up, you saw Ashton´s mouth dropping to an O shape, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "Fuck..." He muttered under his breath.

He pulled your mouth out of his dick with his hands, turning your face up to look at him.

"You know what brats get, y/n..." He whispered. He picked you up and propped you back on the sink.

Without warning, he slammed into you, holding your back with one hand. You almost screamed, digging your nails into his back. He covered your mouth with one hand, and smiled. "Be careful, gorgeous. Wouldn´t want people hearing you, you fucking slut."

"Who do you belong to?" He asked you. "You..." You muttered under your breath. "I couldn´t hear you princess, use your words."

"You Ash, i´m only yours, do whatever you want to me." You said, looking into his eyes. "Good girl."

His breaths were getting heavy, yours were too, putting your head against his neck, he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"You want me to make you cum babygirl?" He huffed. "Yes Ash, please make me cum." You pleaded.

He rammed into you, harder, and faster. "Ash, fuck!" You screamed. He was looking at you like a hungry beast. "Ash, I'm close..." You said. "Go on... Cum all over my dick, princess."

You writhed and then felt yourself cum all over him, soon his cum spilled inside of you, dripping out.

Ashton quickly went at got a piece of toilet paper to clean up the mess you both made.

Ashton looked at you. "What got into you today?" He laughed.

"Hmmmm... I don't know, just felt like being punished I guess." You said, smiling. Ashton smiled back at you.

"Do you think they heard us?" You asked him. "Oh, absolutely!" He responded. You hid your face in your hands.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you on the forehead. "Who cares? They'll know how good you sound when you fuck me."

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Chapter 3: Listen to your heart

Gale Cleven x Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: When their plane is diverted to Thorpe Abbott airfield Hope and Ruth's lives change forever. These two brave nurses must face the trials and tribulations of war, as well as suffering the heartache that war inevitable brings with it.

Collab: A Pair of Silver Wings by @major-mads

Sunday 8th August, 1943

The mess hall buzzed with energy as Buck and Johnny sat at breakfast with Curt, who slowly moved his powdered eggs around on his plate with his fork.

“I can’t eat this shit anymore,” he groaned, pushing the plate away from him.

John took a slow sip of his “coffee,” raising an eyebrow at the man. “Then don’t eat it.”

“Oh wow,” Biddick quipped. “What a great idea, Bucky. I’d never thought of that.”

The major smirked behind his mug and shot his friend a wink. Buck watched on in amusement, used to the two going back and forth as he and John did.

Leaning his elbows on the table, Curt leaned over the table toward John with a teasing glare. “Have you heard anything from Ruthie? Has she mentioned me? I thought I made a good first impression the other night.”

“Hmm,” Johnny hummed, pursing his lips for a moment before pointing at Biddick. “That’s Nurse Morgan to you, you dodo. I’m surprised you even remember anything from the dance with how drunk you were.”

“Oh I couldn’t forget a face like that,” he chuckled.

John’s eyes narrowed playfully as he clasped his hands together and leaned on the table. “Well it’s a good thing for me that she could forget yours, then,” he clapped back. “And you’re not the one she kissed goodnight.”

Buck rolled his eyes and continued to eat his breakfast as Egan’s loud, wide-mouthed cackle echoed through the mostly quiet mess hall. Curt then turned to Gale with a raised brow. “How about Hope-”

“Nope,” Buck interrupted calmly, raising his cup and taking a sip of his steaming coffee.

The other two men watched him as a tiny grin formed on the Major’s lips. Although he didn’t talk about it much, they could tell Buck had already developed deep feelings for the woman.

Raising his eyebrows at Curt, John grinned. “Oh boy.”

“You’ve got it bad, Buck,” Biddick laughed, his hand landing on Gale’s shoulder roughly. “You gotten a reply to your letter yet?”

Thinking of the perfectly folded letter from Ruth he’d picked up that morning sitting in his breast pocket, John smiled down at his food, warmth spreading through him at the thought of the blonde. Buck, however, pursed his lips and shook his head at the question.

“I actually haven’t written her yet,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “I want-”

“What!?” Johnny all but yelled, his eyes widening as coffee almost spewed from his mouth. “Why the hell not, Buck? I already sent one to Ruth and got a response.”

Gale groaned and put down his fork with a clink. “Because of Hugh.”

“Why are you so worried about Charlie?” Curtis asked, wearing a confused expression.

“Because he’s in my squadron. And he’s her brother.”

John pointed and leaned over the table at him. “Hope’s a big girl, Buck. She can make her own decisions. Screw what Hugh says.”

“But-” Gale started but was once again cut off by Bucky.

“He’s gonna hate you even more if he thinks you're leading her on. You not sending Hope a letter isn’t making anything better,” he said, a smirk beginning to tug at his lips as he continued. “On top of the condom situation.”

John and Curt busted out into chuckles as Buck just groaned, closing his eyes tightly. “Oh, please don’t remind me.”

The ideal chatter was disturbed by the door to the mess hall swinging back on its hinges with a crash, followed by heavy footfall as Hugh all but stormed through the building like a tornado. He snatched a mug off a table and poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee before marching past the trio, staring daggers at Gale who looked up worriedly from his breakfast.

Curt’s eyes followed the man as he walked in, muttering under his breath, “Speak of the devil.”

"Good morning to you, too, Sparky," John called out with a small wave as he walked by, only to be met with deafening silence from the other pilot.

Hugh's harsh glare was burning a hole in the back of Gale’s skull and he thought any second now he’d come into his brain and it would be lights out.

“You’ve really pissed him off this time, Buck, and you didn’t even get his sister into bed,” John laughed heartily, taking a long swig from his whiskey and coffee, it was most likely more whiskey than coffee but Gale humored him.

“Will you give it a rest? I’m already getting it from Hugh without your added input,” Gale stabbed aggressively at his scrambled eggs, willing the eyes of the room to stop looking at him.

Curt snorted beside him, waving his fork around. “Well, I’m telling you boys, if I’d have had Hope in my arms and she’d bought condoms with her, let’s just say she wouldn’t have been going back home with them.”

That was the final straw.

Gale slammed his fist down on the table, ignoring the way Johnny jumped in his seat, spilling his coffee over the table, and the way several chunks of his scrambled egg disappeared onto the floor,

“You say anymore slander about my girl, Biddick and I swear…”

“Your girl, Buck?” John raised his right eyebrow, an amused smirk on his lips as his mustache twitched. “She’s your girl and you haven’t even written her yet?”

Sometimes Gale wished he could rip that stupid mustache off John’s face, but he somehow kept his cool.

It would seem that Hugh had heard the whole commotion. His chair screeching back from the table, he stomped up between the tables once more, his glare never leaving Gale until the door slammed shut behind him.

Gale groaned, unsure if it was in relief or at the impending doom that he was likely to suffer if this debacle continued. Without a second thought, he excused himself from the table, ignoring the calls of protest from John and Curt, and hurried after Hugh.

“Hugh! Hugh, wait up. Please I want to talk to you,” Gale jogged after the tall brunette whose face turned sour the instant he noticed the man.

“Buck, I ain’t in the mood for more bullshit okay? I thought you were a good guy…nothing like Egan, but you're just as bad, and you’re playing with my sister's heart. I can’t have you breaking it,” Hugh snapped, his dark eyebrows set in a permanent crease on his forehead as he spoke. “She’s all I’ve got Buck, don’t take her from me too.”

“What do you mean? I wouldn’t take her away from you…?” Gale began but Hugh shook his head.

“Not literally but if you break her heart she won’t be visiting Thorpe Abbott any time soon. Her plane landing here has been the best part of this damn war,” Hugh's eyes were teary and he seemed deflated compared to his normally bubbly character. The missions had been taking their toll on all of them but it never seemed to hit Hugh, unless he just never let on Gale was realising.

“Do you want me to stop contacting her? I understand if you do, Hugh. I care for your sister deeply but I care about my crew too. I never asked permission to court your sister and that was wrong of me. I have strong feelings for her but I understand if you want me to stop,” Gale tried to keep his composure but his heart ached painfully in his chest at the thought of never seeing Hope again, never seeing her smile, the way her eyes creased when she laughed.

Hugh shook his head, “I can’t ask that of you, Buck.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. That kind of love belongs on a silver screen, it’s not real, until you stumble across two people that it is real for and that’s you and Hope. I love my little sister with all my heart and she’s finally found someone she thinks worthy of hers. You just treat her right, Gale.”

Buck nodded quickly, “I swear to you that I have Hope’s best intentions at heart. I think I love her, Hugh. I really truly love her. Nothing has been the same since I met her, I can’t sleep without thinking of her, can’t eat, every time I fly I wonder if she’s flying too.”

Hugh nodded half heartedly, “Yeah, that sounds a awful lot like love to me. Well, it could be worse. I could have Egan as my future brother in law instead. That would be worse right?”

Gale chuckled, “Of course. Far worse.”

Hugh patted Gale on the back, a small smile now on his lips as his anger subsided, “Hope really likes you Gale, so don’t fuck things up okay? And for Christ sake write her back, she’s doing my head in asking about you.”

Gale smirked as Hugh walked away, “Thanks Sparky,” he called and was greeted with Hugh raising his middle finger in the air. So he had Hugh’s blessing, now all he had to do was write to Hope.

Thursday 12th August, 1943

“You ready girls!” Frank called over his shoulder, glancing as Hope and Ruth took the stretcher from the medics below them, and loaded the last wounded soldier onto the wrack. Hope pulled out her flight manifest and checked off the final patient to board. The young boy reached out, grasping Hope’s hand.

“Nurse,” his voice cracking as he tried to grab her attention. He was so young, barley eighteen years old. His bright blue eyes, glossy and hazy as he gazed up at her.

“Yes, My Love,” Hope crouched down, clasping the boy's hand in one of hers while her other brushed away his brunette locks from his face. She tried to stop her eyes from drifting down his body to where only stumps of his legs remained, the burnt flesh wrapped neatly in crisp bandages.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered and Hope smiled sweetly at him, squeezing his hand. “When I write home, I’m gonna tell my Mumma ‘bout you.”

A single tear trickled down her cheek and she leant forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and watching until he drifted off to sleep. His delicate, young features no longer etched with worry and the hard lines across his forehead softening as the morphine began to take effect.

Hope turned watching as Ruth comforted one of the other young men further down the plane who had managed to remove some of his bandages.

“Hey, don’t do that, you need those,” Ruth tutted, helping the Private sit up a little so she could secure fresh, white bandages around his bloody arm. The poor boy grumbled under his breath as Ruth tucked in the end. “Now leave them be, okay?”

The young boy nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his cot. They were the most comfortable racks, cool metal bars lining the hammock-like beds that swayed as the C47 rocked through the sky.

Hope took her seat beside Ruth, who had finished trying to redress the soldier's wounds, smiling briefly at her friend, who wore the same exhausted expression she did.

“I can’t wait to get back to the Grove. I need a warm bath and my bed,” Ruth mumbled, stretching out her aching muscles that screamed against the tension in her body.

“Oh don’t say that, Rue. We’ve still got to drop these poor lads off at the hospital in Mateur yet.” Ruth just groaned in response.

The dance with the boys had been their last outing in a while. It was the last time Hope hadn’t felt completely exhausted, she’d been relaxed, able to let go, and safe in Gale’s arms.

This trip had been hard. The plane was at full capacity and when they had arrived on the airfield at Termini Imerese, Sicily they were instantly thrown into action. Disappearing into tent hospitals that lined the airfield, their white tents flapping in the harsh wind that did little to cool the heat from the scorching midday sun.

Hope and Ruth conferred with the surgeons, assessing and stabilising patients that were safe to fly, meaning that many of the young men with head injuries or who had suffered significant blood loss would be unable to fly due to the unpressurised aircraft cabins. Many of the men didn’t have emergency medical tags and so the girls had to make their own assessments for many of the patients.

The thrumming roar of the wind C47’s engine erupting to life always brought a great sense of comfort to Hope, along with an impending sense of fear in unison. This job, while rejuvenating her youth through the exhilarating flights and the lives they saved, aged her with each passing moment spent in the air, because after every successful landing she was left with the feeling that although they had saved lives, they couldn’t save them all.

Frank and his fellow pilot chatted hastily in the cockpit, their muffled voices cracking through over the radio. As soon as the plane levelled out Hope and Ruth stood, each taking a side of the plane and beginning the check ups on their patients, recording their temperature, pulse and respiration as well as checking there was no strike through of blood from their dressings. The girls worked quickly, only confiring on their patients conditions.

It always amazed Hope how quickly their work changed them, on the flight over Ruth had been once again telling her about the letter she’d received from John. Hope feared she could probably quote Ruth’s letter herself by now, but she never complained, pleased that Ruth was finally coming out of herself.

Hope had her own letter from Gale tucked into her top overall pocket, over her heart. His words burning into her flesh and she felt as though he was right there beside her all along.

Having dropped off the soldiers at the large US hospital in Mateur, Tunisia, the C47 headed home. The mood was somber as the large metal bird rattled its way across Europe towards home.

Ruth’s eyes had closed about half an hour previous and Hope didn’t have the heart to wake her up. She looked so peaceful, the wrinkles that normally appeared when she smiled were smoothed away, and her blonde locks fell softly from where she had so lovingly pinned them that very morning.

Hope took Gale’s letter out of her pocket, smoothing out the creases that had poked around the edge of the page. Words of affirmation sprung out at her and a smile was instantly cemented to her lips as she relived the last moments with him.

The flight home always seemed quicker and soon ‘The Angel of Death’ was touching down on the runway. Hope helped a rather sleepy Ruth off the plane, and waved goodnight to Frank, who chucked in amusement at Ruth.

“Goodnight Ladies.”

“Come on, Rue. Let’s get you home,” Hope wrapped her arm around her sleepy friend, leading the way to the Nissan huts they were billeted in. Some of the other nurses were still stationed in Africa and so they currently had the hut to themselves.

Hope lay Ruth down on the bed, smiling as she snuggled closer into the pillow, so much for a warm bath. She would rigg her about it later but she could deny that the stress of the day was getting to her too, but something restless kept her from falling into her own bed.

Instead Hope sat at the small desk in the corner, pulling free a piece of paper and a pen. She pulled Gale’s crumpled letter from her pocket and smoothed it flat onto the desk, reading back over his words.

Sunday 8th August

Dearest Hope,

I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write you. I fear that I may have caused some friction with your brother but it appears I have ‘gained his blessing’ to court you. Please don’t be annoyed at him, he’s only looking out for you. He cares for you deeply, as do I and he only wants what’s best for you. Apparently, he deems me as something that is good for you, I only hope you can agree with him.

I have thought of nothing but you since the dance. The way your face lit up in the moonlight. I often close my eyes and imagine you still in my arms, swaying underneath the stars. The smell of your perfume, your soft hair against my face, your lips on mine. I apologise if I speak too plainly but I feel very strongly for you Hope. I would very much like to see you again soon, although I hear from Ruth’s letter to Bucky that you have been flying back and forth to Sicily. I hear that Italy is a very beautiful country. Maybe someday when this war is won we could visit together.

We have a mission next week and I fear that each time we loose more of our boys. It is inevitable but it is hard to not let it bother you. I hope that if you have some time off soon that you may visit Thorpe Abbott again. I could give you a tour of the Fort should you wish me too.

I hope to receive your reply soon.

I’m thinking of you always my darling.

Love your

Gale

Hope grinned at his words ‘her Gale’, she’d never imagined that a man like Gale would want her. He was a Major after all, strikingly handsome and one of the kindest men she had ever met, and he was hers. Trying not to giggly like a love sick fool, she put her pen to paper.

Thursday 12th August

Dear Gale,

I’m so glad to have received your letter. You had me worried for a while when Ruth received a letter from John and you hadn’t written. I’m sorry my brother has been causing you such trouble. He means well and he is just trying to look out for me but he sometimes forgets that I am a grown woman now.

Our latest flights have taken us to Sicily and the wounds we are seeing are far more severe than I have seen before. More and more boys are coming home without limbs and I fear that this war will only take more and more from us. A young boy today, no more than eighteen, called me an angel. It is silly really but I fear that my face is the last that many boys have seen. Their tortured souls finally find some peace.

I am sorry to speak so morbidly, today has been a tough one. I do hope to visit Thorpe Abbott again very soon and I know that Ruth does too. In fact she is rather adamant on it.

I often think of our time together at the dance, despite the lack of actually dancing, it is one of the best nights of my life and one of my fondest memories. I hope we can have many more nights like that one.

Keep safe up there Gale.

Yours

Hope

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hope! Ruth! You alive in there?” a voice hollered through the hut’s door, rousing Ruth for the second time that morning. She opened her mouth to reply, but Hope beat her to it.

“Go away, Frank!” she groaned, covering her ears with her pillow.

“It’s almost noon,” the man chuckled. “I know you’re tired but you both need to get up. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Sitting up abruptly, Ruth grabbed her watch off her small side table, her eyes widening when she read 11:43 am. She looked over to Hope who was also staring at her watch in utter disbelief.

“I haven’t slept in this much since I was a teenager,” Hope muttered under her breath before turning to Ruth, almost breaking into a fit of laughter at the blonde’s wonky curls from the day before. “We look terrible.”

Frank pounded his fist against the door, yelling, “Get up!”

“WE ARE!!” They both hollered back, unable to keep the frustration from lacing their voices.

Throwing off her covers, Hope stood to her feet and marched over to the door, swinging it open. Ruth clamored quickly out of bed to follow her, stopping right behind her shoulder as they glared at Frank. His eyes scanned the women before him, and a grimace appeared on his face at their ragged appearances.

“Okay,” he started, raising his hands in surrender. “Go back to sleep. You look like shit, and I’d rather do things on the plane by myself than deal with your grumpy attitudes.”

They narrowed their eyes at him. “Nope. We’re awake now,” Hope retorted, smiling sweetly at him.

Sighing, Frank stepped back from the door with a barely concealed smirk. “Meet me at the hardstand.”

As Hope shut the door, Ruth flopped back on her bed, her eyes following Hope’s figure walking across the room to the desk in the corner. “How’s Gale?” she asked, propping her head up with her hand.

Hope began to neatly fold up the letter, smiling softly as she talked over her shoulder. “He’s good. Said he didn’t write because of Hugh causing problems, but he’s got his blessing now.” She turned toward Ruth with dusty pink cheeks, giggling to herself. “He even signed his last letter with ‘your Gale.’”

“Hope!” Ruth squealed, sitting up and covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve someone like Gale, and I’m sure Hugh sees how much he adores you.”

Hope looked down at the letter in her hands, her heart swelling at the thought of the man. “He’s amazing,” she whispered as her eyes traced over his name on the paper. After a few moments, she shook her head, seemingly clearing her thoughts, and raised an eyebrow at Ruth. “How’s John?”

It was now Ruth’s turn to blush, the tips of her ears heating up at the mention of the major. “Great, amazing, wonderful. I feel like I’ve known him so much longer than a few weeks, Hope. You know how I can get sometimes, but when I’m with him, I don’t feel nearly as anxious. And when he kissed me…I wished it could’ve lasted forever. I can’t wait to see him again.”

Sighing softly, Hope plopped down onto her bed. “Look at us, Rue. We’re like a bunch of lovesick teenagers.”

“Yeah, we are,” Ruth giggled, her mind replaying her and John’s laughter, soft touches, and tender looks from the dance. The way he held her face so delicately, how his lips-

“Come on,” Hope called, her mattress squeaking as she got up, breaking Ruth from her thoughts. “Let’s get ready so we can go annoy Frank.”

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike

[sageistri]

I have been entertaining the thought that RM demanded a solid promotional campaign and rollout since he’s been witness to everything that panned out last year. He watched from the sidelines JK getting posters, ads, promotion videos, playlisting, radio, influencer collaborations, media play and more. And I believe RM is someone who understands charts a fair bit. He watched one of them get everything on a silver platter and now probably wants a better package for himself too. Good for him. I hope everyone gets it. They still won’t get the scooter package, but anything is better than nothing. I hope JM gets it too. He’s gonna go to new heights with a half decent, unsaboataged album rollout.

Yeah so far his promo looks better than for indigo, not necessarily because of the posters alone but because I've seen a couple press releases giving insight into the album, and that's always a good way to drum up excitement.

But in my opinion all that doesn't do much if he's not getting the basics, the things that actually drives streams up and help with chart positions, which is good playlisting. What's the point of doing these things that only armys are going care about if they aren't doing the stuff that will get his music to a broader audience.

If a TTH placement wasn't the most important of all, some hybe artists wouldn't be getting it for every release and spending months on there.

Also I saw a lot of armys saying new jeans got the playlisting and support that BTS solos didn't get, and I agree but do they also forget that one member got more than new jeans ever got which means that Hybe could give it to the other members but they don't want to?. Like I understand saying "oh this rookie group got this but not bts", but I'm not going to blame a group of young girls for a decision hybe made themselves. Yes mhj is a leech, but I highly doubt she stopped bang pd from giving the others playlisting. Armys talking about payola when when jk is literally right there. If jk could spend months on TTH with multiple songs then I think other BTS members could get a good placement as well.

Like we all witnessed seven being moved up multiple spots on TTH in a single week, when usually the playlist gets updated weekly. Do you know the kind of in you need to have to get Spotify to do that?

Posters mean nothing when there's no playlisting, radioplay or even a good amount of physical cd stocks. If those weren't the ultimate needs, jk wouldn't have gotten all of that with 50k CDs being restocked every week.

Yes Tae got versions (but no CDs mind you or TTH), Hobi got CDs (and posters according to someone) but still no TTH. Everything's worse because the members aren't even here to perform or promote the music at all so they should be getting other ways to spread their music. At this point they can only hope a miracle happens for them.

Y'all don't understand how much work playlists do for an artist but I do understand and that's why I always talk about it. It's how you increase your monthly listeners because more people are introduced to your music, it keeps your Listener count and streams stable even of you don't drop music for a while. The weeknd doesn't have the biggest streams debut but he has the highest monthly listeners in the world and stability because his songs are added to a shit ton playlists.

At this point it feels like Hybe is doing all these little things like posters and CDs (with not even enough stock available) to hide the fact that they are not actually doing anything. Like I seriously doubt jk had less than 50k CDs first week for all 3 of his singles, but here they go giving other members 10-20k CDs that never gets restocked again. But of course jk Stans will say "I thought y'all said x could achieve what jk did if the got the same promo?, well look at friend(s)"... Itunes pre-orders and a couple versions does not even begin to put a dent in the kind of promo and push seven got but ok. If Hybe decided to give the other 6 members the exact same kind of push jk got they would definitely go bankrupt so why would they do that?

So right now even with Jimin I'm not banking on them doing what's expected, my hope right now is that he's able to get a broader audience even without their help. Lots of other artists have done it and he could.