#the story of him breaking into a girl’s room to watch her sleep shows that he had issues before that

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, bedtime stories

series masterlist

dad!lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - finn is begging for a bedtime story, and lando has the perfect one to share. 

masterlist

-

“but daddyyy,” your son whined for the fourth time, “i don’t wanna go bed!” with that he stomped his tiny foot onto the ground and crossed his chubby little arms in an attempt to be upset. 

“no ‘but daddy’, finn. it’s bedtime, you need to go to sleep,” lando spoke sternly to the little boy. finn has always been well-behaved. you and lando often joked that his terrible two’s were instead the terrific two’s. he was taught and exhibiting his manners, his patience was impeccable, and when either of you asked him to do something he usually followed through. except for bedtime. bedtime was his enemy, which in turn made it yours and lando’s as well. 

“noooooo daddy, pweasee,” your three year old continued on his quest to avoid sleep. lando let out a sigh and dropped a knee in order to reach finn’s height, “how about a bedtime story, finn? will that make ya feel better?” your husband holds his breath waiting for the answer, silently saying a prayer that his son will agree.

finn’s arms slowly fall from their crossed position and he sways his body a bit before a quiet ‘otay’ slips out of his mouth. his father attempts to hide his proud smile as he scoops the boy off the ground and begins carrying him to his room. 

“is momma coming for story?” finn asks his dad.

“of course, bud, i’ll go get her while you get ready in bed, ok?”

“otay!” with the assurance of your presence, finn began to squirm from his fathers hold in order to rush into his room, hopping onto his bed. lando takes a look in the room, smiling to himself as he watches his son grab different stuffed animals and toys to ‘watch the show’. your husband turns down the hall, bringing his knuckles up to knock gently on your office door. he cracks the door open, leaning his head in to gaze in your direction. 

“love?” hearing his voice, you turn in your chair, breaking your view from the computer in front of you and trading it for your husband's eyes. both of you take seconds to admire the other, comfortable, a little sleepy, and oh so beautiful. lando drinks in your beauty, and you do his. he gives you a smile that you gently return.

“finn’s asking that you join us for a bedtime story, fancy taking a break?” 

“i would love that,” you’re quick to reply, and with that you stand, lando grabbing your hand as you make your way to finn’s room. 

“momma!” your three year old enthusiastically lets out as he kneels on his bed.

“hi, baby,” you let go of lando’s hand, instead using it to run over your son's curly head of hair. letting out a quiet ‘scoot over’ to finn, you both proceed to get comfortable on his twin bed, ultimately ending with you lying back propped up on pillows with finn tucked into your side under the blankets. your husband takes a seat at the end of the bed and claps his hands together.

“right, now, are you both ready for the best bedtime story?” he raises his eyebrows and highers his pitch in order to gain some giggles from his two favorite people. 

“yes, dada! story! story!” finn chants between his laughs.

“yeah, daddy! story!” you begin to add into the chanting, the boy tucked into your side erupting in more giggles. lando sends a slight wink in your direction at your use of the nickname and clears his throat. 

“okay, this story begins alllll the way back before you were born,” 

a gasp escapes your son in shock at the timeline and he lets out a small ‘that a long time’ which makes you and lando share a look of, damn, are we that old?

lando brushes it off and continues, “once upon a time, there was a young woman, and her name was y/n,”

another gasp from your mini, “like momma?” he asks as he looks at you.

“yes, like momma,” your husband answers as you boop your son's nose, “and she was, and is, the prettiest girl in the world. now, y/n’s parents-”

“NANA AND PAPA!” finn screeches out with excitement. you and lando share a laugh and he starts up again, “yes, nana and papa. now y/n’s parents had just moved to england as y/n began school in england, too. so, they reached out to their friends, cisca and adam-”

“NAN AND POP!” another screech and another fit of laughs is echoed through your son’s room. 

“yes, baby, now let daddy finish the story,” you tell your son gently. 

“otay, momma, i sowwy i jus’ excited!” both you nor your husband could correct that sweet behavior, instead choosing to keep moving on. 

“alright, y/n’s parents and cisca and adam all had dinner one night, and they found out that their kids had a lot in common,” lando steals a moment to meet your eyes and you send him back a warm smile, “cisca and adam’s son, hmm let’s call him lando-”

“dada! that your name!” 

“that’s right, buddy, so the group of parents agreed to have the two kids meet. lando had been off racing and y/n was at university, so they hadn’t met for months. until, finally, it was a warm july evening, and the two arrived separately at a party y/n’s parents had put on. now, lando walked into the home, and right ahead of him he sees this girl. she was wearing a long, peach-colored dress, hair down and beautiful, and had eyes that were absolutely stunning,”

“wow, mommy you pwetty,” your son speaks towards you with wide eyes.

“thank you, my love,” you reach down to place a kiss onto the top of his head while holding down the tears threatening to escape. your husband and your son were both enamored by you and it made your heart soar and squeeze in love.

“lando had the need to walk over to this beautiful woman and introduce himself, and so he did,” your husband caught your eyes again, staring at you with the same love-struck look he did five years ago. 

“what she say, dada?”

“she said, hello,”

“what did you say, dada?”

“i said, hi,”

“when you get marry?”

“marriage didn’t come for a few more years, buddy. the first question i had to ask her was if she wanted to go on a date with me,”

“did you?”

“i did,”

“what she say?”

“thankfully, she said, yes,”

you noticed the time and began to wrap up the story, but not without adding in your own two-cents, “and that was the best decision she had ever made,” you placed another kiss on your son’s forehead and began to stand up from the bed. lando helps you up and tucks you into his side before you both bend down and begin to tuck your son in. lando brings his blankets up to your son's chin, kissing his forehead gently with a whispered ‘i love you’. you mimic his same actions after him while adding a ‘sleep tight, my love’ and finn's eyes are already closing. 

you both make your way to the door while your hand comes up to turn off the lights. lando begins to lead you out and shut the door, but stops abruptly when he hears the quiet question of, “dada?”

your husband’s head shoots back into the room, “yea, finn?”

“do the y/n and lando in story have happy end?”

lando’s hand finds yours at your side and he intertwines them as he responds, “oh yes buddy, they live happily ever after,” with that, his door is closed with a crack open and your husband shuffles you quietly down the hall back into your office. he begins to watch you pack and close up your work assignments on the computer, leaning his frame against the door. continuing to admire his wife as you speak up, “that was a great story, lan,”

“well i had great characters to speak about,” he chuckles and moves closer to you, grabbing your arms and tossing them gently around his neck before dropping his hands to your hips. 

“oh yes, fantastic, i especially liked the sound of that y/n girl,” you speak softly, staring up at your husband. he gives a light laugh and a squeeze to your bum in response before dropping his head down in order to press his lips against yours. 

pulling away gently, you begin to rake your hand through lando’s curls as you speak, “we got really lucky with him,” you refer to your sleeping boy down the hall. 

“we really did, y/n. you want another?”

“another?”

“yes, another baby. c’mon finn’s three now, its a good age to start trying again, he would understand, i should have a brea-”

“okay,”

“really?”

“yes, i would love to start for another baby, lan,”

“god, i love you so much, y/n” lando leans down again pulling you into a kiss. you break apart quickly, adding in your own ‘i love you so much, too, lan,” as you both proceed to head to the bedroom. 

-

a/n - let me know if you all want this continued! and feel free to send in requests for what you want to see! xoxo

[imtryingbuck]

Clingy

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky overhears his girlfriend calling him clingy

Word count: 1243

Warnings: sad Bucky and swearing

A/N: whilst editing this I realised that Alpines a girl but just for the sake of this story we’re going to pretend she’s a boy🙃

Masterlist

Bucky had a massive smile planted on his face as he left the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend and cat; he was so proud of himself for finally mastering online shopping - he just ordered a huge cat tree for Alpine. To others it wouldn’t have been important but for him it was an accomplishment he was excited to share with his girl.

With a little bounce in his step, he was about to turn the corner to where the common room was when he comes to a stop.

“-I’m telling you Nat it’s annoying” he smiles at the voice that has soothed him to sleep more times than one “he’s so clingy, always wanting to lay on me, always following me around, trying to kiss me whilst I’m eating! It’s like he always needs to be touching me at every given moment, God he’s so needy” his heart breaks not only at the words but at how frustrated she sounds. He really didn’t mean to be clingy and needy, there was no doubt in his or anyone’s minds that he was in love with her, everyone always mocked about how he was her shadow, but he didn’t care. Being her shadow was his way of showing her that he loves her and that he was always going to be there, that no one was ever going to hurt her. 

Not having the heart to hear the rest he turns around and walk back to their shared room, determination running through his veins he was going to change. He didn’t want to lose her. The last thing he hears is Natasha laughing.

“Y/N he’s a cat! He loves you” Natasha chuckles.

“Yeah but still… it’s annoying. Because the worst part is that he only does it when Bucky isn’t there” Nat tries really hard not to laugh at the pout on the other woman’s face. It doesn’t take long for both burst out laughing.

~~~

Throughout the week Y/n notices something wrong with Bucky, it wasn’t normal for him to be out of bed before her - not anymore at least - he didn’t want to cuddle up with her anymore, the kisses were quick. It was hurting her; she was missing him even though he was close by. It wasn’t just her that noticed Bucky’s strange behaviour.

“What’s going on with you and Mr grumpy pants?” Sam asks as he hands her a fresh cup of tea.

“I don’t know Sammy, he’s been distant this past week and I don’t know what I’ve done”

“Have you guys argued?”

“No” taking careful sips of the hot beverage “the last time we argued was when I took that bullet for him and that was like what three months ago? We only argued for about an hour before we made up.”

“Wait… seriously that was the last time you argued?”

“Yep, we don’t argue about anything. Yes, we have disagreements about everything and anything, but it never leads to us fighting. But we also come to a mutual agreement on whatever we’re disagreeing with.”

“Okay okay” he puts on his concentration face on as she always puts it “have you took any bullets for him recently?” chuckling when he receives a deadpan look.

“No Sam I haven’t taken any bullets for him recently” rolling her eyes as she sets the now empty cup down “I honestly don’t know what I’ve done, I miss him.”

Standing up and placing a kiss to her temple “Go and talk to him, it’s breaking my heart seeing you both sad and mopey.”

“I will, thanks Falc”

Instead of going to find Bucky she grabbed her coat and bag and headed down to the garage, once she was inside her car she drove to the store.

The bed was covered in all different kind of snacks and drinks, her plan was to sit him down and talk then they’ll spend the rest of the night in bed watching movies and filling their faces. Making her way out of the room she went to track down her boyfriend - finding him in the gym.

“Hi bubba, can you finish up here and come with me” instantly not liking how her voice sounds.

“Um okay just give me a minute.”

“Of course.”

“Im done, where we going.?” Bucky’s right hand twitches to reach out to hold hers but all he does is shoves it in his pocket.

“Back to our room. We need to talk Buck”

He was prepared to drop to his knees and beg for her not to break up with him, promises on the tip of his tongue that he’d change and be better. Before he could utter a word, they had arrived at their room. The door was closed softly behind them whilst his head was bowed downwards finding his shoes more interesting. 

“Buck I don’t know what I’ve done wrong but I’m sorry I don-“

“I heard you”

“What?”

“I heard you talking to Nat about me being clingy and needy and annoying and I’m trying baby really I am. I gave you space, Im keeping distant because I love you and I don’t want you to break up with me an-“ 

“Bucky breath! Here sit down, focus on your breathing bubba” Moving him to sit on the sofa that was in their room, she knelt down in front of him going through his breathing exercises.

It took nearly 10 minutes for him to get his breathing under control, leaving him feeling more ashamed as always after he had a panic attack “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he manages to rasp out.

“I’ll tell you what I always tell you when you have panic attacks - don’t apologise. It’s okay bubba I promise, I’ve got you” taking his hands into hers so rubs her thumbs over his flesh and metal knuckles “I wasn’t talking about you that day Buck, I was talking about Alpine. He followed me and Nat into the common room and Nat made a comment, I was talking about how he only wants me when you’re not around. Oh bubba you actually thought I was talking about you?” Taking one of her hands from his she wipes the stray tear that rolls down his cheek as he nods “Bucky I love it when you’re all over me, I love knowing that I’m never alone because your always there. I have never once thought you was clingy not once! I love you Buck and I love the attention you give me and affection you show me. Please bubba understand that”

“I love you too” bringing up her hand in his metal one “I’m sorry for overreacting baby I should of spoken to you”

“Give me a kiss and all is forgiven” she grins cheekily.

He pulls her on to his lap and kisses her, both sighs contentedly as they share their first kiss in a week little pants of air leaves their lips once they detach from one another.

“I brought snacks and drinks so how about me and you get into bed watch movies, eat, cuddle and maybe some other activities?” She says with a suggestive tone with one eyebrow raised.

Bucky chuckles when a squeal interrupts him standing up.

The third film has finished, not like they were watching - to busy doing other activities - they lay tangled with one another. 

“I brought Alpine a new cat tree off the Amazon.”

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[babygirl-riley]

Hii could you do one with ghost seeing his newborn and he came with guest like John, price, gaz for tea and the reader heard her baby start to cry and she goes to breast feed her baby upstairs for privacy and downstairs they all tell ghost how far he’s come in life and how proud they are of him and like they got gifts for the baby. If that’s okay with you!

Tea Time

Ghost brings guests over to meet his newborn baby

A/N: Omg this really warms my heart they would be so happy for him. Especially Price! Like lord watching his masked son have a child of his own 😭 Also sorry about the late story post school has been beating my asssss

Warnings: fluff, talks about baby, pure happiness, husband!simon, dad!simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

It was at first an awkward silence all four of them sitting in a living room. Simon decided to bring his military family over to meet his newborn. Simon wasn’t able to be there when you gave birth. Missed it by two months since the baby was born, due to a mission going sideways. When he called to inform you that he was coming home, you naturally were excited.

While Simon was packing up to get going, Price followed him out. “Once the both of you are settled love to meet the little bugga.”

Simon chuckled. “Of course Cap.”

Simon called you again, it only rung twice before you picked it up. “On your way?” Your voice sounded tired yet perked up at the end.

“Yes ma’am, j’st leavin’,” He paused before clearing his throat. “Price mentioned comin’ and meeting the baby.”

“Okay,” You said calming waiting to see if he would say anything else before softly chuckling. “They coming today?”

Simon tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Didn’ say yes to today, you wantin’ to?”

“I wouldn’t mind, haven’t had company over for a while. Unless you don’t want it?” You said, he could hear the smile in your voice. Both of you didn’t want anyone over at the end of your pregnancy worried about everything and then some. Didn’t want to get you sick in case of something would happen to the baby.

Simon went silent before nodding like you could see him. “I don’t mind.”

Before getting the call ahead for the boys to come, you have Simon time to hold his baby girl. At first he was hesitant looking at the small thing that bundled into the pink blanket. “She won’t break.” You smiled softly, holding a hand to his bicep.

“She is small.” He whispered watching her make faces as she slept.

You lifted your arm and started to guide his, forming his arms to be ready to hold her. You could see the small panic in his eyes as you started to place her. Guiding him how to hold her head. She moved basically looking like she was settling herself into his arms. He went stiff before looking at you as he smiled a bit. “She’s beautiful baby.”

“We did good baby.” You said getting on your tippy toes as he leaned down kissing each other’s lips.

It was a couple of hours before he called Price and the boys to come and meet mini Riley. Without hesitation they all said yes and barreled their way down to the Riley home.

Now here they are, sitting around the living room. Gaz looked around the room noting some pictures of you and him on the wall. Some with his mask some not. Soap tapped his boots on the floor and Price drank the tea you made. Simon waited near the stairs as you started down them. All of them perked up like puppies on a park.

You showed off the baby to the boys. They held her one by one, watching her move around and fall asleep to smiling in her sleep. Price chuckled as she gripped his finger and played with her hand. Gaz held her as everyone talked around about the baby and how many pounds she weighted. Then it was Soap.

“She is beautiful,” Soap said holding her softly, she was laying on his forearms as he held her head with his hands. Soap leaning on his legs as he stared down at her. “Bet she gets it from ya huh lass?”

You chuckled as Simon glared at Soap, you could tell underneath his mask that he was smirking. “Kind of glad she don’ have my nose.” Simon mumbled agreeing with him.

Soap chuckled as he looked back at the baby. That’s when she let out a fuss before she cried. At first Soap was shocked and looked at you and Simon. You looked over at the clock as Simon grabbed her. “Don’t worry Soap you probably just stink,” You joked walking to Simon as you reached for her. “No but I have to go feed her.”

Simon nodded as you turned around. “Want any help?”

“Oh no she has it all handled Si.” You said smirking before winking and left upstairs.

Simon stood there and watched, disappearing. “She is beautiful Simon.” Price said breaking the silence.

Simon shrugged and nodded. “Would never think ya have a family.” Soap said with a teasing tone.

Price glared at him before Gaz chuckled. “Honestly I thought the same.”

Simon looked at both of them. “I didn’t either.”

Price sighed and shook his head. “I knew,” everyone looked at him. “You might seem like a cold hearted lieutenant however you have a kind heart,” Silence roamed through the air, Simon did not expect him to say anything like that. “I’m proud of you son.”

Soap was wide eyed then looked at Simon. “Nah he is right, never seen you so…”

“Don’t push it.” Simon grumbled seeing that glint in his eyes.

Soap put his hands up before looking at him. “For real though sir, you have an amazing family here.”

Gaz shuffled before standing up. “If you need a babysitter pretty sure Lola would love to watch her.”

Simon chuckled before standing up with him. “Have to fight the missus first.”

Gaz chuckled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You really look happy chap, just happy that you are able to find something and someone’s to come home to.”

Simon was shocked all around, he hasn’t heard any of these before from them. At least Soap and Gaz. Price every now and then. He felt proud yet it was odd to feel that way. “Thank you, all of ya.”

Price finished his tea as he stood up and walked to Simon. Gaz heading towards the door, giving a curt nod. Soap followed Gaz and gave a two finger salute. “See ya later sir.” Soap said was he opened the door. “Tell the lasses I said bye!” He hollered out.

“I’ll meet ya in the car yeah?” Price said to Gaz.

Gaz nodded and gave a wave to Simon. “Seriously proud of ya sir.”

Simon stood there for a moment before looking at Price. “You really have come a long way Simon. Ever since you met her it’s like you became lighter.”

Simon looked away towards the upstairs. “Like Gaz said John she is my home to come to.“

“I know she is, just proud of you for where ya at,” Price said as he sighed. “You were so lost Simon until you married her. She changed you for the better and you let yourself do that as well. I just wanted to tell you that I’m truly proud.”

Simon looked at Price and inhaled. “Thank you sir but I’m still terrified.”

Price chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Oh that won’t change, wait till she brings a boy home.”

Simon froze as Price walked towards the door. The poor bloke that would be coming home to Simon, she may never get a boyfriend until he dies. Yeah that would be the case.

[satoruyes]

co-parent bakugou

katsuki bakugou x reader (part two)

   fwb! bakugou who often came by your dorm during college to drop off school work when you missed lectures and loads when you missed him.

fwb! bakugou who came by before bed to fuck you into your pillow and listen to your hushed moans, hushed so your roommates wouldn’t hear. (they did)

fwb! bakugou who’s scared of committing because he “couldn’t see you in his future” and was too focused on his.

fwb! bakugou who’s late night visits became more and more scarce.

fwb! bakugou who months later soft launches his new partner on his story after telling you he’s not ready for a relationship.

fwb! bakugou who stops breathing at the sight of your name popping up on his phone as he cuddles his partner while watching movies, and nearly has a stroke at the “Im pregnant.” text. 

_____

“well are ya sure it’s mine?” he asks, not daring to look away from you. you break eye contact and look outside the coffee shops’ window to focus on anything other than this conversation you’ve been dreading. “are you serious? you should know i’m not exactly one to sleep around,” you say to the man. he nods and his grip on his mug gets tighter, knuckles visibly whiter. “well, are ya keepin’ it,” he asks, “i don’t think  that’d be a bright idea for either of us.” you kind of glare but think over his words. “you know how my parents feel about abortion kats.. i’d be disowned. the second the press found out about it, my family would be done for,” your eyes start to water and a tear threatens to fall, you pause “.. i thought you said you don’t do relationships?”

katsuki stares at you and shakes his head, “those fuckin’ hormones already getting to your brain or somethin?“ he sighs, “you know i can’t do this *nickname*. i’m in a committed relationship with raya, we’re getting engaged next month. on top of that, i can’t be number one with a baby leechin’ of me.” your heart drops, “you’re.. getting engaged? i.. um.. well, congratulations. i’m sorry to burden you with all of this… and i can’t abort it anyway.. i.. i’m too far along.. and i cant do this.” you finish & get up from the table and leave.

________

baby daddy! bakugou who ends up losing contact with you for months after you block him on everything a refuse to meet up per your family’s request.

baby daddy! bakugou who nearly forgets about you years later til kirishima brings you up and shows him your instagram.

baby daddy! bakugou who gets home and stalks you from a burner account, finds out you still talk to everyone from college but him.

baby daddy! bakugou who sees a pretty little ruby-eyed girl down your timeline, her resemblance to him uncanny.

baby daddy! bakugou who pulls some strings and texts your number asking to meet his daughter, hana. 

___________

hana is 2 years old by now, forming choppy sentences and now waddling on her feet. after a week of texting, you finally fold and let him come over to meet his daughter. when you open the door to let him in he nearly finds himself choking on his spit at how beautiful you are. you looked even better than your posts, if that’s possible. you greeted him with a nod and invited him in. he takes his shoes off and head to the living room you led him to. you exchange stale pleasantries and small talk til you decide to go get your baby girl. “her name is ‘hana lei bakugou,’ as much as i wanted her to have my last name.”

you walk over to him and hand her to him, noticing the wedding band resting around his ring finger. you scoff, “wow so you two actually got married?” he nods and analyzes his daughters’ features. “shes so pretty, just like ‘er momma,” he half smiles and look up at you. “so i’ll have her back later tonight, gonna take ‘er home to meet the wife and all of that.” he goes to get off the couch. “woah, you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to come back back after all this time like nothing happened.” he looks frustrated for a second, “you can’t just- … yea yer right, ‘m sorry.’’

you nod, “how about we go up to her room and play?” he agrees and follows you into his daughter’s bedroom while carrying her.

“So.. how long have you two been in the area?” he asks, scanning his daughter's room. “I never really left, just moved closer to the city i guess,” you reply; putting hana down to the floor. She waddles over to katsuki. “hana, baby this is your father,” you look down at the little girl. At first she looks up at you with her glowing beady eyes then she looks over to Katsuki sitting over on a couch. “papa?” she asks and she points her dainty finger at him. you nod and smile. “yes baby, that's your papa.” 

katsuki looks at the little girl and she reaches up for him. “up.” she says, and he obliges. you two talk and rekindle for what seemed to be days. In reality it was just about 4 hours. “*name* it was really nice to see you again, let's go out for dinner sometime. with hana of course.” you lead him downstairs while he says his goodbyes to hana. 

-- 

“I told ya about this years ago raya, you can't be mad about this. What did you expect? for them to disappear?” bakugou yells at his wife. “well i didnt fucking expect you to go out of your way to to reach out either!” she pouts, anger and jealousy laced in her tone. “I have to own up to this responsibility now whether you like it or not, stop fuckin’ cursin’ at me. ‘m already stressed as is; ‘ion need yer bitchin’.” 

“oh so now i'm bitching because you went out and got some slut pregnant.. you're just full of it katsuki.” raya says, glaring at him now. “ya cant get mad at me because I wanna be a father, ‘nd not just leave some kid stranded out here.” 

“it's not just about the kid is it? do you miss the bitch or something? do you miss the sex? did she give you better head than I do?” raya accuses, bakugou sighs and goes to leave the room, “‘nd yea- she did give better head.” as he walks to their shared room he can hear her still yelling in the distance.

katsuki bakugou goes to sleep confused tonight. He wonders why was he such a prick. he wonders why did his heart pound so fast- why were his hands so sweaty when he saw you.

he couldn't do this. he has a wife. hes happily married, regardless of any arguments. his wife was the mayors daughter and promised him various things, she promised him glory. of course he didn't need her but it's definitely more helpful to have more "support." plus you hated him, only putting up with him for the sake of his daughter. no, it wasn't attraction- it was just nervousness. he loved his wife.

katsuki woke up to his wife, raya in his arms. she looked so pretty and peaceful like this. he snapped out of his daze and got out of bed to catch a shower. he couldn't help but find his hand reaching down to take care of himself. usually when he finds himself touching himself; its of thoughts of his wife from the night prior. but today it was you. he felt shameful but he just couldnt help it. he couldn't stop himself from thinking about you. hes only human.    

[ghettogirly]

Hey, hope you're doing fine. Can I request something when Armando has to watch over the reader because she knows something about the cartel , she sees things you should have not seen , wrong place , wrong time for her. Even though they always argue, she knows that he always protects her. She does the same for him.

Kinda relates to a 'pieces of her ' on Netflix 😭 when they were in that hotel room

Him and I - g easy

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇 (𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: Miyah has a past that not even she knows about. Thinking her life was all normal, she is suddenly thrown into a whirlwind when an intruder breaks into her house. Are we prepared for her journey of not only finding herself but the answers to her past?

-> format: story.

-> theme: angst.

-> warning: mentions of violence, use of the n-word, mature language, themes of break-ins.

-> authors note: so i have turned this into a series!! i really want to write the pieces of her plot because i loved that show, but in a different type of way! thank you for requesting this! my update schedule is going to slightly change guys due to me getting more of an intense workload from my sixth form so i hope you all understand! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝💕.

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𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐍.

Trash clinked across the floor as a gust of wind swept it by. Desolate and quiet, only a couple cars were parked in the large space. A dark no

Heels were heard clacking off the floor as a brown skinned girl walked over to her car, clutching her purse with one hand while the other was angled in the direction of her mercedes benz. Opening the car door, she climbed into her seat.

Plopping the chanel bag that wrapped around her arm onto the passenger seat, the woman clicked her tongue while turning on the ignition. Settling into the seat, sighing as she recollected the hectic day that occurred.

“I really need to get home.”

Pressing onto the gas pedal while putting the gear stick into reverse, Miyah pulled out of the car park from her work place onto the highway. Flicking the headlights on, she started to drive down the road. The hum of the tyres mixed with the slow jam of the radio, lowly playing throughout the vehicle. Pink LED lights illuminated the interior of the car contrasting with the midnight black sky, coating the exterior as it hung over the trees and the wildlife surrounding the road.

The small screen of the navigation shone brightly in the woman’s face as she glanced down at it.

“15 minutes.”

Driving down the road, Miyah nodded her head to the slow beat of the rnb song playing through her sound system. Tapping her index finger onto the wheel she drove down the highway, content with her life currently. Life was hectic but she was satisfied.

Pulling into her gated residence, Miyah rolled down her window to enter the code into the pad. Once confirmed, she parked up her car at the front of her door before slipping out, grabbing her purse.

Opening her door, the hallway and living room was automatically irradiated by the modern lights that hung off her ceilings. Cylindrical pillars stood at every sharp corner, contrasting a classic element with the modern theme of her white and black marble interior.

Slipping off her heels, Miyah sighed in relief. “I really need to go to sleep.”

Shaking her head, she ascended up her stairs into her bedroom. A queen sized bed layered with fluffy comforts and duvets were placed in the middle of the woman’s bedroom. The colour scheme being white and grey , matching with the fluffy, white, circular carpet that was under it. Walking over to the bed, she placed her bag by her cabinet before flopping down on the bed.

“Why did i even become a lawyer again?”

That was a good question.

Why did she become a lawyer?

When thinking about society and the world today, you would think that the law reached everyone. Helped victims by putting away those who made their life hell but, we are wrong. Everyday, domestic abuse cases go silent, the justice system not caring enough for those who get abused in the relationships. Mainly women but also men becoming apart of the statistic of abuse victims, which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened. Child abuse cases go unheard until the severity of the abuse ends up in a death, which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened. Even random spree attacks which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened and understood that persons mental health.

I wanted to be the one to change this. To be able to keep law on track with the fast pace of the ever changing world. To be able to stand up for people who looked like me and those who were me.

And also for you mom.

Changing into her silk pyjamas, Miyah sat on her bed cross legged with her ipad on a stand. Parting her honey brown hair into 6 boxes with a rat tail comb, she braided two plaits in each section, ready to go to bed. Slipping her black bonnet on top of the loose braids, wanting to protect her curls from future breakage.

The girl pulled down her light, turning it off before getting underneath the covers. Closing her iPad, she sunk her head into the silk pillows that happily embraced her, closing her eyes.

It was pitch black in Miyah’s room. Not a shred of light peeked through her curtains. Stirring, she sat up. Glancing over at her alarm clock, the red bold numbers stating 3:32am. Sighing, she got out of bed, putting on her fluffy slippers.

Walking down the stairs she flicked the kitchen lights on, changing the settings to dim, not wanting to fully wake herself up. Grabbing a glass, she filled it up with water before taking a sip. Sighing, Miyah popped the now used glass, back into the sink before heading towards the stairs.

Something stopped her.

A rustle was heard from the living room next door. Slowly crawling into the kitchen, Miyah slightly opened the drawer for the utensils before grabbing a sharp knife. Peeking around the counter a black figure appeared before her.

“Who are-“

Wasting no time, the figure quickly punched Miyah causing her to stumble back. Throwing another punch to her chest, the figure then raised their fist, angling it towards a certain direction before throwing another. It was pretty clear they were male. Adrenaline ran through Miyah’s glands which secreted them into her bloodstream, activating her fight or flight.

Dodging the fist that was coming her way, she ducked and kicked the male in his balls before quickly running up the stairs. Loud banging was heard from within the room due to the stomps coming from the woman. just before reaching her bedroom a hand grabbed her ankles, brutally dropping her down on the marble floor.

“Fuck!! Get off me!”

The mystery man then swiftly got on top of Miyah, wrapping his rough hands around her neck before harshly gripping it. Pain and frustration overcoming the poor girl

“Stop..”

Pressing down onto her neck mired the man added more pressure, forcing less and less oxygen to not enter the girls body. Miyah’s muscles started to become frail as less oxygen was reaching the muscles, building more lactic acid causing them to become tired.

Slowly, her life began to slip away.

Her mind flashed to a deserted beach. The blue crystalline waves crashed against each other, slowly overlapping one another. The sky transitioned from a purple to orange ombré as the sun was setting, the orange rays shining onto the brownskin girl that stood there in the middle of the beach. Her curls waved in the wind due to the gentle breeze coming from the west.

A gentle tap was felt on Miyah’s shoulder, causing her turn around.

“It’s not your time.” The figure said before disappearing.

Suddenly, she was back in the present. Still feeling the man strangling her, a surge of strength powered suddenly came through.

Grabbing the nearest plant pot, she cracked it over the intruders head causing him to stumble back in pain. Gasping for air, Miyah panted heavily.

Yet, the man was still not done. Stomping over to her, he attempted to kick Miyah who was on the floor, out of breath. “Nigga, what- the fuck- is your issue?”

Quickly sliding out of the way, Miyah grabbed the man’s leg causing him to fall onto the floor, before grabbing a picture frame off the wall and violently smashing it off the intruders head, knocking the consciousness out of him.

“That’s what you get bitch.”

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[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @thedarkworldofhananerea @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @armandosbabymama @tyneshaaa @dyttomori @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @yeahnohoneybye @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @sarcasticbitchsblog

[luvhughes43]

ice cream? | dad!quinn hughes

luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

request: can you write another one like your uncle jack story? i loveddd it!! maybe jack and luke are babysitting quinn’s daughter. i feel like they’d mac and cheese for dinner and both completely struggle doing it. and when it’s bedtime the toddler has a tantrum and they so gentle with her (but also kinda freaking out and don’t know what to do) and end up giving her ice cream and letting her watch a movie with them and she falls asleep on one of them. and quinn and mom come home like really guys?! you let a three year old tell you what to do 

word count: 1.2k

“What are you doing? you don't put the tinfoil bit in the microwave?!” Jack scolded his younger brother Luke as he yanked open the microwave before it set itself on fire. 

Luke stood dumbfounded, “how else are you supposed to cook it?”

the “it” in question being a mini cup of mac and cheese. Quinn thought it would be the safest dinner option and yet…

“Okay, let me do this you go entertain the baby” Jack shoos Luke away and towards an adorable toddler who smiled gummily up at her uncles. 

Luke scoops the little girl up, who giggles all the way to the couch. Luke plops them both down and reaches for the tv remote. 

“Shit!” Jack swears as he rips the microwave open. “Luke! You put in too much water!” 

Luke clicks the volume up on the tv. “You like paw patrol! Yeah, let's watch paw patrol!” Luke cheers to his niece who continues to giggle at her uncle's antics. 

“Doggy!” the little girl shouts as she points at the screen. Luke nods enthusiastically as he tunes out Jack's grumblings from the kitchen. 

15 minutes later, dinner was served.

Luke picked at his plate, “dude…”

“if you say that this is gross i swear…” Jack cut in. 

Before a small fight could break out, both brothers' attention were brought to the little girl in the high chair. “Yummy!” she smiled, lifting up her little plastic spoon and shovelling more of the questionable mac and cheese into her mouth. 

“ha! She likes it!”

“Jack… she's 2.. She was eating canned mashed peas like a month ago,” Luke replies.

Jack scowls. “It's literally your fault that the mac and cheese-”

“Play now!” their niece once again recaptures their attention as she shows them her empty plate. 

Jack gets up from the table and takes his niece out of her high chair.

After an hour of playing, the brothers get a text. 

hughes bros👨‍👨‍👦

quinn: Put my baby to bed now it's getting late. If she gets a little fussy read her another bedtime story she usually falls asleep after two stories. 

“your daddy says it's bedtime!” Jack coos to the little girl sitting in front of him and she immediately starts pouting. 

She throws the bright red block she's holding and yells, “no!”

“Luke, you wanna put her to bed?” Jack asks as he watches the toddler throw a small tantrum. She was rolling around on the floor now, toys long forgotten. 

“No sleep! No sleep!” she repeated, looking up at her uncles with her infamous puppy dog eyes. 

Luke walks over and picks her up off the floor. “Why don't we go read a story! That's so much fun!” Luke exclaims happily and the little girl in his arms continues to frown. 

“yeah let's read a story!” Jack cheers in an attempt to get the young girl to stop pouting. “I love stories!” 

“No!” she shouts again. 

Luke ignores her shouts, and carries her into her bedroom where she continues to pout. “Uncle Jacks going to pick out a really fun book while I get you ready for bed, okay?” 

“No!” 

After 20 minutes of fighting with the young girl, she was finally all ready for bed. As soon as she was in her crib, she immediately settled down and was happy to hear her story. She insisted on both of her uncles reading to her, and by the time they were done the first story she had already drifted off to sleep.

Jack and Luke sat in the living room, both on their phones as they waited for their brother and his wife to return.

“Wow this has been really easy!” Luke joked.

Jack looked over, rolling his eyes. “You almost burnt down the apartment” 

“Yeah but the baby's asleep now so does it really matter?” 

Jack shakes his head, “i’m not even going to reply to that”

“‘ACK! ‘UKE!” the wails of their niece ring out through the quiet apartment.

Both boys look at each other, and then immediately rush into their niece's bedroom. “What's up?” Jack coos, voice soft as he approaches the little girl with tears streaming down her face.

The little girl continues to cry. She stands up by the edge of the crib and holds her arms out to her uncles. Luke takes the hint and lifts the girl out of her crib and into his arms. 

“No sleep” she whispers against her uncle Luke's chest and both boys stare blankly at each other.

“But you have to go to sleep,” Luke tries, but the girl shakes her head. 

“No!” she cries. 

The cries only get worse, so Jack has the brilliant idea of feeding the girl some ice cream.

“Two year olds can have ice cream right?” he asks as he pulls the large tub out of his older brother's freezer. 

Luke nods, “yeah i'm sure vanilias safe for kids”  he shrugs the shoulder that his niece is not laying against. 

“You want some ice cream?” Jack asks as he holds a baby spoon up with a tiny bit of ice cream. The girl eagerly nods and reaches one hand out for the spoon.

The boys move to the couch, the little girl sat between them with her little bowl of ice cream in her lap. A movie softly plays in the background, lulling the girl to sleep with her hand in her ice cream bowl and head pressed against her uncle jack. 

At the sound of the front door unlocking, both boys sit upright. “Shit! Don't wake her up!” Luke whisper-shouts as he stands up and starts clearing off the coffee table. There was ice cream everywhere, courtesy of the sleeping 2 year old clinging to Jack's side. 

“Take her bowl!” Jack whispers as he tries to lift the baby's hand out of the sticky bowl. 

“You gave my daughter ice cream before bed?” Quinn questions, surveying the messy kitchen and living room. 

Luke, hands full of the incriminating ice cream bowls, shrugs. “She’s teething?” he says, but it comes out more of a question.

“My baby's teething? Are her molars coming through?” your worried voice drifts through the apartment as you step inside. 

“No!”

“Yes!” 

Jack and Luke both speak at the same time. 

“Right… okay i’ll take my baby back now!” Quinn speaks. When he reaches down to lift his daughter up though, he sees her ice cream coated hands. Quinn doesn't have to say anything.

“Right well! This was really nice so…"Jack trails off when Quinn finally has his daughter in his arms. She was asleep, so what did it really matter if she had some ice cream? 

“Yeah! I’ll see you next time!” Luke says, retreating into the guest bedroom. 

“Yeah, what he said! It's been great!” Jack mimics Luke.

“You're cleaning this up tomorrow,” Quinn's voice is fully in dad mode as he looks around the messy room. 

Jack nods enthusiastically before bidding the small family his goodnights. 

“Thank you for babysitting!” you whisper yell, which Jack responds with a quick thumbs up. 

A second later the guest bedroom door is clicked shut and Quinn and you are left standing in your quiet living room. 

“They're never babysitting again” Quinn sighs, looking down at his daughter who was covered in ice cream. 

“No, they're not” you sigh, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to your daughter's forehead. “Letting a 2 year old tell them what to do… you got those boys wrapped around your finger!” you whisper to your little girl.

[llonelygoddess]

Ned Stark wife headcannons ❤️👀

Being Ned Starks wife

A/N: Thank you for the request!! I'm always so excited to get these<3 I also added what I thought would be a cute wedding dress! Feel free to send more requests!

Marrying Ned after Catelyn's death was not easy and you knew this coming into the relationship. Your father was close friends with Ned, so to help stave off unwanted advances from other houses he offered you.

You knew Ned didn't love you, that this was solely a political move to strengthen both your houses, but you refused to let that get to you. This was your life now and you'd do your duties to the best of your ability.

The first few months after the wedding Ned requested that you slept in separate rooms and you respected his decision. It gave you time to settle into the home but left you quite lonely.

You found yourself watching over the younger children. Rickon, being too young to really know his mother, latches onto you quickly as well as Bran. While Bran knew his mother, he confided in you that they never got to spend time with her the way you were able to. This told you all you needed to know to take care of these kids and hopefully make your husband happy. 

In the mornings before breakfast, you made it a habit to greet Ned and wish him well on his daily activities. With Rickon on your hip, you and Bran would spend time reading in the library until the older boys came to train with him. Watching them shoot arrows and spar together was exciting, and more than once you found yourself cheering them on. 

You didn’t see it but soon the boys started competing to see who could get you to cheer for them.

Some days you'd sit in on Sansa and Arya's stitching lessons and honestly you could use the lessons as well. Showing off your horrendous stitches made both of the girls laugh and feel better about their own. Sansa felt a sense of pride whenever you complimented her stitching and once gifted you a beautiful flower bouquet she made.

Arya, of course, felt that once again she was being looked over for her sister. You could easily spot the hurt within her and went out of your way to compliment her on the things she was good at even if they weren't "proper".

One day, she sneaks off to the training area and tries shooting arrows. You discover her and instead of calling her back inside you decide to assist her with the little knowledge you’ve picked up from the boys. The first time she gets a bullseye she runs up to you giving you a tight hug. You both hear clapping in the distance and notice Ned standing off to the side with a brilliant smile on his face. 

That night Ned asks you to his room for the first time since your wedding night. It caught you off guard but you gathered yourself and made your way over. It started off innocent with the both of you laughing and sharing stories about the kids. Then the discussion of your wedding night comes up, and how it was never truly consummated (because he’s a gentleman and didn’t want to pressure you). A glass of wine later and you both find yourselves under the sheets entangled in each other.

From that day forward you started sleeping in his room together. 

The way this man can balance all his responsibilities and still be doting and loving is crazy.

Life with Ned is peaceful. He wakes you up in the morning with a kiss on the cheek, and prefers you to call him Ned in private. It wasn’t often you both had alone time but when you did it was spent reading to each other or talking about the day you had. He loved watching you with the kids, especially the younger ones.

On more than one occasion he’s had to break up a disagreement between the kids only to find out it’s about who can spend more time with you.

He couldn't help but smile at the small piece of happiness he's created with you here.

[absurdthirst]

Property of Dave York {Dave York x F!Nanny!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Voyeurism, video surveillance, masturbation, kidnapping, threats of violence, coercion, dub-con, derogatory language, gun play, spanking, oral sex (male receiving ) rough sex, choking, guilt, forced cuckolding, cream pie, anxiety, break up texts, murder, fingering, pussy slapping, sex toys, anal fingering, anal, double penetration, aftercare, forced imprisonment

Comments: Carol's offer of the York family cabin for a romantic weekend away for you and your boyfriend turns dark and deadly when Dave shows up. Unhappy with how you are being fucked and deciding to take you for himself.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains dark theme of coercion, dub-con due to deadly threats, murder, imprisonment - do not read if this bothers you🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Are you sure?” You ask Carol, eyes wide as she offers to let you use the family cabin for the weekend. 

“Absolutely. I'm heading out of town to see my mom with the girls. Dave will be here and we want to reward you for all of your hard work. You’re so good with the girls and do so much above and beyond. We want to reward you.” Carol offers you a sweet smile. 

You shake your head, “I don’t know what to say.” You admit and Dave smiles, “just say yes.” 

You nod, overwhelmed by how good the Yorks treat you, “th-thank you.” You reply and they both smile. It’s a reward beyond your dreams to get to spend the weekend in the woods with your boyfriend at the York family cabin. Little do you know that Dave hates the idea. 

You were hired about a year ago to be the live-in nanny to the York family. At first, they seemed like any other suburban dream but you began to notice small details that tipped off the fact that maybe Dave isn’t the man he says he is. The blood stained clothes on the floor in the mud room late one night and he told you he cut himself yet that was too much blood for an injury you couldn’t see. Then the random calls which meant Dave would disappear for days on end after. 

The weirdest thing is the man’s internet history. When trying to search the computer for Molly’s schedule, you accidentally came across a page that detailed the internet history of the house and you, being curious, clicked on some of the links. Porn. But not your average vanilla stuff. This was bondage, it was BDSM. It was rough. Fuck, that must be Dave. The time stamp was the middle of the night and you know Carol can’t survive without her sleep. 

You hate to admit it but you touched yourself to thoughts of Dave treating you like that. He’s so sexy, authoritative, and secretive. Maybe that makes him sexier. Well, certainly when compared to Johnny, your sweet boyfriend who won’t even so much as spank you. Still, you can’t get involved in any way. This is your boss and you’d be risking your job and home and a mortifying rejection since you know Dave doesn’t want you like that. No, you’ll enjoy the cabin this weekend with Johnny and maybe you can get off thinking of dirtier things while your boyfriend sweetly goes down on you.

The smile on Dave’s face is a very practiced one. One that doesn’t show the anger, that only flashes for a brief second in his eyes before he blinks it away. Carol hadn’t talked about this with him and he wants to snatch the keys away from you as his wife holds them for you to take. Instead, he smiles. “Just say yes.” He watches as you sputter and take the keys to the cabin he had bought and was normally a weekend getaway from him and the girls. Often when he needed to recuperate from a rough mission or a job had gotten too close. Why the fuck had Carol decided to give his fucking cabin to the nanny for the weekened ot use as a fucking sex room? That dipshit you were dating wouldn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Could he even build a fire? He scoffs to himself and grinds his teeth, furious as he thinks about that fucker touching you. It’s bad enough when you have weekends off and you come home smelling like sex and cheap ass beer like you were at some frat party. Probably had been. “You know how to get there, right?” He asks you, knowing he hasn’t told you where the cabin is although Carol might have. 

You nod, “Carol gave me the coordinates. Johnny is pretty good at navigating so we shouldn’t have a problem. It’s okay if I take him, right?” You ask, biting your lip. Fuck, Dave wants to say no but he knows that won’t help him. Carol can’t get suspicious of his desires otherwise you’ll be gone and he can’t allow that. “Of course you can take Johnny.” Carol promises and you grin. 

“Thank you so much.” 

Carol nods, “don’t think anything of it. It’s all set, right Dave?” 

He swallows down his annoyance, “it’s all set.” He offers you a sickly smile that has your stomach knotting and Carol pats his hand, “excellent.” She winks and you grip the keys, eager to tell your boyfriend about the weekend away.

****

“You girls be good for your mother, and grandma and grandpa, okay?” Dave winks at Alice and reaches out to tug on one of Molly’s pigtails. 

“Daddy!!!” Molly shrieks, batting his hand away as she giggles and he chuckles. 

“I mean it.” He raises his eyebrows at them before moving up to the driver’s side window where Carol is already behind the wheel. “Drive carefully, honey.” He urges, knowing that while he might not love her like he probably should, she is important to him. Plus he wants his girl’s to be safe. While he feels like there is something missing inside him, not able to really connect with his wife, he loves his children. “Call me when you get to your moms.” He leans in and presses his lips to hers quickly before he pulls away. His plans for the weekend have changed and he needs his wife to leave on time, so he had helped her pack up the Mercedes. 

**** 

“Wow. This place is sweet.” Johnny grins as you enter the cabin. He’s carrying your travel bag and you admire the decor of the cabin. It’s simple but rustic and you love it. You love being out in the woods, the sound of nature, and of course, being there with your boyfriend. He’s sweet and kind and everything you should want and this weekend you’re going to try and remind yourself of that. Johnny sets your bags down, reaching for you to pull you close, his hands squeezing your ass. “And the best thing is not having to sneak around. We have the whole weekend to do whatever we want.” Johnny kisses along your neck and you smirk, knowing he’s eager to touch you. Has been since you left the York house.

The rustic charm of the house hides the sophisticated camera system. Hidden discreetly in areas that won’t be noticed by anyone who isn’t a trained operative. Carol had never noticed. Now, Dave watches you, glaring at the screen of his laptop as your boyfriend gropes your ass and slides his hand up to cup your tit as he tries to steer you back towards the sofa. “Asshole.” He hisses, jealous that you let this fucker touch you. His cock twitches, making him reach down to palm himself through his pants as he imagines himself with you on that couch. Showing you what getting fucked should be like. 

You let Johnny lay you down on the sofa and he’s quick to remove your shirt, tossing it down and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits unknowingly to Dave’s gaze until Johnny takes your nipple into his mouth, making you moan. “Fuck. That’s good.” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks but it’s not hard enough, not rough enough.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, reaching up to slide the end from the belt buckle. His cock throbbing in his pants and he’s already decided that he’s going to jerk off, watching you get fucked by this pathetic excuse for a boy. There’s nothing really wrong with Johnny, Dave hates him solely because he wants you. Wants to use you and show you what you really want when you look at him with those searching eyes. Pulling his hard cock out, Dave spits in his hand and starts to smear it over the sensitive head. 

When Johnny slides inside of you, he’s asking if you’re comfortable and you want to roll your eyes. “Fuck.” He hisses in pleasure at how wet and tight you are and you want him to squeeze your throat. You want him to fuck you like it’s your last day on earth. You want him to ruin you but he won’t. You wrap your legs around him, trying to push him deeper. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet.” Johnny groans and you want to be spiteful and tell him you were thinking about Dave being in this cabin, imagining him fucking you, wrecking you.

Dave strokes his cock, hard and fast as he imagines how tight you would be. The squeals he would pull from you would be much better than those damn fake moans you are putting on for him. “You would cry for me.” He grunts, watching you wrap your legs around him. He wonders if Johnny actually buys your moans, if he believes that you are actually enjoying yourself. His cock is slick in his hand, gripping it harshly as he jerks off. 

“Oh my God, I’m cumming!” You cry, throwing your head back as you grip him inside of you, faking yet another orgasm. You moan, glancing up at the ceiling, letting out another fake moan as you wait for Johnny to cum inside of you. He’s grunting, his face buried in your neck, and you whimper, “cum for me baby.” You try to egg him on, squeezing his cock in your walls and you moan his name. 

“Gonna cum. Gonna cum.” He groans, thrusting into you a half dozen more times before he cums.

Dave grunts, holding his breath as he starts to cum. Ropes of his sticky seed coating the towel he had covering the steering wheel of his car as he cums. Stroking himself through the high and watching you as you lay under Johnny limply, helping him ride out his orgasm while very obviously not experiencing your own. He wouldn’t let that happen. Milking the last drops of his release before he sits back in the seat and pants, making up his mind on what he will do next. 

You are cooking when you hear the noise. Confused by the clicking sound and you turn the stove off and on again, wondering if that’s the noise. “Johnny?” You call out, wondering where he is. He isn’t usually this quiet. He’s usually annoying you by now, wanting to incessantly talk about his video games or the latest thing he read on Reddit. You turn off the stove, the pasta sauce is cooked anyway, and you will probably find Johnny lounging on the sofa. “Johnny, baby. I-” You scream, finding Johnny tied to a chair and a gag in his mouth.

A hand comes around your mouth, covering it and hot breath washes over your ear. “Ah ah ah, no screaming baby, not yet.” Dave hums in your ear, grinning at the furious expression on your boyfriend’s face. “Your boyfriend didn’t even lock the fucking door. Anyone could have wandered into the cabin.”

Your eyes widen at hearing Dave’s voice in your ear. Your heart pounds in both fear and arousal. His body is pressed against yours and you shiver against him. Your hands are gripping his wrist but it’s no use, he’s stronger than you. “Be calm and nothing bad happens.” He coos and lowers his hand from your mouth. 

“Please. Let - let us go. We will leave. I- I am sorry Mr. York.” You promise, aware to an extent of what he is capable of.

“What are you sorry for?” Dave asks you, “fucking on my couch? Or faking your orgasm.” He shakes his head. “It was pathetic, watching you moan like a whore when we both know you were counting down the seconds until he came and rolled off you.” He tuts and watches Johnny huff and tug against the ropes tying him to the chair in amusement. “So I decided I’m going to show him how you should be fucked.”

Your eyes widen even more and you step away from Dave. “Wha-what? I- Dave. I- don’t understand.” You shake your head and step towards Johnny. “I- I swear to you baby I had - I don’t know what he’s talking about.” You try to assure your boyfriend who is tied up and Dave chuckles, reaching for your wrists to grip them in his. 

“Don’t lie, baby. That’s not nice. You gotta tell him the truth. He doesn’t make you scream. He doesn’t make you writhe. I’ve seen it. I know it. You don’t soak his cock with your cum.” Dave declares and your cunt clenches at the deep words, the truth you’ve been too scared to say. Johnny laughs around the gag again and you wonder how the hell he’s so oblivious. 

“He’s not wrong.” You confess in a whisper.

Dave smirks and looks over at Johnny smugly. “Strip off your clothes.” Dave orders, squeezing your wrists before letting go. “First, I’m going to punish you for letting this boy touch you. You could have just asked and I would have bent you over my desk every night after Carol and the girls were asleep. Or maybe the washing machine in the basement. That way you don’t wake them up with your squealing.” He chuckles as he steps back and reaches for the hem of his shirt. “You cleaned his cum out of your cunt, didn’t you?”

You nod, knowing this is so wrong. It’s so wrong. You can’t fuck Dave in front of your boyfriend. “I- I showered.” You confess and swallow harshly at the sight of Dave shirtless, several scars litter his skin from his past and it attracts you to him even more. 

“I told you to strip.” Dave orders and you shake your head, “I can’t do it.” You choke, knowing this is wrong. Dave shakes his head, reaching into the back of his pants to pull out a gun. 

“If you don’t strip, I’m gonna spread your boyfriend’s brains over the carpet and no one will ever find him.” Your eyes widen, looking at Johnny’s frantic, scared look, and you know Dave doesn’t fuck around. You reach for your shirt, starting to strip off with shaking hands.

Dave watches as your plain bra is revealed, smirking when you reach behind you and shakily unclasp it. “Those are nice tits.” He hums. “Your boyfriend should have sucked on them more. Bitten them and pulled on them.” His cock twitches in his pants and grunts, “I will. Maybe I’ll get some clamps out for them. Make them really sore.”

You whimper at his words, avoiding the glare from your boyfriend who is shaking his head. He never sucks on your tits, always gets right to fucking you. Sometimes he will go down on you but it’s too sweet. It doesn’t make you gasp and writhe. You toss your bra down and hook your fingers in your leggings, pushing them down and kicking them aside so you are left in your panties. 

“Ah ah ah. All of it.” Dave tuts as he pulls his belt through the loops. You look at Johnny as you push your panties down, the gun is still in Dave’s hand so you kick the underwear aside to stand bare before Dave.

“You don’t deserve her.” Dave turns his comment towards Johnny. Shaking his head in disappointment. “She shouldn’t be able to walk, let alone make dinner after you fuck her.” He slaps the belt against his palm and smirks. “Shouldn’t be able to move.” He flicks open the button of his pants and motions to the couch. “Bend over. I’m going to spank you for fucking on my couch.”

You shake your head, glancing over at Johnny and Dave tuts, pointing the gun at the younger man. “Do you want me to blow his brains out?” You shake your head frantically and move over to the sofa, kneeling on it as you shiver in anticipation for what Dave is going to do to you, knowing it’s so wrong to already be turned on.

You shake your head, “please Dave.” You beg and he smacks your ass again. 

“Call me sir.” He demands and you nod, “sir.” He hums in delight and rubs your ass, making you arch your back. 

“Fuck. I need more.” You tell him, finally letting your desires escape, the ones you’ve concealed for so long.

He pauses for a second, grinning in triumph. “I knew you were perfect.” He groans, pulling his hand back so he can whip your ass with the belt, “you need me. Not some pussy.” He hisses, striking your ass every other work in quick succession.

You cry out. arching your back at the pain, but fuck if your cunt doesn't clench at the sensation. "Oh shit." You pant, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your ass. You inhale deeply. ignoring the pained look on Johnny's face as he helplessly watches.

“You like it, don’t you?” Dave asks as he draws back for another slap of the belt against your ass. “Don’t lie.”

“I love it.” You confess, unable to lie to him. He’s tearing you apart and you are unraveling for him, telling him your deepest darkest secrets. You cry out when he hits you again with the belt, your skin is on fire and you pant, trying to catch your breath.

Dave groans, smirking as he flicks the belt against your ass again. “Knew you would love it.” He hisses, his cock twitching in his pants. “You’re fucking dirty, my little whore.”

You collapse forward onto your elbows, ass aching. And you struggle to breathe, knowing it’s true. You’ve always been his. “Yes, I- I- fuck. I’m your dirty little whore.” You whimper, closing your eyes to ignore the hurt look on Johnny’s face, concealed by the gag.

Dave chuckles and drops his hand, reaching out and caressing the welts that are on your ass. “Get on your knees.” He orders you rightly, “I want you to suck my cock. Show you me how much you regret him touching you.”

It’s getting impossible to deny him, the guilt pushed aside by arousal as you shift onto your knees and hiss at the sting when your thighs press against your ass. You look up at Dave as he fumbles to pull his cock out, gun still in one hand, and when he manages to get his hard length out, your eyes widen. Fuck, he’s huge. Your mouth falls open in shock and he grips his length, playfully swiping the head along your lips until you take him into your mouth.

Dave groans as you take him deep, rolling his hips forward. “Fuck.” He hisses, watching as your lips stretch around his cock. He loves it, your eyes starting to water slightly as he pushes himself deeper.

You choke but he doesn’t pull back, continuing to push his cock down your throat, and he grabs the back of your head to stop you pulling off of him. “Take it all.” He demands and you gag but inhale deeply through your nose, concentrating on taking all of him.

You swallow and struggle but you manage to press your nose against the curls above his cock. Making him groan happily as he holds your head there for a long moment before he pulls back. Wanting to fuck your throat, use you for his pleasure, although he’s not filling your mouth with his seed. No. He’s saving that for your pussy. Wanting to replace your loser boyfriend’s seed with his and watch it drip from your folds.

You choke on your breath when Dave pulls his cock back, barely able to catch it as he pushes deep down your throat again. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” He hisses and you are dripping onto the floor as you watch him with watery eyes, loving the way he clenches his jaw. The gun is still in his hand. He looks deadly and that turns you on more than anything Johnny has ever done.

He can tell this excites you. The way that you lean into his thrusts into your mouth and the way that your thighs spread tell him how much you love this. In a few minutes he will be able to see your cunt drooling into the floor, your arousal leaking out of you and dripping down like the little slut that he knows you are.

You whimper around him, saliva dripping down your chin, and when he hisses your name, you slide your hands up to caress his thighs. He allows it, watching you with those dark eyes you’ve dreamed of far too often and you whine when he pulls his cock from your mouth after several moments.

“Get up and bend over the couch.” Dave growls, slapping his cock on the side of your cheek. “Want to cum inside you. after you’ve screamed my name so much that your throat is raw.”

You scramble onto the sofa, desperate to feel him inside of you, to get fucked the way you desperately want to get fucked. You look over at Johnny who has tears in his eyes and you mouth “I’m sorry.” It’s useless but you still want him to know how sorry you are. You’re an eager whore for Dave but he didn’t deserve to get caught in the mess.

Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and kneels behind you. The barrel of the gun slides up your drenched slit and he chuckles when you stiffen. “I could fuck you with this gun. Click the safety off and shove the barrel in your cunt,” he coos, loving how you whimper. “But I’d rather feel you around me first.” He pulls the barrel back and presses it against your puckered hole. “Maybe next time.” He guides himself to your cunt with his other hand and only pulls the gun completely away when he snaps his hips forward and fills you up.

Your gasp echoes in the cabin, shocked at the abrupt way he fills you, stretching you out, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Equal parts painful and pleasurable. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. “Oh fuck.” You choke, unable to breath as he doesn’t give you a chance to adjust around him before he’s pulling out to set a harsh pace, pounding into you like it’s the last thing he will ever do.

Dave hisses at how tight you get, pressing his hand on your lower back when you arch it up. “Fuck, that’s it. God, you love this don’t you?” He chuckles and glances over at where Johnny is sobbing in the chair. “This is what you should have done. You should feel how fucking tight she gets every time I rock into her.” He smirks. “But you won’t, because you can’t fuck her like I can.” He slaps your ass and thrusts harder into you, the slapping of his hips against your ass filling the cabin.

You cry out, his words shouldn’t turn you on but they do. It’s true. Johnny has never fucked you like this. It’s animalistic and you’re fucking breathless, panting as he slams his hips against yours over and over again, gun still in hand as he runs the barrel along your back.

“That’s it, taking it like the little slut you are.” Dave growls, enjoying the way you clench down around him. “My slut. Your cunt needed a real cock inside it. A man who isn’t afraid to hurt you, wants to hurt you.” He groans when you squeal and concentrates on that angle as he plows into you.

“Fuck! Fuck!” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes deep inside of you, making you fall forward onto your elbows as you can’t remain upright on your hands anymore. “Yes. You. Needed you.” You know it’s wrong but you’re lost in the haze of lust and you can’t see Johnny’s heartbroken look as you wantonly moan for Dave.

Dave growls, loving how you just admitted that in front of your pathetic boyfriend. “You look so good.” He pants out, “split open on my cock. Be a good girl and cum and then I’m really going to make you squeal.”

You can’t hold back, even if you tried, you cry out when he smacks your ass again and you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him. You bite your lip, trying to smother your moan because you know Johnny is still watching you.

Dave growls, pissed that you would try to muffle your moans, and he reaches back to grab your shoulder, pulling you back against his chest. “Don’t you fucking bite your lip.” He huffs. “Or I’ll shoot your boyfriend and the last thing he will ever see is you cumming on my cock,”

You hate that his words make you clamp down even more on his cock. He’s so commanding, it makes you soak him, and he grabs your jaw, forcing you to release your lip. “I’m sorry.” You gasp, to both Dave and Johnny. The fact that you are getting fucked by another man in front of your sweet boyfriend has your heart breaking but your body is aching for Dave.

Dave huffs. Sliding his gun hand down as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the barrel nudging your clit and he smirks when you gasp and your body reacts. “No you aren’t. You love this. You wanted my cock for so long.” He tells you. “You don’t think I didn’t know you searched my history? Saw what I was into? What I imagined doing to you?”

You would be mortified that he knew you’d seen the videos but he’s making your fantasies come true right now and you can’t stop yourself from enjoying the way he fucks up into you, the cold barrel of the gun nudging your clit enough to make you moan again. “I- fuck - it was so filthy. The - the choking. The spanking. I- I want that so much.” You admit, knowing Johnny wasn’t capable of giving that to you.

“You’re gonna get it.” He promises, feeling your cunt start to relax and he pulls out of you to turn you on your back. Throwing your legs back up into his shoulders, Dave wastes no time slamming back into you to start pounding you into the couch like he imagined when he was watching Johnny fucking you, folding you over to make sure he can plunge deep.

“Shit. Oh shit.” You squeal, he’s so deep inside of you. You feel like he’s in your guts. “Fuck baby. Oh fuck.” You sob, sounding authentic, not faking it like you did with Johnny. “Oh my God.” You whine, cupping your tits as he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth.

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so slutty.” Dave hisses, loving the way your cunt just floods his cock with your juices, every time he thrusts into you more coats him. It’s dripping down his thighs and his balls. Reaching up, he slaps your cheek lightly, not enough to hurt you. “My whore.” He growls, grabbing your throat and squeezing like he had imagined so many times. He could never do this to Carol, she didn’t like anything but basic lovemaking, but you are different. You will give him what he needs.

You grip his forearm as he fucks into you, making you moan and writhe. He grips your neck a little tighter and it cuts off some of your air, making you choke but your cunt squeezes his cock. You love this. It’s filthy and everything you’ve ever wanted.

“You love this.” He coos mocking, grinning over at where your boyfriend has his eyes closed. “Open your fucking eyes.” He orders, pointing the gun back at Johnny and his pace falters slightly. “Watch her get fucked. Every second of my cock inside you, you watch. Knowing you can’t give her this.”

You gasp, hating that you’re so turned on by his authority, and you whimper when he hits something incredible inside of you. Johnny opens his eyes, the look in them is heartbroken and it kills you to know that it’s over between you. He’d never want you now and you don’t know if you would want him after experiencing Dave. “Shit. Shit. I’m gonna cum.” You squeal, feeling how close you are.

Gritting his teeth, your squeal just makes him rock into you harder. Wanting to see how hard you cum, Dave holds the gun up to your head and pulls the trigger.

Fuck, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. But you cum when he pulls the trigger. The way your life flashes before your eyes as you wonder if he’s just killed you only to hear the click of the trigger and nothing else. It’s the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to you and you gush, soaking him with your cum as you sob his name.

Dave groans, feeling your cum soak him. Making him hiss, flexing his finger and dropping the gun as he lunges forward. Folding you over as he presses his lips to yours and buries his cock deep as he can get it, coating your walls in hot ropes of his seed.

You pant against his mouth, hands wrapping around his shoulders, and you pull him even closer, “Dave. Dave. Dave.” You whine into his mouth, his cock twitching inside of you and he pushes his cum out of you with each rock of his hips.

He practically grins against your lips in satisfaction. Feeling you pull him closer is his personal triumph, getting you to admit that you need what he gives you. Riding out his orgasm before he pulls back to see your body just sag into the couch as he admires his cum starting to well up in your abused pussy.

You open your eyes, looking up at Dave as he shifts off of you, leaning back to admire his cum after pulling out of your cunt. “That’s how you’re supposed to fuck her. That’s how she should look. Wrecked. Ruined.” Dave tells Johnny who is crying, blinking to stop himself from closing his eyes, fearful of Dave despite the gun being set aside.

Dave stands, starting to pull his clothes back on and picks up his gun. “You drove up here, so I’m going to take Johnny down to the bus station.” He tells you. “Safe to say he won’t be staying.”

You are too dazed to really think about it. You nod, knowing you will have to call Johnny and break up formally but you doubt he will ever talk to you again. "I'm sorry Johnny." You whisper, watching Dave untie him from the chair but not ungag your boyfriend who looks equal parts disgusted and scared. You know Dave will send him on his way and then you have no clue what will happen next. You can only hope that he fucks you again.

“Stay here.” Dave shoves Johnny towards the door but doesn’t give him a chance to stop and look at you. Opening the door and pushing him outside before locking it behind him. “Don’t worry.” Dave chuckles quietly as the other man starts to struggle against the rope around his hands. “I won’t leave her alone too long.”

You sigh, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. The guilt is creeping up on you but the ache in your body pushes it aside. You’ve never been so satisfied and you’re eager for Dave to return, wondering what the next steps are. Part of you worries if he will kill you. You know he’s capable of it. Part of you wonders if he will simply leave you out here to make your way home.

Dave drives Johnny five miles away from the cabin, turning down an old dirt road that leads to an abandoned property. “You don’t have to worry.” Dave chuckles as he parks the car. “Everything will be fine.” He gets out and rounds the car, pulling an increasingly frantic Johnny out. “Shut up.” He hisses, pushing him up against the car and searching for his phone. He smirks when he pulls it out of his left pocket. “You are going to break up with her. Tell her that you never want to see her again.” He chuckles and puts the now loaded gun up to his temple and urges him away from the car. “Let me show you where I’m going to dump your body.” He taunts. “There’s a very nice, dry well. Perfect for you to rot in.”

Johnny cries, sobbing as Dave pushes him towards the well and he knows he has one chance to fight. He spins around, trying to knock the gun from Dave’s hand and he succeeds, deciding to run. He sprints, his hands still bound, and he can barely breathe with the gag in his mouth. “Fucker.” Dave hisses, scrambling to pick up the gun to run after the younger man. When he catches up, he aims and shoots him in the head, watching the body fall to the ground. “Had to make it messy, huh?” Dave huffs as he drags his body to the well. No one would find Johnny.

After he’s unlocked Johnny’s phone with the Face ID, he shoves the body into the well and smirks as he flips through your texts. Frowning slightly when he sees the exchange where he had been trying to convince you to leave your job with the girls, wanting you to move in with him. “Asshole.” He hisses, angrily typing out the breakup message to you, signaling the end of your relationship permanently. After he sends the message, he blocks your number and shuts the phone down, throwing it into the well, along with his body and hums to himself as he walks back to his car. Now he just needs to deal with you.

You stumble from the bathroom, having peed and cleaned up, when you hear your phone ding. Picking it up, you frown when you see the message from Johnny and open it. 

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Knowing you’ve been his whore and let him fuck you shows what kind of person you are. You are disgusting and I never want to see you again. I hope he satisfies your slutty needs and he’s gonna break your heart. Good luck. 

The message makes you tear up, not able to refute his claims that Dave will break your heart. You know that. He’s probably on his way back now to do just that. You pull on your shirt and panties and sit on the sofa, typing a message back. 

I’m so sorry, Johnny. I do love you. He just gave me what I needed. Can we please talk? I don’t want to end things like this. You hit send and the message never says delivered. He’s blocked you. That makes you cry, mourning the safe, yet boring relationship you had with Johnny.

Pulling back up to the cabin, Dave is happy to see your car still there. Scoffing to himself because Johnny had been happy to let you whisk him away rather than him doing it to you. Knowing it’s slightly sexist, but he doesn’t give a shit. You need a man to take care of you, and Dave is going to be that man. “I’m back.” He announces, walking back into the main room and frowning when he sees you crying. “What’s wrong?”

You sniff, wiping your eyes when you see Dave. “Johnny broke up with me.” You gesture to your phone and Dave wants to roll his eyes. 

“And that’s a bad thing?” He asks and you bite your lip. 

“I- I don’t know. I feel guilty. I- I fucked you in front of my boyfriend and now he’s - oh God. Carol. And the girls. I- shit.” You start to panic, realizing how wrong this all is.

“Don’t.” Dave shakes his head, sitting down and reaching out for you. He doesn’t care about what you are feeling but he has to pretend like he does. “Fuck that loser, or- don’t fuck him. He couldn’t make you cum. And Carol isn’t going to find out about this.”

“How do you know? I - I can’t look her in the eyes when we go back home. She- she’s gonna know. I can feel it. Oh God. This was so wrong. You shouldn’t have done this. You were supposed to be at home and now I- fuck.” You cling to him, soaking his shirt with your tears.

“Hush.” Dave insists, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. Some people just can’t have a poker face and you are one of them. Not that it matters. His hand slides down into your panties and he pinches your clit. “Don’t think about it.” He growls. “Think about what I’m going to do to you right now. In my bed.”

You choke on your sob, his fingers rubbing your clit has you whimpering. The alternations between pinching and rubbing make you moan and your tears run down your cheeks but you stop sobbing. “Fuck. Dave.” You whine, turning your head to kiss his neck.

“That’s it, concentrate on how much you want it.” He groans, his flaccid cock twitching. He always has wanted to fuck someone after he’s killed and he’s going to get to, the gunpowder still fresh on his skin. “You need it. You need what I’m going to do to you.” He bites down roughly on your shoulder, sure that his teeth will leave impressions through your shirt.

"I do. I really do." You gasp, grinding down onto his fingers. He smells like smoke, something you can't put your finger on, but you love it. It smells like Dave. "More. Need more." You whine and cry out when he slaps your cunt with his palm. 

"Patience." He demands and you whimper, "please Dave."

Dave smirks, enjoying how eager you are for him. He pushes a finger deep inside your cunt and curls it up. “When I am here, you are to wear nothing.” He orders harshly, pumping his finger before adding another. “You will be ready to take my cock in whatever hole I want to fuck.”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready. I’m yours. Have been yours. Just - I need more.” You beg, lost in the pleasure to really take note of his words. You reach out to squeeze his cock through his pants, wanting more of him.

Dave growls, rocking his hips up, “take your fucking shirt off before I cut it off.” He demands, wanting to bite and suck on your tits. Eager to leave his teeth marks on your skin. To make you feel him when he leaves tonight. He pushes his fingers deep and rough. “Now.”

You scramble to follow his order, pulling the shirt over your head to expose your tits to his hungry gaze. He surges down to bite down on your nipple, making you cry out in both pleasure and pain. His fingers curl deep inside of you and you’re so close. He unravels you impossibly fast until finally, you clamp down on his digits, his teeth buried in your breast.

Dave groans in delight, feeling his teeth break the skin and the coppery tang of your blood floods his taste buds. Not enough to really do damage but from the way you clench around him, you love it.

You pant as he slows his fingers, letting you enjoy your orgasm and your eyes are still closed when he tells you to look at him. “You’re mine now.” 

You nod, “I’m yours. I- I always have been.” You tell him truthfully.

“Good.” Dave pulls his fingers out of your cunt and shoves them into your mouth, nearly gagging you. “Now, your going to go into the bedroom and spread yourself on my bed, I need to get the toy you will have in your cunt while I fuck your ass.”

You shouldn’t shake with anticipation but you’ve never done anal before. None of your boyfriends were interested in the prep work and you wonder if Dave is the same. If he’s gonna just try to stick it in. You stand on shaky legs and make your way to the bed, kneeling on it and spreading your knees to display your cunt and puckered hole.

When he had come into the cabin, he had dropped a duffel bag near the door. All the supplies he needs inside, he unzips it, removing a toy, a bottle of lube and the handcuffs. The collar and chain are left in the bottom, along with the padlocks he had brought to secure the cabin. Taking them into the bedroom, he grunts in satisfaction when he sees you kneeling. “Has anyone every fucked your ass?”

You shake your head. “No. No one has.” You admit, hissing when he smacks your ass over the welts that are still sensitive from his rough treatment earlier. “You can. I want you to. Just - just be gentle.” You plead, knowing he won’t but maybe he will consider it.

He snorts, pulling your hands behind your back and slapping the cuffs on them. “Depends on how good you are for me.” He won’t be too rough, he wants you to anticipate him fucking you rather than trying to shy away. Leaning over and grinning, Dave spits on your puckered hold and reaches out to massage it into your skin.

"Shit." You hiss at the new sensation. No one has done this to you and you already fucking love it. "Fuck Dave." You pant when he pushes his finger a little deeper inside of you.  "I'll be good." You promise, arching your back and your abused cunt clenches around nothing.

“I know you will.” Dave coos, pulling his finger out and coating it with lube so he can push it back inside you. “You know what I’m capable of. What I could do to you.” He chuckles when your tight hole clenches around his digits. “You like that I’m a killer.”

You can’t deny it. It turns you on to know what he’s capable of. “Oh fuck baby. Yes. Yes I do.” You confess, “I love it. I want you to be the one to fuck my ass.” You tell him breathlessly and you gasp when he adds another finger to stretch you out.

The sounds are slick and you aren’t pulling away as he starts to pump and scissor two fingers inside your ass. Making him groan at the sight of your clenching cunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are nice and filled up.” He grins, picking up the dildo he had formed from his own cock using one of those kits. “My cock will be the last one you have inside you. Even a toy.”

You hear him squirt lube onto the dildo and you gasp when you feel the silicone press against your cunt. You moan when he starts to push the toy inside of you. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, trying to relax around the girth and you realize that the toy is as thick as Dave.

He chuckles, admiring the way your lips stretch around the toy. “You look good like this, even better when my cock is in your ass.” He taunts.

You pant as he works the toy in and out of you, his fingers scissoring your ass open and you collapse forward, resting your cheek on the sheets, your fingers flexing in the handcuffs. “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

He chuckles again and pulls his fingers out of your ass. “You’re ready to be full, huh?” He slaps your ass, leaving the toy inside your cunt as he slathers his cock in lube. He wants it to be slick, for himself and for you taking his cock in your ass for the first time. 

“Yes.” You whimper, making him smirk as he slaps your ass and shuffles closer.

You pant as he presses the head of his cock against your puckered hole and you hold your breath as he starts to push inside of you. It hurts, but you can handle it. His hand caresses your back, “breathe.” He orders and you exhale shakily, inhaling deeply on the next breath. He’s so thick it stings but you want this. You try to relax so you can take as much of him as possible.

Unlike the first time he pushed inside your cunt, Dave takes his time. Works himself an inch at a time. Aware that this is new, plus you still have the toy filling up the other hole on the other side of the thin skin. He can feel the ridges in the silicone and he groans as he rocks into you. “Fuck- fuck you’re going to be so good for me? Taking this cock and a toy aren’t you? You’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

You nod, “yes. Whatever you want. I love - I love it.” You tell him, groaning when he starts to move inside of you. “Yes. Oh yes baby.” You pant when he starts to move faster and he’s gripping the toy, working that in and out too. It’s more than you’ve ever felt and you are already on the edge.

“Fuck, fuck you’re so-“ Dave groans, gritting his teeth and biting off his words when you spasm around him, close to cumming already. “Shiiiit.” He hisses, rocking his hips faster, slapping them against your ass as he works up to a frantic pace.

You squeal when he picks up the pace, pushing into you over and over again. “Yes. Yes! Keep - keep going. Keep going. I - fuck. You’re gonna make me - Dave. Oh Dave!” You clamp down on the toy, squeezing it inside of your walls and you squeeze Dave, shaking as you sob into the sheets at the intensity of your orgasm.

“God, you’re such a perfect little slut.” Dave groans, slowing down and rocking his hips a lot slower than before. He wants you exhausted by the time he is done with you. He needs you to sleep while he closes up the house. “That’s good baby, fuck, you’re so tight.” He praises, caressing your spine. “Want you to cum again. You’re gonna come for me again.”

You recover against the bedsheets, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your spine, until he starts to fuck you again. This time, he’s slower. Not as rushed as he rocks his hips, and you try to grind back onto him, arms aching from the handcuffs but you daren’t ask him to remove them.

Looking down, he watches his cock move inside you. Aware that he is recording this very moment on the camera system to keep and watch back whenever he wants. “Gonna fuck you every week.” He groans, twitching inside you. “First you’re going to suck my cock. Kneel down and take my cock down your throat while I finish up work.” He tells you, like he’s explaining how things will go. Because he is. “Then I’m going to fuck your cunt full.”

"Oh God." His words make you burn and you want that, you want him. Every fucking day. "Yes. Yes. My pussy is yours, Dave. I belong to you." You promise, tears stinging in your eyes as your wildest dreams come true. "I need you. I need this."

“You are mine.” He groans, rocking his hips faster and he reaches around you to slap your clit and rub it harshly. “Forever. You’re mine. Mine. You’re going to give me more kids.”

You wonder if he’s just babbling or if he means it. It’s hard to not give into the fantasy. You want him to knock you up, claim you in every way. But you know that if you were lucid, you would be terrified to get knocked up by a married man. “Yes. Yes. Gonna have your babies. As many as you want.”

He snarls, closing his eyes and gripping your hips harshly as he starts fucking into you harshly again. Rubbing your clit in a desperate effort for you to cum again. His control slipping at your acceptance of what he has planned for you. “Yes, fuck, yes, cum for me.”

You can't deny him, clamping down on the toy that is still inside of you, while his cock pushes deep and his fingers play with your clit. "Oh my - fuck!" You scream, almost blacking out from the pleasure. This is what you've wanted, what you've craved since you started working for the Yorks. Now you've got it, your entire body is on fire.

He feels your body give out, collapsing against the bed and flattening out so he just follows you. Still fucking into your ass like a man possessed and his hand trapped between you and the bed, rubbing your clit. He growls out your name, burying his cock deep and filling you with another load of his cum, pulsing deep inside the other hole he had claimed.

You can't open your eyes, you can't move. Knowing he's cum inside of you again, and the way he growled your name, it's more than you can bear. "Fuck. I- I love you. I love you. I love you." You sob, knowing he won't reply but you want him to know.

He doesn’t love you. He can’t. Not when he has the girls and Carol and all the shit that he does. But he does want you. You’re his. He rides out his high and starts to slowly ease out of you once he’s done.

You sigh when he pulls out of you, slowly removing the toy too and you feel so empty. His cum drips out of you, and you want him to take the handcuffs off and cuddle you but he won’t. He will probably uncuff you and then send you on your way. “Thank you.” You murmur, knowing how good this was and you know you’ll need him again soon.

Dave caresses your ass for a moment before he moves towards the bathroom. He needs to clean you up. “I’ll uncuff you in just a second.” He promises, grabbing the toy and bringing it with him.

You watch him come back in with the rag, hissing as he cleans up your abused holes, and you sigh when he unlocks the  cuffs, rubbing your wrists. “Did you enjoy it?” You ask him softly, wanting him to have loved being inside of you.

“Obsessed.” Dave answers with an honest smirk. He knows that you are going to want reassurance and intimacy so he motions for you to get under the covers and pulls them back to get into the bed with you. “I’ll be thinking about it when I’m not inside you.”

Your eyes widen as he slides into bed beside you and you are surprised when he wraps his arms around you. You smile, shifting back to snuggle into him, breathing him in. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring but you have him tonight. He strokes along your stomach and you are lulled into sleep, exhausted from the sex and the events of the day.

He waits until you are softly snoring, slipping out of the bed and picking up your phone to type out another text message, one that would be sent to his phone. Smirking to himself as he hits send, removes your SIM card and erases it. He’s had your password for a long time and now he’s used it. Redressing and stepping out with the bag and padlocks to start shuttering the cabin windows. With you inside.

****

You blink as you wake up, confused by your surroundings until you remember that Dave had fallen asleep beside you. You sigh and turn over in bed, frowning when you feel the cold sheets beside you. He’s gone. You knew he would leave but a small part of you hoped he would stay. You get out of the bed, shrugging on your robe that you’d brought with you, and you frown when you see the cabin is in darkness. You walk over to the window to open the curtains and you gasp when you find it shut up. Starting to panic, you go through each window, finding each one boarded up, and you rush over to the front door. Screaming when you find it locked, you tug on the handle with no use. You’re locked in. “Dave! Dave! Dave!” You shout, praying he’s still here and this is some kind of joke. You rush around the cabin but he’s nowhere to be found. “Oh my God.” You panic, chest heaving as you come to realize he’s locked you in.

Watching the screen, Dave sees you panicking. He picks up his cell phone to dial the cabin. He’s set it up so that only he can dial in, there are no outgoing calls to be made. He watches you jump when the phone peels and you rush over to it. “Dave! What- what is going on? What - why are you doing this?” You cry, making him exhale slowly, keeping his patience for now. 

“You said you’re mine.” He reminds you quietly. “You didn’t want Carol to find out. So this is perfect. You will stay here, I’ll be up to see you every couple of days and bring you supplies.” He rasps into the phone. “I can see you on the cameras and I’ll call you once a day. Tell me if you need me to bring you anything. And when I come, you can have me just like you said you wanted.”

Your hands shake as you look around the cabin, trying to spot the cameras and you think you see one in the corner. “Please don’t do this. I- I wouldn’t tell Carol. It would be our little secret. I don’t - please Dave. I can be a good girl. I won’t tell anyone. Just - just come and let me out. Please. I - fucking let me out of here!” You shout down the phone, losing your cool as you start to have a panic attack at the fact that he’s locked you in the cabin.

“Ah ah ah.” Dave tuts disappointedly. “A good girl wouldn’t yell about her situation.” He tells you. “I’ll be back in three days, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll bring those cookies you love. And you don’t have to worry about Johnny.” He decides to tell you the truth. “I killed him. And you texted me, telling me that you were quitting to move in with him. So Carol won’t wonder where you’ve gone.”

You sob, hearing the truth that Dave killed Johnny. He didn’t deserve to die. He was a good man. You nearly drop the phone, covering your mouth to smother your sob but know Dave can see it on the camera. “Don’t be sad. Now we can be together. When I want. I’m gonna have you forever. You’re mine now.” Dave declares and hangs up the phone. 

You frantically try to call back on the phone but the line is dead. You press the numbers over and over with no response so you finally slump down onto the floor. Dave killed Johnny and now you are his prisoner. Your selfishness has ruined everything, Dave has destroyed everything. You cry for Johnny, for your future, and you know you won’t make it out of here alive. Dave won’t let you go now. You’ll be his. Forever.

[missvelvetsstuff]

As per usual, I'm a bit stuck on my current story, No Benefits(don't worry, I'm working on it but progress is slow.) And this idea popped into my head. Well, the truth is I rewatched the Newsroom and it gave me an idea. If you've seen the show you might see the similarities but it's not identical.

If you haven't seen the show, you really should.

Here's a draft of the prologue, LMK what you think and if you want more.

The Situation Room

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After a mission almost gone wrong, Tony brings back Bucky's former assistant, who is also Bucky's ex. Can they work together without hurting each other? Will the whole truth about their break up finally come out?

Avengers AU where Thanos never happened.

Prologue

Warnings: Swearing, angst, cannabis usage

Buckys motorcycle roared up the driveway of the Avengers compound, returning from a two week vacation after a mission fiasco. Tony had sent him to his house on Loon Lake, upstate. It was bigger and fancier than Bucky ever needed but secluded, quiet and on the water. Very relaxing. Pretty girls at the bar down the road helped pass the time.

He felt himself tensing as he parked and turned his bike off. Flashes of the drama went through his mind and he shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

His goddamn assistant had risked the mission when she didn't make sure he was fully  equipped. She was cute and not bad in the sack but had only lasted a few weeks before forgetting his favorite knife and guns, causing him to be unarmed and unable to protect the civilians he was trying to rush from the building. Thankfully Sam had been close by and able to get them to safety.

Bucky was lucky no one was killed. Well, no innocents were killed but a couple were seriously hurt, including a young girl, maybe 10 years old. He was shot as well but that was healed before he had headed upstate.

The press had a field day and the anti Avengers crowd went nuts. It didn't help that he lost his temper at a reporter who pushed a camera into his face, which he grabbed with his vibranium hand and crushed before returning it to the reporter with a big grin.

Bucky strode into the building, nodding at security as he passed, and went straight for his room to drop his backpack. Then he headed to the common room, just in time for dinner. Most of the team was there and Tony reminded him they needed to meet about the assistant situation.

Obviously his old assistant had been fired but a new one would need to be hired and Bucky hated that whole process. Tony expected him to at least sit in on the interviews since the first three he had were only interviewed by Pepper and washed out within the first week.

After he ate Bucky cleared his plate, confirmed he would meet up with Tony first thing in the morning, and went to bed.

His sleep was interrupted by nightmares of that mission, they had eased while he was gone but were back now that he was home. In his dreams, he failed and innocent people died, he watched that young girl bleed out in his arms before he woke up yelling.

Bucky was up at 5am, worked out, showered, ate and headed to Tony's office. When he arrived Tony's secretary waved him into the office.

Bucky sat across from Tony and waited for him to finish his phone call "Perfect, I really appreciate your help on this. I'll see you in a few minutes?" He paused, listening "No, that's no problem, I'll keep him here."

Tony hung up the call and looked at Bucky with a big grin on his face. "I believe I have solved your assistant problem. I found the perfect person and she'll be here any minute."

Bucky nodded "Great, so I can go now, right." Standing up from his seat, Bucky turned around and saw her. He did a double take, then glared at Tony

"NO! Hell no. No fucking way, this isn't happening Stark. I'm not working with her! Not after what happened. What she did."

Y/N smirked and winked at him while her gut wrenched at the hate in his eyes, she wouldn't let him see her pain. "Nice seeing you again too, Barnes."

Tony shook his head "Sorry pal, you don't get a vote in this. You've gone through 13 assistants in 6 months, not to mention the dozens in the 2 years before that. Y/N was the last one who knew what she was doing. The rest just wanted to get in your bed."

Y/N chuckled "That won't be a problem with me. I wouldn't have even come but I could use a break. Madripoor has been worse than usual since the Power Broker showed up"

Bucky flinched at the mention of Sharon Carter but pushed it aside then smirked "Well we agree on that, you're not getting anywhere near my bed." He looked at Tony "Can I go now?"

Tony nodded. Once Bucky was gone Tony hugged Y/N "Sorry about that but you know how he is better than anyone."

She shrugged sadly "It's fine. I mean he could have gone violent. I'm gonna go get my room unpacked. I'll see you at the team meeting tomorrow morning."

Bucky stalked to his room where he paced angrily for a few minutes before yelling into a pillow then changing and heading to the gym to work it out.

He started on a punching bag and his mind wandered. Why did Tony have to bring her back? There had to be other people out there that could do the job, the rest of the team all had long time assistants and didn't go through all the drama he seemed to. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door opening.

Steve walked up to him at the same time he broke the punching bag which slid across the room and threw sand everywhere. "You alright there punk?"

Bucky glared at him "Do you know what Tony has done? Did you know?"

Steve sighed "Tony told me this morning. Said he didn't want me tipping you off. I know you're not happy about it but she was the last competent assistant you had. Your mission gear, appointments and paperwork were under control so no goofs like with every assistant you've had since, you know." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, not wanting to open any old wounds.

Bucky scoffed "How am I supposed to deal with her every fucking day. After everything that happened. I don't know if I can do this without losing it."

Steve nodded "I know but maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe you two can talk and find some kind of closure, even be friends again."

Bucky snorted "Thor been visiting with his fancy liquor? You can't possibly say that and be sober. How can I be friends after she-" he couldn't say it.

"I know jerk but just give it a shot. If it's awful then we'll make changes but at least you'll have tried."

Bucky sighed "I was gonna marry her."

Y/N went to her bedroom, Tony was kind enough to find her a place far from Bucky's quarters, where she had practically lived before everything blew up. She sighed and looked at the boxes stacked up next to the sofa, in her little seating area, before falling into the sofa.

Being in Bucky's presence for just moments was exhausting, forcing her to wade through all the heartache from two years ago. For a long moment she questioned her ability to deal with seeing him again, every day and still so pissed at her. Obviously he still hadn't learned the truth about that day but she wasn't going to try to tell him. She already did that, tried to get to him before anyone else could spin what happened but she was too late and what she found when she tried to go home had blown her life up. She had no reason to expect him to be open to hearing anything from her.

She shook her head to clear the negative thoughts. Bucky might hate her but he needed her, even if he would never admit it. Once his life was back in order and his reputation polished she would disappear back to Madripoor.

When she was done unpacking and organizing her room, Y/N grabbed a sandwich and iced tea from the cooler on the coffee table and sat back to enjoy her dinner. As she cleaned up, she ate a special brownie hoping it would help her sleep but knowing that it wouldn't be enough to stop the nightmares.

Tomorrows meeting would be interesting.

Chapter 1

[whenyoufellfromheaven]

WHEN YOU FELL FROM HEAVEN

by Alyson Greaves

Expand this post to read the first three chapters for free, right here!

How to Fly, book one of When You Fell from Heaven, which comprises the first ten chapters of the story, is available:

On Amazon, for Kindle and in Paperback.

As an ebook from these online stores.

Or from Itch.io.

Or you can read all current chapters on my Patreon! Subscribing to my Patreon at the $5 tier will get you all fifteen chapters (so far) of When You Fell from Heaven. You will also get access to my ongoing stories The Catch, a forced-fem riff on Fifty Shades with illustrations by Emory Ahlberg, and Kimmy, a horrifying take on the Halloween costume that won’t let you out. And you’ll get the full epub of the revised version of Show Girl, my egg-cracking trans romance, and access to chapters of The Sisters of Dorley two weeks early!

One

THE BOY WITH THE RUBBER BAND IN HIS HAIR

He thought there would be more palm trees.

The car bounces off a pothole and wakes him from a restless sleep, and Max’s first thought, when he pushes himself up in the back seat and stares out the window, is that California doesn’t look like California. His whole life, California’s been a near-mythical paradise, drenched in sun, scattered with palm trees and populated entirely by beautiful people. But all he sees is just more America. More of the same suburbs they’ve seen, on and off, for the five days of their journey. It looks almost exactly like Rock Falls, the nowhere town in the middle of the country they spent a whole day walking around because Dad needed a break from driving. The same strip malls, the same absurdly wide streets, the same endless sky.

It’s just brighter here. More painful to look at.

After everything that happened, Max never expected to miss New York, but for the whole drive across the country he’s been feeling increasingly like an animal bred in captivity let suddenly out into the wild. Where’s the density? Where are the people?

All in their fucking cars, apparently. Same as him.

Screw this. He needs music.

His headphones must have slipped off while he was sleeping, because Clay’s holding them out for him. Max takes them, smiles at his brother in silent thanks, and thumbs blindly at his Discman until the first track starts again. The throaty rumble of someone seriously abusing a bass guitar immediately shuts out the rattle of the trailer and the hum of tires on asphalt, and Max turns back to the window to watch building after bleached building glide slowly by as they head for their new home, for his new life.

He doesn’t exactly have high hopes.

* * *

Taking the stairs two at a time—but sometimes jumping back up one just because she can—Taylor revels in her first Saturday alone in the house. Her parents are away all week! And that means she can do whatever she wants! Sure, she normally does whatever she wants anyway, but now she can do it without her mom complaining about the noise.

She sticks the landing in the front hall, bounces right into the living room, and collects the remote from its little holster on the side of Dad’s armchair without slowing down. The CD changer opens for her, prompting the whole stereo setup to light up like a space shuttle control board, and Taylor gets to work dumping out all of Mom and Dad’s boring old crap so she can listen to something good down here for a change. She’s got a handful of favorites on her, but she’s also got something that came out almost a month ago that she still hasn’t gotten to listen to on anything better than the crappy little portable stereo in her room. And as the speakers shake with the opening bars of Beyoncé’s Crazy in Love, Taylor readies the remote like a microphone and prepares to strut.

Holy shizz, she loves this song. She turns it up until the floor hums along.

Gordo should have been the one to get her this CD. She was excited about it for, like, ever, and he knows she loves Destiny’s Child, but did he remember? Nope with a big fat N, O, P and E. So she got it for herself a week late.

Freaking Gordo! He was supposed to come over today, help her take advantage of the parentals being away, but he’s flaked, which is more and more like him lately. Five texts on her Sidekick when she woke up, and not one of them was an apology! He’s preparing for college; he has football camp coming up; she wouldn’t understand.

Taylor scowls. It’s a sore point: no cheer camp this year. But Mom and Dad had the vacation booked anyway, and Garrett barely inhabits any part of the house that isn’t his room, the couch or the kitchen, so at least she has some time to relax.

Time in which she should stop thinking about her disappointing boyfriend.

Leaning into the beat, Taylor lets it lift her mood again, and when the final chorus comes around, she times her, “Yeah!” with a precise kick to the latch on the patio doors, opening the house to the summer breeze. As she dances out into the backyard, she points the remote back into the house and ups the volume another couple of notches.

Taylor lets the album play as she does some of her warm-up stretches. She’s not planning to go through her whole routine right now, but she can’t start the day without moving just a bit, and today she gets to do so to some loud music.

There’s a reason she always practices to music. Nothing gets her going like a beat and lyrics she can yell. And under any other circumstances, she might be a bit embarrassed, because her singing voice isn’t exactly great and it’s worse when she’s stretching a leg up over her head, but their neighbors on the right can’t get out into their backyard anymore without help from their grandchildren, and the house on the left’s been empty since—

Wait. It got sold, right? Isn’t someone moving in soon? Really soon? Like, today, maybe?

Shoot!

Given Taylor’s luck, they probably already moved in yesterday, and right now, cute boys are watching her out of their upstairs windows and laughing at how she almost fell flat on her face when she tried to do a handstand and sing Naughty Girl at the same time.

She shuts off the music, throws the remote down into the grass, and runs to the fence. There won’t be anybody there, she’s sure, but paranoia requires that she check.

Every house on this street is the same—on the outside, at least—and that means Taylor’s house has the same row of stubby trees against the privacy fence as their (potential) new neighbors. They’re staggered, so no tree interferes with any other, but together they provide enough cover that Taylor can stand on a lawn chair and peer over the fence and be pretty sure she can’t be seen.

Nobody in the rooms upstairs. And nobody in the backyard. Except now she’s switched off the music, she can hear noises from the front of the neighboring house, faint but growing louder: the growl of a large engine (a truck? or a regular car, towing a trailer?) and raised, bickering voices (boys?).

Then there’s movement inside the house. Curtains being swept aside, doors being propped open. People milling around. Taylor’s pretty sure she just saw someone dad-sized and -shaped staggering along with a huge box.

The back door opens, and Taylor lowers her head a little. Her blonde hair doesn’t exactly help with the whole camouflage thing, but what are the chances anybody’ll glance over at this exact section of fence? The backyards here are the size of football fields!

A figure emerges. Gotta be the mom. Looks like a mom, standard model, Italian-American variant: kinda tall, kinda middle-aged stocky, and her hair is incredible! She’s got it pinned but the volume! It’s straining to be set free, like a caged tiger, if a tiger was jet black and sort of lurked.

More like a caged panther, maybe.

The mom yells something back into the house—a New York accent! cool!—and the dad of the family comes out to meet her, and whoa. He’s not super tall, maybe an inch or two taller than his wife, but he is wide. Like if you took two people, trimmed off all the excess limbs, and smooshed them together. He’s like if puberty didn’t stop until you’re forty, and you just kept getting stockier and more hairy.

They talk a little, pointing out different things in the yard—none of them Taylor—and then they kiss, except they don’t just kiss, he dips her!

“Oh my goodness,” Taylor whispers. She can’t help herself; that was just so romantic! Married with kids and they still do that!

She remembers them now: they came looking around the neighborhood right at the start of the holidays. Mom offered them iced tea and they asked for regular coffee, and Taylor saw them for approximately three seconds, on her way through the kitchen to the front door. On second inspection, she likes them.

What was their name again? Something Italian, something with a G… Giordano, that was it! She remembers clearly now: when Taylor got back that night, Mom was going on about finally getting some ‘Italian flavor’ in the neighborhood, and Dad asked her what that meant, and she said something about tomatoes. Garrett, who was having one of his rare moments of consciousness, told them their heads would explode if they ever saw any actual diversity, and Taylor told him he smelled like weed again.

Another fun night in the Scott household.

Mom Giordano kisses Dad Giordano again and they both set off for the house. When they get to the door, Mom Giordano sticks her head inside and yells, “Boys! Stop messing around and unpack! We’ve been in California five minutes and you’re already driving me crazy!” She shrugs at her husband, and they both vanish into what Taylor assumes is the kitchen.

Then there’s nothing for a bit. Shame, because this is the most exciting thing to happen in Vista Primavera in years. She’s about to step down from her lawn chair and get back to her routine when someone new comes out the same door, and he’s… yum. Like his dad, he’s not exactly tall, maybe five-ten, five-eleven, but he’s built. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt and jeans, and Taylor can see enough of him to know that there’s a good shape under all that. And he’s not shaped like a bodybuilder, either; nor is he shaped like her boyfriend, like a football player. He’s shaped like a guy who works for a living. He’s got the family black hair, cut short and kinda curly, and thick eyebrows and a mess of stubble, and if it weren’t for her stupid boyfriend and also for the fact that he’s probably at least twenty-one, she’d hop the fence right now and ask very politely if she could eat him up with a spoon and maybe some non-fat ice cream on the side.

Guys like that look good on her.

“Hey!” he yells back into the house. “Max! Come check this out! You can see a mountain from the backyard!”

Taylor doesn’t laugh, though she kinda wants to. That’s not a mountain! Not like the real ones; you have to go north for those. Here in Vista Primavera they have, well, they have hills, hills with delusions of grandeur, and they look kinda blasted and scrappy most of the time, except for two months in the spring. She makes a mental note to really admire them when they get green again. To genuinely try to appreciate them, because people in other parts of the country don’t have crappy hills to look at.

And then the last member of the Giordano clan steps out of the kitchen door. Max. And he’s nothing like his dad or his brother. He’s closer to Taylor’s height, maybe five-eight, definitely a good couple inches shorter than his jacked brother. His features are similar, though, just softer, like if his brother is maybe twenty-five percent through the family forty-year puberty, Max is at five percent. Maybe ten; he does have a little dark hair on his upper lip. He wears his black hair long and a little greasy, tied in a messy ponytail with what looks like a rubber band! Ick! She shudders to think what it’s like to get that mess straight in the morning. Maybe there are brushes still lost in there!

Maybe he doesn’t brush it, like, at all.

Max is clearly the younger brother, but he’s not young, he’s just kind of… hard to place. He’s wearing board shorts and a shirt with a band she’s never heard of on it, both of which are too big for him, and— Hmm. He is sort of toned, actually. He’s not covered in muscles, not like his brother or like Gordo, but they’re there, lurking in his slender limbs. He’s built like a swimmer. A swimmer on a starvation diet, maybe, whose hair hasn’t known the cleansing kiss of water in far too long, but a swimmer nonetheless.

And then Max high fives his brother, sways his arms, steps into a ready stance, and performs the most perfect sequences of handsprings, somersaults and flips Taylor’s ever seen. The form! The confidence! The sheer height he achieves! He finishes with a double full, and he’s barely panting at all!

Not built like a swimmer, then. Built like a gymnast.

Interesting…

“Show off!” his brother shouts.

“I’m just stiff!” Max yells back at him. “From the drive! I needed to stretch my legs!”

“Whatever.” His brother grins at him. “Just come help me unpack the kitchen stuff before Mom goes ballistic, okay?”

“Fine.”

His brother goes inside, but Max apparently can’t resist one more tumble, even more elaborate than before, and although Taylor’s inner cheerleader wants to scold him for not stretching properly and for just going for it on a lawn he’s never even seen before, which could have hidden rocks or loose stones or unexpected divots, she can’t help applauding.

Because he’s amazing. She’s only seen moves like that at the Olympics! And at, well, at the annual cheerleading competition. The one she’s been wanting the squad to at least try to qualify for. The one she always has to settle for watching on TV.

Oh.

Oh no!

He’s seen her.

Well, obviously he has: she’s still clapping like an idiot. Like a performing seal. He’s frowning in her direction, but before she can wave and say hi and maybe apologize, he takes off, running back to the house with impressive speed.

He glances at her one more time, and then he slams the kitchen door.

Shoot.

* * *

Max drops onto his brand-new bed, too tired and too annoyed to unpack his own shit. He helped with the kitchen stuff, he helped with the living room stuff, he even helped Clay put together those stupid ‘couch in a box’ things and almost got his fingers trapped, and none of it was strenuous enough to forget the fact that he’s been in California just a few hours and already he’s humiliated himself in front of a pretty girl.

A pretty girl who is his neighbor. And it’s not something she’s likely to forget. In a year, when they graduate, she’ll still be telling the story of the loner boy who moved in next door and immediately started prancing around the backyard like a—

Careful, Max. You hate it when they say it; why use it on yourself?

Ugh. It was supposed to be different here. Stupid thing to let himself think. It was always going to be exactly the same.

And why California, anyway? Everything’s too damn big here.

His bed included. He’s stretching to his fullest extent—he’s still sore from the car—and he can’t reach all four corners of the bed at once. Not like in his old bed. No, back home in Queens, when he and Avery lay in bed, talking, it would sometimes be a challenge not to knock each other off. But the money Mom and Dad got for the old place bought a fucking mansion here; he and Avery could probably host three other people on this monster-sized mattress before it got awkward.

At least the yard is super-sized, too. A genuine California bonus. One that he instantly wrecked, of course; he can’t go out there now. The neighbor girl might see him.

His phone buzzes again. He’s been ignoring it the last hour or so, but he can’t keep pretending the outside world doesn’t exist. After all, there’s so much of it here.

Max flicks open the pocket of his board shorts and digs around in the fluff until he finds his phone. Last year’s model, but when Clay upgrades again next year, he’ll have this year’s model, and until then, he’s fine with his Nokia 3410. It’s not like phones are any different year on year, anyway; they get a bit smaller and a bit rounder, and sometimes you don’t get Snake.

Avery’s been texting him. So far, he hasn’t wanted to respond. Too final. He doesn’t want to acknowledge how little they’re going to be in each other’s lives from now on.

Avery: Maxxy! Have fun in sunny California! Don’t forget about me! Avery: You’ve forgotten about me, haven’t you Avery: Crying real tears right now Avery: Max, you’re supposed to reply when someone texts you. That’s how it works. It’s called Textiquette. I read it in a magazine at the dentist. Avery: WHAT STATE ARE YOU EVEN IN RIGHT NOW? DID YOU MAKE IT TO SO-CAL? OR ARE YOU STUCK IN FLYOVER HELL? Avery: Sorry for caps Avery: I’m so bored Avery: Maxxxxxxxxxy

Unfair that he had to leave her behind. Unfair that he had to leave at all, but he couldn’t very well tell Dad he wanted to stay in Queens, not after everything. When your whole family sacrifices everything they’ve ever known and moves across the country just for you—even if they don’t say it—it’s bad form to bitch too hard about it.

Avery, though. An impossible goodbye. She cried a lot; he tried really hard to join in. But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe she’s better off with him out of her life, attached to him by only the thinnest and lengthiest of threads. She’s going places, after all; to the Olympics, almost definitely. He was never as good as her, even before he quit.

So she can get over him. Make other friends. Start her senior year without the baggage he brings unavoidably with him wherever he goes.

Avery: Max Max Max Max Max Max Max

He should probably reply before she texts again.

Max: Hey Avery: Max! Get on AIM nowwwwwwww Max: How do you even have the energy to hit the 9 key that many times Avery: Because I do my warm ups Max Avery: Unlike some of us Avery: Now get on AIM I’m booooooored Max: I can’t, sorry. I don’t think we have internet yet Avery: Not even dial up? Max: I saw the phone line when I was helping Dad unpack downstairs. Is it supposed to have a bunch of bare wires coming out of it? Avery: Boooo Avery: I don’t have infinite texts Max Max: You could have fooled me Avery: So I’m going to wish you a happy California and a very get on AIM as soon as you have ANY kind of internet Max: I will. Miss you Avery: You BETTER

Max drops his phone onto the nightstand and allows the low battery indicator to motivate him into doing something useful. He rolls out of bed—he has to roll twice to actually accomplish this—and starts rummaging through boxes, looking for his charger. Once he has it, he looks around for an outlet and plugs it in.

There. Now he has a bed and a phone charger! The place looks more like home already. And now that he’s out of bed again, he might as well have a shower and wash off the gunk from traveling all night. He digs around until he finds the box marked Max’s Bathroom and just takes the whole damn thing in with him.

Another California bonus: he doesn’t have to share a bathroom with three other people anymore.

* * *

Garrett’s finally crawled out of his room and slugged his way down the stairs to take up residence on the couch. Ick. Just three hours ago, this would have been bad because he would have made Taylor turn down her music or beg her to go to the store for more Doritos or something, and that would have been annoying enough. But now she’s on a mission, and the thing about being on a mission is that your goal is greatly hampered by anyone knowing what it is or having reason to guess.

So she’s trying to make smoothies as subtly as she can, and maybe he won’t get up from his cartoons and ask—

“Hey, Tay, whatya doing?”

Taylor stamps a foot in irritation. “None of your beeswax, Gar‑rat.”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbles, rolling off from his precarious position against the dividing wall and returning to the living room. Moments later, he turns up the volume on the TV.

Well! That went okay. Obviously he’s still too wasted to have more than two consecutive coherent thoughts, and that suits Taylor just fine. He can waste away the day in front of his cartoons if he wants to. She checks interact civilly with my gross brother off her mental list and throws the rest of the ingredients into the blender.

They really should have grown out of the sibling thing, the way the other girls she knows with older brothers mostly have. But it’s absence that makes the heart grow fonder, and he’s always around! Worse, he’ll always be around! Mom and Dad won’t kick him out, not after he paid them rent on his room for the next five years, which means she’s stuck with him.

When the blender gets done, she pours the contents into two metal cups and screws on the lids, throwing them both into a plastic bag. In the mirror by the side door, she gives herself a final check, and she looks perfect: pink cargo pants, pink crop top, and a white shirt thrown over the top, for modesty. She looks sporty but fashionable; exactly the impression she wants to give to the new boy next door. She even left her hair up!

As she steps into her white sneakers she throws a final glare through the kitchen wall at Garrett. He won’t see it, but he might feel it, and it might spoil his cartoons by like one percent.

She has to admit, they’d probably also get along better if he wasn’t such a tech prodigy. And without even trying! It’s bullcrap. Computers are supposed to be Taylor’s backup, in the very likely event that cheerleading isn’t enough to take her to college, but she’ll always have to live in the shadow of her older brother, who started a dot-com when he was fifteen and sold it for literal millions when he was barely older than Taylor is now. So even if she does go to college for computer science, she’ll always be the cheerleader little sister to the guy who created Munchie Portal, the Portal for Munchies.

It has a new name now that Yahoo! owns it, but everyone still calls it that.

Ick. Forget Garrett. She’s here for one reason, and she squares it in her mind as she skips the short distance between the houses and knocks on the Giordanos’ door. A few seconds later, Mom Giordano opens it and smiles down at her.

“Well, hello!” she says. “Who do we have here? Wait, don’t tell me; you’re the neighbor girl, aren’t you!”

Taylor puts on her most dazzling smile. “Guilty!”

“Well, do come in. And what do you have there?”

Hefting her bag, Taylor says, “Actually, these are for Max. Or one of them is, anyway.”

Mom Giordano’s welcoming smile contorts somewhat. “You know Max?”

“I don’t know him,” Taylor says quickly, sensing she might already have stepped on some hidden motherly landmine, “but I think I sort of embarrassed him earlier? I saw him practicing out in the yard and I thought he was really good, so I clapped, and then I didn’t have a chance to tell him it was a sincere clap and not, like, a sarcastic clap, so—” she lifts one of the cups out of the bag, “—I brought an apology present.”

“Aren’t you a sweet girl?” And then Mom Giordano does the classic mom move, which New York Italian moms apparently do just as well as WASPy Californian moms: it’s when they lean back, away from the teen in front of them, and yell at the top of their voice up the stairs. Taylor’s never known why any of them do this, because the extra foot or so of distance doesn’t moderate the extreme volume even slightly. “Maxwell! You got a visitor!” When there’s no answer, she looks back at Taylor. “Why don’t you go on up? Third door on the right.”

“Thanks, Mrs Giordano!” Taylor says in her peppiest voice. She starts up the stairs.

As she ascends, she hears Mom Giordano say to her husband, “Well, look at that! She even remembers our names. And that outfit! This one might not be so bad…”

Taylor slows as she reaches the top of the stairs, and counts doors, quickly identifying Max’s as the half-open one on the end. There’s another mirror up here—just a little one hanging on the wall, filling one of the many preinstalled picture hooks, most of which are still empty—and she checks herself again: not a hair out of place, and her outfit still looks good. She could have worn her cheer uniform, since it tends to make a good impression on guys and parents alike, but she knows the reputation cheerleaders have at some schools; he might have cheer-TSD.

She knocks on his door, and though there’s no answer, the door swings all the way open at her touch, so she takes a half-step inside.

And immediately she sees a door on the other side of the room open up.

Before Taylor can react, Maxwell Giordano, loosely robed, with long wet hair draped over half his face down to his shoulders, and with a slice of his toned but almost skeletally thin body on display through the open top half of the robe… steps out of his bathroom and meets her eyes.

“Fuck!” he yells, and immediately turns around and slams the bathroom door behind him.

Shoot!

* * *

“I’ll be outside!” the Peeping Tom neighbor girl yells, and it has to be her, because, yeah, he didn’t get a good look at her before, but the girl hanging over the fence was blonde like her and—more pertinently—she clapped at him like a perky idiot, and only a perky idiot would walk into the bedroom of someone she doesn’t know, uninvited, so, yeah, it’s her. “I’ll let you get dressed! I’ll just… I’m sorry! I’ll be outside.”

He probably can’t wait her out, then. Not unless he gets lucky and the sun explodes before she gets bored, or Mom comes up to yell at him for being rude.

The first thing Max does when he leaves the bathroom again is check to make sure that Peeping Tom neighbor girl did, in fact, close his bedroom door; she did. Thank fuck. He leaves her out there while he sorts through boxes, trying to put together something presentable, eventually ending up with three options.

They all suck.

Whatever! None of his shit actually fits him, but that’s not exactly a new problem, and if the neighbor girl doesn’t like it, she should learn not to show up unexpectedly in people’s rooms. Shit, what even is the protocol in this situation? Should he make her a coffee or something? What do Californians drink? Orange juice? No, that’s Floridians. Iced tea? Pulped palm trees? That would explain why there aren’t as many around as he expected.

If only Avery were here. She might not know what to do either, but at least she’d be funny about it, and at least having another girl around might stop things getting awkward.

Fuck it. He’s eighteen. He can do what he wants. Including embarrass himself in front of local girls. What can she do, make his life worse?

He picks the least awful set of clothes, throws it on, and stuffs the others back into the nearest box. A quick glance in the closet mirror is enough to confirm that he looks adequate, so he ties up his hair in a rubber band and opens the door. On the other side, the neighbor girl smiles sheepishly at him.

“Sorry,” she says. “Twice. Sorry for that, and sorry for earlier, in the yard. Can I come in?” She holds up a plastic bag. “I have a peace offering.”

She might be intrusive and forward, but she’s also gorgeous. California blonde and dressed for a run, just like any number of other girls he saw out of the car window this morning, and there’s enough individuality to her face to make her attractive, not merely pretty. Like, very attractive. To him. Personally. And her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment and her eyes are apologetic so he can’t be all that mad at her. She reminds him of Avery, a bit; she couldn’t look more different, but the expression on her face is uncannily like when Avery came rushing over at six in the morning to tell him she finally kissed Rebecca and that it was just as magical as she always hoped.

And it’s a cute expression. On both of them.

“Sure,” he says. “Come in.”

“Wow,” she says, craning her neck, making a show of looking around. “Nice room! Lots of boxes! And… a guitar! You play?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but I don’t do anything with it. I just kinda pick it up and put it down again.”

“Still. Pretty cool.” Then she shakes her head and pulls out of her plastic bag a metal cup with a straw poking through its lid. “Behold: my custom smoothies. No fat, plenty of protein, and a hundred percent delicious!”

“No fat, huh,” he says, a smile riding unbidden on his lips.

“I promise. Athlete to athlete.”

She’s still holding it out, so he takes it from her and tries a sip and, yeah, okay, it’s actually good. In fact, it’s excellent. It’s better than the smoothies Coach used to hand out back home, a long, long time ago.

Best not to think about that.

“Wow,” he says.

“Can I cook, or can I cook?”

“Yes. You can cook.”

He steps backward and drops onto his bed, still holding the smoothie. She takes it as an invitation and sits cross-legged on the floor, sucking on her own cup and looking around again.

“I think your house is the same as mine inside,” she says thoughtfully. “Like, I was pretty sure it would be? Since all the places on this street are kinda the same. But I’ve never been inside another one before. This? This is actually my room. Just—” she crosses her arms at the wrist, “—flipped.”

“Oh,” Max says, grinning. “Sorry for imposing.”

“Forgiven.”

“So, you’re an athlete?”

She perks up. “I am!”

“Um, this would be the point where you tell me what kind of athlete.”

“Cheerleader,” she says with a slight wince, like she’s expecting him to laugh. And that would be a dick move, so he doesn’t, but he is a little offended that she would compare what he does to what she does.

Still a dick move, Max, even in your own head. At least she’s probably still active. Probably doesn’t neglect her stretches, either.

“That’s cool!” he says, injecting the proper enthusiasm.

“It is cool,” she says, very seriously.

“Okay, neighbor girl, what’s your name? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘the Peeping Tom girl’ forever.”

She giggles. “Sorry about that. I really did think you were good, though. That’s why I clapped. And I’m Taylor. Taylor Scott.”

She’s holding out a hand, so he takes it and they shake. He doesn’t linger on it, pulling his hand away immediately. It’s always a little embarrassing to shake hands with people: with men, they want to do that insane test-of-strength thing—Max tends to think of it as a Business Armwrestle—and he’s terrible at it; with women, he finds they both just sort of limply clutch each other for a moment.

At least with girls, his hands don’t get lost inside theirs. His brother’s hands are huge, multiple glove sizes above Max’s, though to Clay’s credit, he hasn’t teased him about it. He’s just promised Max that his growth spurt is coming, and that if he starts, like, actually eating again, he’ll soon be as big as the rest of the Giordano men. And Max is ambivalent about that, because as much as it would be nice to no longer be so scrawny, if he becomes suddenly Clay-sized, his gymnastic career—his primary passion since he was a kid—is definitely over, not just probably over as it is now. He’d have to relearn everything: how to move, how to jump, where his center of gravity is, all of it. And after the way things ended before, he’s not sure he can take instruction again.

He might finally have an impressive handshake, though.

“Hey, Max?” Taylor says. “You okay? You zoned out a bit.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He shakes his head and rubs at the back of his neck, where he’s the most sore. “I’m tired. I slept in the car but not well, you know?”

She nods, then looks around again and giggles. “Max,” she says, scandalized, “the door’s closed!”

So it is. Must have springs on the hinges or something. “Yeah?”

“Your parents aren’t going to yell at you?”

“Oh,” he says, laughing a little, “no, probably not. I had a friend back in New York— That’s where I’m from, by the way.”

“I guessed.”

“My accent?”

“Your mom’s actually. And you do look kinda… New York-ish.”

“I do? Huh. Anyway, me and my friend were in and out of each other’s rooms all the time. I liked hers better, actually; mine was always too hot in the summer. Our parents got used to it. They didn’t have much of a choice.”

Her eyes wide, Taylor says, “But a guy and a girl in a bedroom together? My mom and dad would not be happy about that.”

“Avery’s gay,” Max says, shrugging. “And even before she came out, I think her parents knew. And mine guessed. So they knew we weren’t going to do anything.”

“You’ve got a lesbian best friend?” Taylor says, almost shrieking. “That is so cool.”

“I’ll make sure and tell her you said that.”

“And you really never did anything together?”

“Well…” He can feel himself start to blush.

God damn Avery. Around guys—even around his brother these days—he keeps himself locked tight for his own good, but Avery never put up with that when he tried it with her. He kept closing himself off and she kept jamming that crowbar back in. Thanks to her, he’s used to letting his guard down around girls his age. And now Taylor, who’s been in his life for all of ten minutes, is able to open him up like a clam.

“Go on…” she says, leaning in with a smile and touching his hand, a maneuver that demolishes any chance he might have had at defending against her.

“We practiced kissing,” he says into his shirt. “Quite a few times. First she wanted to know what it was like and then she wanted to get good for this girl she liked, so I’d, um…” Helplessly he mimes something, his fingers vaguely grasping at each other.

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“She was your first?” Taylor guesses.

His cheeks are burning now. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“It wasn’t obvious until you lit up like a Christmas tree!” she says, delighted. “You blush worse than I do. You really didn’t have a girl back in New York? A non-lesbian girl, I mean.”

He shrugs again. “Guys on the gymnastics team come in two types,” he starts, and then he hesitates, and Taylor takes over.

“Right,” she says. “Big built guys like your brother, and slim quick ones like you. And it’s the big ones who get the girls. And the slim ones...”

She doesn’t have to finish the thought. They both know what everybody at school thinks of the little guys on the gymnastics team. But she doesn’t seem to be judging. It’s just like before, when she saw him messing around in the backyard: she could have mocked him, and she didn’t. And it’s all right there for her to pick up and use against him! In his experience, nobody leaves an opening like that alone around him.

Nobody except Avery.

Huh. Maybe Taylor can be a friend. Like Avery.

“Hey,” he says, remembering how they got onto this topic, “do your parents know you came over to see a boy?”

“Oh, they’re on a trip,” she says, waving a hand. “And I’m eighteen in, like, a month, so what can they do?”

“What can they do?”

She sags. “They’d yell. A lot. But what they don’t know can't hurt me, right?”

He returns her grin. “Right.”

* * *

Taylor practically skips out of Max’s house. Wow, she’s almost high! For some reason, when Max spoke, it felt like every word he said was the most important thing in the world. And he’s so cool! He’s from New York, he plays guitar, and on this morning’s evidence, he’s also the best gymnast she’s ever met. He just might be the answer to all her prayers.

And he has the prettiest brown eyes…

It took some doing, but she managed to persuade him to come over tomorrow morning to spot her while she runs through her routines. He was nice enough not to say it, or even show it, but he almost definitely thinks cheerleading isn’t as challenging as what he’s used to; she’s going to show him how wrong he is. And she confirmed that he’s her age—eighteen, actually, so older, but only by like a month; his mom must have held him back at preschool or something—and he’s going to Vista Primavera High for senior year, same as her. So all she has to do, once she’s shown him how awesome cheerleading can be, is ask him to join the squad.

Ick, and then talk the other girls into accepting another guy on the squad. That might be the tricky part; it’s not that guys on the squad are a problem, but all the guys they have are, well, big. And they have to be, since they anchor and they catch a lot. Max, who is barely an inch taller than her—she checked when they said goodbye—doesn’t fit in there.

Whatever! She’ll work it out. She’ll make the squad see what he can do, and they’ll have to accept him. And then they might finally have a shot at regionals!

And that means she gets to spend a lot more time with Max Giordano.

She swings the plastic bag with the metal cups in her hand as she opens the front door, and she’s about to go straight to the kitchen to wash them when Garrett yells out from the couch, “Hey! Tay! Gordo’s here!”

And, rising from the other couch, where he’s been watching cartoons with her loser older brother, is her boyfriend.

Oh yeah. She has a boyfriend. Shoot.

Two

I CAN FIX HIM

Max can’t remember the last time he spent so long in the shower. Usually he just kinda jumps in, soaps up everywhere he can reach and jumps out again, but today he’s making an effort. He even snuck into the main bathroom, the one that has pride of place at the center of the upstairs hallway—the one nobody’s ever going to use, because every bedroom bar the guest room in this insanely massive house has a bathroom of its own—and stole the fancy shampoo, conditioner and body wash. He’s got no idea why Mom put that stuff out; it’s not like they’re expecting guests on their second day in Vista Primavera. But he’s got the matching blue bottles lined up on the side and he’s working his way through them, one by one. In a surge of diligence, he’s even been reading the instructions on the bottles for the first time in his life.

Apparently you’re supposed to leave the conditioner in! For several minutes! Does everyone know that? Is that why his hair’s always gotten so tangled? Because nobody ever told him?

He lathers up and cleans almost every other part of his body twice—skipping over the burn scars on his ribs, same as always—and then washes out the conditioner, running his hands through his locks as he does so. His hair parts cleanly between his fingers and doesn’t even clump up when he squeezes the water out of it. It feels kind of amazing, actually.

But yeah. He’s trying. This morning, he’s really trying. Sue him.

There’s no point to it, really. Taylor’s a cheerleader, and cheerleaders never go for guys like him, and she’s probably got a quarterback boyfriend or something. But Avery was always trying to get him to take more care of himself, like he used to, so what the hell, right? New city, new state; new Max. Mostly the same as the old Max, but cleaner and with detangled hair.

Besides, Taylor’s nice. And a nice cheerleader is so far out of Max’s experience that there’s no way he can’t take advantage of the opportunity she represents. To see how the other half lives: the popular half, the half that wears bright colors and has pep.

He should take notes. For posterity. There might be a book in it.

Opening the door between his bathroom and bedroom, he checks to make sure the drapes are still shut—of course they are; he hasn’t opened them since he got here—and follows the misty air out into his room, toweling his hair and dripping on the carpet. When he’s more or less dry, he throws his towel onto the bed and starts looking through his closet. Last night, in another uncharacteristic burst of diligence, he actually put all his clothes away. Hung up his shirts and pants and balled up his socks and shit. While he looks, he slaps at his CD player, and fills the room with music from whatever the last CD he had loaded was.

Knowledge by Operation Ivy. Cool.

Catching himself in the mirror as he walks around, his eyes flicker, as they always do, to the triad of scars on his right-side ribs. His fingers brush momentarily over them, from the base of his pectoral to the top of his belly, feeling the bumps and the distressed skin, reading his burns like a relief map.

They’re dry. And kinda rough to the touch.

Shit, he’s been neglecting himself in every possible way, hasn’t he? Habitually forgetting the dermatologist’s instructions is just another symptom.

Well. New state, better habits.

He remembers dumping the aloe moisturizer his mom’s been buying him in the same box as all his other bathroom crap, back when they packed everything up, so that means it must be… ah! Bathroom cabinet.

Still not used to having his own bathroom.

He spreads the moisturizer over the scars, and then over the rest of his torso and along his arms, because it smells nice, all the while looking through his clothes. In the end, he picks basically at random; he’s making an effort, sure, but he has no idea what Taylor likes. More to the point, he has no idea what kind of guy she likes, except what he assumes: massive, hung like a horse, and with a football instead of a brain that bounces around inside his head like a DVD screensaver. And he can’t ever be that, not unless the long-delayed growth spurt Clay’s been promising decides to show up, so why not just pick whatever? All that matters is whether he can move in it, since she invited him over this morning explicitly to work out with her or to help her practice her cheer routines or something. She wasn’t entirely clear about it.

Maybe she was and he just wasn’t paying attention. Too distracted by those bright blue eyes.

Anyway.

An old band shirt.

A pair of board shorts.

Mismatched socks.

And a belt. In which he already poked an extra hole. Because, yeah, shit, he lost weight, and a lot of it. Turns out, if you don’t really eat for over a year and you continue—halfheartedly—to exercise, you lose mass, and a lot of it. All his jeans look like cargo pants now, and his cargo pants are basically unwearable.

Today’s shirt—one of the many he inherited from Clay when he cleared out his closet—is baggy as hell, but it covers his scars and it hides how thin he’s gotten, and the belt holds up his board shorts, and that’s enough. He can exercise in this. He can stand on his hands in this. Hell, he can do cartwheels and somersaults and basically anything you ask of him in this, and he can do the fucking splits, too.

A quick look in the mirror. Yeah, there’s Max. Same as the old Max, the one from New York. But moisturized, and with nicer hair.

It’s fine.

Let’s go see the cheerleader.

* * *

Taylor never wears makeup to work out. Some of the other cheerleaders do, but some of the other cheerleaders are silly bee-yotches who’ve spent the last several years meticulously blocking every pore, and now they have no choice but to slap on the foundation half a tube at a time, lest anyone get a look at their real skin! Taylor, meanwhile, wears it light and only when appropriate, and she cleanses every morning, every evening and after practice, and that’s why she still has the skin of an angel while Meredith looks like the dark side of the moon.

So she doesn’t know why she’s doing her face this morning, except that maybe she still feels gross from last night and wants to look her best. Pretty face, empty mind, like Robyn, her old cheer captain, used to say.

Last night…

Last night!

Ick.

Taylor reaches over and yanks up the volume on her little CD player until J.Lo’s Love Don’t Cost a Thing starts to crackle and distort.

Stupid Gordo! He tried to get her to touch it again, and she’s beyond fed up with telling him she’s waiting until she’s eighteen. And that’s, like, only a month away! She doesn’t know why he’s being so impatient; she’s clearly relayed her parents’ rules around sex, which are that Garrett can do whatever he wants, because he’s an adult—legally, if not mentally—and Taylor cannot, because she is still a child. Also, and this comes specifically from her mom, because nobody wants to have to fight through the anti-choice weirdos outside the family planning clinic. And because good girls are not sluts.

And, no, Gordo, she doesn’t care that the other girls have all done it, because a) if Meredith’s done it, Taylor’ll eat her own pompoms and b) if the other cheerleaders jumped off a cliff, she’d only follow them if they’d managed to form a pyramid at the bottom, and would catch her.

But still he insisted! Ick! It’s like he wants her to get disowned by her parents and have to live under a bridge selling cheers for money, or something.

He insisted and he made her feel gross and she told him to leave and now she’s putting on lipstick, because if he can’t see her, then she’s going to look extra pretty.

It makes sense. Sort of. If you tilt your head and squint. Anyway, he’s off to football camp this week, so she doesn’t have to deal with him again for a while. Maybe he’ll find someone there to touch his thingie, some girl football player who shares his interests. Maybe she can make him come, and he can yell ‘Hut! Hut! Hut!’ at the moment of climax.

The song ends and she stabs irritably at the pause button before the next one starts. This morning’s gone wrong already, and it’s all because she’s sitting here, staring at herself, applying and reapplying lipstick until by rights her lips ought to stick out several miles from her face, and thinking about her stupid boyfriend and the stupid things he wants her to do and—

Reset.

Taylor closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out slowly. Opens her eyes again.

It’s a new day. Gordo’s a part of yesterday, and she doesn’t have to see him for a week. A new friend is coming over and she’s going to get to show him what she can do and find out what makes him tick.

She blots most of the lipstick onto a tissue, ties her hair in a practical ponytail, and skips out of her room. Same room as Max, she remembers, though not precisely. Their houses are identical but mirrored; their bedrooms even face each other! What sucks, though, is that even if they become friends, they won’t be able to do the teen movie thing of talking to each other through their windows; they’re kinda far apart. If Max ever opens his drapes, though, they ought to be able to wave to each other. And maybe yell.

She checks: his drapes are still closed. No wonder he’s so pale.

No, wait; he’s from New York. Don’t they have like five days of sun per year? Obviously he’s just not used to it. Well, that’s job one, then, isn’t it? Get Max used to the Southern California sun! The whole Southern California lifestyle!

He’s going to love it here, she’s certain.

* * *

Christ, even the mornings here are too hot. Good thing he covered himself in deodorant before he left the house, even if it did mean getting gently ribbed by his brother about the effort he’s obviously putting in for this Taylor girl.

He’s not putting in any effort, not really. Not for her specifically. He’s just stopped neglecting himself.

Yeah. That’s it exactly.

He rings the bell, and when the door opens, he’s presented with a face he doesn’t expect. Taylor didn’t talk about her brother much yesterday, except to say he’s a stoner and the most annoying man in the world, but here’s a clean-cut guy with a toothy grin and slicked-back blond hair. If not for his shorts and logo shirt, he could be an office worker, though from what he’s seen, casualwear is de rigueur enough around here that maybe people do go to work in shorts.

But then he comes close enough for Max to see his bloodshot eyes, and it all makes sense.

“Hey,” Garrett says. “You’re the, uh, the, uh, the dude from next door, aren’t you?”

“I’m Max. Garrett, yeah?”

Getting Garrett’s name right seems to delight him. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s me!” He leans down to whisper in Max’s ear, flooding Max’s senses with the smell of stale weed and cool ranch chips. “You’re not fucking my sister, are you? Because if you are… Be careful, dude. Big boyfriend. Big.”

“No plans, dude,” Max says. Yeah. She’s got a boyfriend. Obviously.

“That’s a ‘maybe’, then. Cool. Cool. Cool.” Garrett folds his arms, satisfied that he’s relayed his oh-so-important message. “So come on in! Mi casa es su casa. Mi… sister es su sister.”

Alright. Kinda gross.

Taylor appears from behind Garrett, whacking him with the flat of her hand. “Oh my gosh, Garrett, you slime!” she yells, whacking him again. “Don’t say things like that! And move. Move! Ick!”

She keeps slapping him on the shoulder until Garrett finally catches on, and with a roll of his eyes at Max, he steps aside and walks slowly over to a split square of couches in the living room. He falls into one and stops moving.

“Hi, Max,” Taylor says, huffing a displaced strand of hair out of her face. “I see you’ve met my brother.”

She grabs Max by the wrist and leads him inside, but Max is distracted: Garrett still isn’t moving.

“Is he… okay?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Taylor says without looking, dragging Max into the kitchen.

“He looks dead.”

“Yeah, he does! Unfortunately, it never lasts. Check it out: I made you a smoothie!”

Max’s view of Taylor’s allegedly alive brother is cut off as he enters the kitchen, so he turns his attention to her and finds her posing in front of the open fridge like a game show assistant. Two more of the same metal cups from yesterday are waiting in the door, and now that she has his attention, she pulls one out and hands it to him. He takes it from her, but she doesn’t pull away; instead, she squints at him, leans closer, steadies herself on his shoulder, and bats at his ponytail.

“Max?” she says slowly. “Why is your hair in a rubber band? Correction—” she raises an impertinent first finger right in front of him, “—why is your hair in a rubber band again?”

“Because I don’t want it in my face? And what do you mean, again?”

She snatches the smoothie back from him, re-fridges it, and beckons him. “C’mon,” she says, walking back around the dividing wall. “We’re fixing it.”

* * *

He comments on the way up the stairs that, oh yeah, their houses are the same, just flipped, and Taylor’s about to agree with him—and talk about the extra rooms that were built over the garages that he won’t have at home—before she realizes that, shoot, she just invited Max up to her room! She invited him up to her room and he’s a guy! A guy who isn’t Gordo!

Isn’t that, like, adultery or something?

Eh. Maybe in Utah.

She pauses, her hand on the doorknob, and thinks quickly, thinks like she’s about to be thrown and she’s just realized it’s Meredith who’s going to catch her:

It’s different, right? It’s not like Max is a guy like Gordo, right? He doesn’t seem the type to put his hand on the back of a not-quite-eighteen-year-old’s head and push her down toward his pants.

Because he’s nice. Okay, so they didn’t talk for all that long yesterday, but he is nice, right? A little sad, a little snarky, and a bit of a fixer-upper, but he’s nice. And does she even know any nice guys? Any guys who haven’t openly lusted after her since she joined the squad? Correction: does she know any nice guys who aren’t already (sort of but not really) dating her best friend?

Well, now she knows Max.

And they do share an interest, don’t they?

So there’s no harm, she decides, and lets him into her room.

“Wow,” he says, following her inside, “pink.”

“It’s not that pink,” she says, wondering why she instantly feels defensive about it. She points to the accent wall, the one her computer desk is pushed up against, which she had Dad paint pastel blue because she read that blue is conducive to memory retention. Plus, she’s wanted a skylight ever since she saw one in a movie. Something about looking up at those California-blue skies every morning being super romantic. Unfortunately, because of the attic and all, she had to make do with a not-very-big window and a very blue wall. “See?”

“I stand corrected,” Max says, holding up his hands in surrender. Gosh, he has a sweet smile. Teeth are a little faded looking, though. Don’t they have whitener in New York?

She can fix that. She can fix everything! And that starts with the way his smile fades too quickly, like he can’t have a positive emotion without something in his brain showing up and reminding him, hey, dude, you’re supposed to be miserable. Must be why he likes all those punk bands he was telling her about.

Anyway. She can fix him. Make him happy. Whiten his teeth. Get him to stop tangling up his hair with rubber bands. Get him a girlfriend.

At that last thought, it’s like she borrows Max’s sadness demon. Ick! Shoo! She chases it away and bobs up to him, confirming once again how close in height they are, and then puts a hand on each shoulder and turns him round. He doesn’t resist. Gently, she hooks a finger inside the first ring of the looped rubber band and starts to tease out the hair.

“I can’t believe you use this,” she says as she works and, gosh, his hair is so silky! Yesterday, when he first got here, it was really greasy, like, greasy enough that she could tell from halfway down the backyard—understandable, though, after driving the entire width of the continental United States!—and after his shower it was still only, like, passably clean. Did he wash it especially for her?

She’s not sure she’s allowed the level of excitement that thought generates in her. Kills the sadness demon right off, though.

“What’s wrong with a rubber band?” he says, speaking slowly like he’s in a trance, and it takes Taylor a second to guess why. When she does, she’s glad she’s behind him, or he’d see the huge, adulterous smile that temporarily takes over her whole face. She’s got her hands in his hair. And she is, no need to be modest, super pretty. What guy wouldn’t enjoy it?

Gordo. Gordo wouldn’t enjoy it. He just wants her to touch it.

Ick.

She returns to the task at hand, carefully extracting layer after layer of soft, sweet-smelling jet-black hair from its rubber band prison. To distract herself, because she’s enjoying this a bit too much, she concentrates on answering his question.

“Rubber bands are grippy, Max,” she says. “Your hair will get caught up in it and it’ll get stripped apart. It’ll completely destroy your hair.”

“Oh,” he says. It seems to be all he can manage, so before Taylor lets out the final loop, she gives herself a moment to smile again.

Why is she so loopy around him? He’s just another long-haired punk guy; she could throw a rock from the front room and hit a dozen of them as they drift lazily by on their stickered-up skateboards.

Whatever. A puzzle for later. She turns him round again and takes a step back to admire her handiwork. Smoothing out his locks, billowing them out around his face, she almost forgets to breathe. There really is something about him, something those other rando guys don’t have. Something she thinks Gordo would probably kill to avoid. And it’s more exciting to Taylor than a hundred sweaty football guys. It’s more exciting to her than the memory of Max’s own older brother, whose thick arms and tree-trunk waist had previously seemed so enticing.

In a way, it’s a shame that Clay is Max’s brother. If Clay’s anything to go by, Max is going to gain a good few inches, he’s going to thicken up, he’s going to be a man. And it’s going to happen soon.

So? So that makes this Max special, dummy! A firefly isn’t beautiful because it lasts forever.

“Taylor,” he says, “what’s up?”

Shoot! He noticed! And his hand’s halfway to hers, like he wants to comfort her but doesn’t want to cross a boundary. Which, again, her decision to let him up into her room: vindicated! She shakes her head, grins at him—wow, it’s easy to find a smile when he’s so close to her—and turns him ninety degrees, toward the mirror.

“Why do you tie your hair up, Max?” she asks. “It’s way too gorgeous to not show it off.”

He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror, not for more than a second. Instead he starts gathering up his hair, pulling it tight, away from his face. “It’s not supposed to be gorgeous,” he says. Huh; cryptic! “Do you have a hair tie for me?”

She turns around and quickly finds one on her nightstand. “Here,” she says, pressing it into his hand.

“Taylor,” he says, holding it up, “this is a scrunchie.”

“Yes,” she confirms.

“It’s a scrunchie.”

“And?”

“It’s— Taylor. It’s a scrunchie. A pink scrunchie. Those are for girls?”

“Don’t be a baby,” she says, taking it back. Before he can stop her, she steps behind him, gathers his hair up, and ties a ponytail for him. She twitches her nose in concentration as she adjusts it, making sure it’s dead center, and then taps him on the top of his head. “You can look now.”

“Wow,” he says, turning his head. “That is definitely a pink scrunchie in my hair. And isn’t it a little high?” He reaches up to adjust it, and she bats his hand away.

“Leave it!” she commands, leaning into her cheer captain voice. And, yeah, it is a little higher than he usually ties his hair, but high is better, right? For cheering?

Oh right! They’re supposed to be exercising!

* * *

The Scotts’ backyard is, unsurprisingly, exactly the same dimensions as the one behind Max’s house, except theirs has a pool close to the house and way more intentionality to the foliage. Dad’s already been complaining about the weekends he’s going to lose getting theirs into shape, and Clay wasn’t fast enough getting out of the room when he was looking for volunteers to help out.

It’s nice, though. It’s like a preview of what their place will look like when it’s done. Taylor’s entire house is, actually. Even her room, fully furnished as it is and not merely looming around a single desk and a corner with a guitar in it, is a preview of what his might be like once he’s lived here more than ten minutes. Minus the pink walls, obviously. And all the televisions. The very boxy, very beige televisions.

Huh.

“I just realized,” he says, as he stretches his arms over his head, “you have three computers in your room. Which seems excessive.”

“You just realized?” she replies. She’s got her feet on the grass and her head between them, and either she’s showing off and she’s going to feel that tomorrow, or she’s limber as hell. “We’ve been in the yard for like two minutes and you just realized.” She straightens up and, despite her critical tone, she’s grinning at him, so he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

“I thought they were TVs. I was trying to think if I’d seen a TV that exact shade of beige before.” He copies her move, just to show her he can, and she laughs at him.

Christ. She’s so cute.

“And?” she prompts.

“Yeah,” he says, “no. Which led me to the obvious conclusion: three computers.”

“Well,” she says, “for your information, I have four computers.” When he straightens, to stare incredulously at her, she starts listing them. “I’ve got my main PC and some older ones for testing. I also have a laptop; I wanted to mess with OSX so Dad got me an iBook for Christmas. Don’t give me that look! It’s not fancy. It’s just the base model.”

Max snorts. “That’s not what the look was for, Taylor.”

“It’s the twenty-first century, Max,” she says, sounding suddenly surprisingly pompous. “If you don’t know how to use a computer, you’re going to be left behind.”

“I know how to use a computer; I don’t know how to use four computers.”

“It’s not like it’s hard.”

“Oh my God,” Max exclaims in fake wonder. “Four computers. You’re a nerd!”

“I’m captain of the cheerleading squad. I can’t be a nerd. All I have are esoteric interests.”

“You’re a nerd,” he giggles.

The levity he feels around her! Avery’s the only other person who ever made him feel like this: understood and appreciated. But there’s more here, something he never felt before. Maybe it’s because Taylor’s straight, and therefore, despite her boyfriend, despite Garrett’s assessment of her boyfriend—big—some incredibly stupid part of his brain thinks he has a chance?

Doesn’t matter. He feels good! He’ll take the win.

“I like your shirt,” she says, when they’re done warming up. “Is that your band?”

He laughs, pulling at it to show it off fully. “Not my band,” he says. “This is Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. They’re, uh, well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

Taylor bounces over, takes the hem of the shirt out of his hands and stretches it out all the way, so she can look at it more closely.

“Try me,” she says.

He can smell her perfume or her shampoo or her body lotion or something, and it’s intoxicating, and distracting as hell. Which might be why he babbles a bit.

“Okay, so they’re a punk rock supergroup, formed in San Francisco circa 1995 and still going today. They only do covers, and that’s because they all have their own projects outside the group, like, Chris Shiflett is also in No Use for a Name. Have you heard of him? You haven’t heard of him. Anyway, their first album was all songs from the sixties, seventies and eighties, stuff like Uptown Girl and Rocket Man, and their second album is all show tunes. They did Don’t Cry for Me Argentina from Evita and Science Fiction Double Feature from Rocky Horror, and… What?”

She’s looking at him with the most peculiar smirk on her face, and when he shuts up she broadens it into a delighted smile and says, “And you called me a nerd!”

Wow. Her smile is incredible.

“Uh…” he says, his retort dying on his lips, which he’s suddenly biting, for some reason. God, he’s losing control here.

“I think you were going to say something like, punk rockers can’t be nerds,” she says. “They just have esoteric interests. And then I was going to say something like, you just proved yourself wrong, you’re the biggest nerd that ever nerded, and then you were going to blush even harder than you are right now, and insist we start doing what we came here to do.”

In a daze, he says, “Which is…?”

She lets go of his shirt and prances backward, ultimately transforming her momentum into a perfect backflip and segueing into a full sequence.

“This!” she says, as she lands and spreads her arms out.

Holy shit.

She’s an actual athlete.

And she’s really good.

* * *

On their way back in, Taylor collects the smoothies she prepared for them both, and in her room she digs out her TV—her actual TV; she doesn’t know how Max could have mistaken her computer monitors for televisions since they’re so completely different-looking—from under a discarded pair of jeans and puts on the Disney Channel. Chores done, she flops onto the bed and starts sucking earnestly on her straw. Max, meanwhile…

Max looks adorably about the room for something he can sit on that isn’t her bed. Vindicated, vindicated, vindicated! She’s known him for a day and she’s never felt so safe with a guy. She points with her toe at one of her computer chairs and, moving slowly, he drags it over near to the bed and drops into it, cupping his smoothie with both hands and sipping from it, his eyes on the Boy Meets World rerun. As his exhaustion starts to fade, he makes himself more comfortable, dragging one leg up under his butt and propping the other high enough that he can rest his chin on his knee. Which, like, wow, flexible.

He’s still breathing heavily. But then, so is she.

What a workout! He challenged her like nobody on the squad ever has, like Coach Dale never has, like not even Robyn did, and she challenged him right back! She never knew she could move like that!

She never knew a guy could move like that. The guys on the squad, they’re talented and they work hard, but they’re all kinda bulky, whereas Max moves like…

Okay. So she can never say it to him, ever, because she knows what boys are like, but Max moves like a girl. He’s got grace and speed and just enough power to accomplish everything he needs to and not a drop more. And maybe that’s just what pro gymnasts are like, but Taylor watches every Olympics and she doesn’t think so. He’s just not built like those guys.

Except he will be one day.

Maybe, anyway. Thinking about it, she got a good look at Mom Giordano yesterday, and a decent glimpse at Dad Giordano and the older brother, Clay, and Max takes much more after his mom while Clay looks like a younger and less wide version of his dad. So maybe that means he won’t grow into something like Clay. Maybe that means he’ll stay just as he is. After all, he’s eighteen, and aren’t you basically done at eighteen? Like, sure, other stuff happens, like you lose your puppy fat, and if you’re a guy you start getting hair everywhere—ick—but at eighteen, you’re finished growing, right?

“How tall are you, Max?” she says without thinking.

“Five-eight,” he says automatically.

Well, that’s a lie. “Are you sure?” she asks, reaching out with her foot and rotating his chair to face her.

“I’m five-eight… if I go up on my toes a little,” he admits.

“I knew it!” she exclaims. “You can’t lie to me, Max. You’re an inch taller than me at most, and I’m five foot six and three-quarters.”

“Three-quarters?” he confirms weakly.

She nods at the door frame. “Check the marks.”

Humoring her, he stands, slightly stiffly, and carefully puts his cup on the floor. He walks over to her bedroom door and runs his finger over the notches in the frame. There’s a notch for every one of her first seventeen years, but she doesn’t expect to be making a new one on her next birthday in September, since she’s basically done, too. It’s kinda sad, really; always is, when a yearly ritual ends.

Following an impulse, she jumps up and joins him. She turns him around by the shoulders, the way she did in the backyard, until he’s facing her with his back to the door. She pushes him until he bumps against it, and then she prods at his feet with hers until he’s standing straight.

Without taking her eyes off him, she reaches for the craft knife on her chest of drawers, flicks out the blade, and places her hand on top of his head, to create a straight line to the door frame.

“You stick out your tongue when you’re concentrating, you know that?” he says. She shushes him and carves his notch into the frame.

She doesn’t know why she’s doing this. She barely knows him. They might not end up friends at all. They might not speak to each other after school starts. They might turn out to hate each other! But this feels important. And if there’s one thing she’s learned as a cheerleader, it’s that when something feels right, she should trust it.

“Step away,” she says, and he does so.

The craft knife goes back on the mess of junk, and she opens a drawer—her underwear drawer, which she’s curiously unembarrassed to open around Max—and pulls out her tailor’s tape measure. She unravels it, presses the end against the wall with her toe, and smooths it up the door frame until it reaches Max’s notch.

“There’s a Sharpie on my desk,” she says, keeping everything in place. “Can you get it for me?”

“Sure.”

Moments later, a Sharpie—uncapped; how thoughtful—drops into her waiting hand, and she writes Max, August 3, 2003 — 5 foot 7½ inches on the wall, just above Taylor, September 13, 2002 — 5 foot 6¾ inches.

“There,” she says. “Immortalized.”

She twists around to smile at him, expecting one of his shy smiles in return, but instead he’s retreated back to her desk, he’s got his fists clenched at his side, and he’s standing very still.

“Max?” she asks.

“Shit,” he says, turning away. A hand goes up to his face, as if he’s covering his eyes or something, and that’s just so confusing that she takes three whole steps toward him before she realizes he’s not one of her girlfriends and she can’t just manhandle him because she doesn’t know how he’ll react. And, oh yeah, he’s a guy, and he’s in her room, and he’s been careful not to even touch her so far, and as nice as he’s been, she doesn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

“Did I do something wrong?” she says. She’s making her voice small on purpose, which is a little manipulative, but it is appropriate to how she feels. Max is special, and she doesn’t want to lose him as a friend before she figures out why.

It gets him to turn around, at least. And his eyes aren’t red and his cheeks aren’t wet, so it can’t be that bad. “No,” he says, forcing a smile. “Sorry. It’s just… It’s a me thing.”

“It’s just a stupid mark,” Taylor says. “I can fill it in if you want. I know where Dad keeps the filler.”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I like it. If you don’t mind it there… I like it.”

Okay. Okay. He has an issue about this. But as much as she wants to probe it, as much as she wants to know everything, she refrains. If there’s one thing she’s learned as a cheerleader, it’s when to give a girl her space. Still applies here, even though Max isn’t a girl.

“Let’s keep it, then,” she says, matching his smile. It has the effect she hoped for, which is that his smile becomes warmer and more genuine, and she has to fight very hard not to just bounce forward and hug him. “Hey, Max,” she adds, “you wanna go out? We could go to the mall or something.” She pulls playfully at the hem of his shirt again. “We could even buy you some clothes that aren’t black and don’t have bands on them. And that are maybe your size?”

He laughs, and it seems almost real. “No thanks,” he says. “I’m tired out. Maybe I’ll just go home.”

“Oh, no you don’t, mister,” she says, mom-voicing him hard enough that he steps back. “I have nothing to do today, so you’re going to keep me company. Deal?”

He surrenders instantly. “Deal.”

“So. You smoke weed?”

Darn; she should have waited until he had a drink or something, because the look on his face is absolutely priceless, and she definitely could have gotten him to spray water if she timed it right.

“Uh,” he says, floundering. “Uh. Yeah? I guess so?”

She bounces on her toes. Flustering him is fun. “You wanna smoke weed and get takeout?”

“Sure?”

It’ll be good for him. He needs to talk, get whatever this is off his chest, and Taylor, she needs to listen. And maybe look at him a bit. Maybe look at him a lot. And if there’s one thing she’s learned as a cheerleader, it’s when to stay sober and when to get high.

“Wait one second,” she says, holding up a finger. Then she skips over to her door, yanks it open, leans out, and yells down the stairs, “GARRETT! I’M TAKING SOME OF YOUR WEED! IF YOU TELL MOM I’LL RIP YOUR BALLS OFF AND DROP THEM IN YOUR FISH TANK!”

She turns back to Max, grinning and waggling her eyebrows at him, her hand cupped around her ear for the rejoinder.

“I WON’T TELL MOM IF YOU BRING ME ANOTHER BAG OF DORITOS!” Garrett yells back, probably from the same dumb couch they left him on. “See?” Taylor says to Max. “Told you he wasn’t dead.”

Three

LEGIT AIR

“Look at that,” Taylor’s pointing at the screen. “Look at the air they’re getting! It’s good, right? It’s legit.”

Max nods. It’s not been enough to admit to Taylor that, yes, she’s an incredible athlete and, yes, cheerleading’s legit, and, wow, no shit, captain of the squad, that’s really impressive; she wants to show him, and beyond summoning the rest of the squad and running through their routines right in front of him, the best way to do that turns out to be to drag him over to her computer desk and call up video after video of competitive cheerleading.

The trouble is, he’s having trouble concentrating. It’s not that the weed’s hit him all that hard, because it hasn’t, but between it, the takeout, the exercises this morning and the lingering fatigue from spending almost a week, on and off, in Dad’s cramped car, a portion of his brain keeps insisting it would rather just fall face-first into bed, and resents having to squint at a sequence of blocky videos recorded off of ESPN2.

He’s aware enough, though, to be seriously impressed by what he’s seeing. The shit the girls—and guys; a lot of the squads are mixed—are pulling off is downright incredible.

“It’s legit,” he says, passing the joint.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Taylor says, taking it from him and taking a lengthy drag. “Last one, I promise. See these guys?” She cues up another video. “Their routine is amazing. Just wait until you see the throws at the end!”

On the screen, a squad in green uniforms performs a tightly choreographed routine, and the more he watches them, the more he can’t believe they’re a high-school-age cheerleader squad.

“Tay,” he says, “this shit is ridiculous!”

She beams at him. He’s noticed she likes it when he calls her Tay. Almost makes him want an even shorter version of his name, so they can trade. But only his grandparents call him Maxwell—and his mom when she’s pissed.

“This is from two or three years ago,” she says, grinding the end of the joint into dust in the ashtray. “It was a huge controversy: another squad turned out to’ve been stealing their routines for, like, years, and winning trophies with them. Winning this trophy!” The video shows them being announced as the winners of the tournament, and Taylor stabs emphatically at the screen. “They just never had the money to compete for themselves. But they got the money together, they went all in, and they won. It’s like something out of a movie!”

“That’s… actually cool.”

“Right? It’s inspirational!”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon,” she says, abruptly switching off the monitor. Then she puts both feet on the seat of Max’s chair and pushes him away with enough force that the casters trip on the rug, tipping him right off onto the bed. Judging by the glee on her face, she planned it exactly that way, and it came off perfectly. “Max!” she exclaims, forming her mouth into a perfect O of shock. “I thought you were a gymnast! But there you go, falling off of chairs…”

“I would have been fine—” he starts to protest, but he has to cut himself off when Taylor launches herself at the bed. She lands next to him, bounces a couple of times, and comes to rest leaning on her elbow, grinning at him. “I would have been fine,” he tries again, “if I wasn’t so tired.”

“Jet-lagged?” she says. “No, wait; car-lagged?”

“I hate cars,” he says, counting on his fingers, “I hate motels, I hate small towns in the middle of the country, I hate my dad’s music, I hate how Clay takes up all the space in the back seat…”

“How come you didn’t fly? There are people who can move boxes across the country for you.”

“Money. Cheaper to do it ourselves than pay movers, or so Dad said. Hey, um, Taylor…” He shuffles away from her a little. “Should I be on your bed with you like this? Is this really okay?”

“Why?” she asks, pretending to be afraid. “Are you going to molest me, Max Giordano?”

“What? No!” He recoils even farther just at the thought of it, but she reaches out and rolls him over, bringing him closer again.

“So, chill,” she says. She leans over him—Max tries to compress himself into the mattress so she doesn’t actually touch him—and retrieves the remote for her CD player. She switches it on and dumps the remote on the floor. Something by Alanis Morissette comes on, but he’s only heard that one album of hers, the one that got really big; he doesn’t know this one. Next to him, facing up and with her hands clasped on her belly, Taylor sighs contentedly. “You want to smoke another?” she asks after a short while.

“Sure.”

She nods, sits up just enough to retrieve the baggie of pre-rolled joints she stole from Garrett’s room, and lights one up. She passes it to Max, who takes a deep drag, and when he looks again, she’s gotten another ashtray out from somewhere and placed it between them.

“How many of those do you have?”

“Enough,” she says, and accepts the joint from him. “Mom never cleans in here because I do it myself, and she can’t smell it in here because Garrett’s room always stinks of it, so…” She shrugs.

“Weird to be smoking weed with a cheerleader,” Max says, feeling sufficiently loosened up—by the weed, by his exhaustion, by Taylor’s apparent belief that he’s not the kind of guy who might try to hurt her—to just say shit. “I always thought you guys lived on mineral water and pep and calling all the other girls sluts.”

“Max,” Taylor says, passing back, “I’m going to say something very rude now, and you’ve got to promise me it won’t leave this room. I have a reputation to upkeep.”

Max crosses his heart. “Promise.”

“Your New York cheerleaders sound like stuck-up bee-yotches.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, they kinda were.”

“What about your friend? Avery?”

He laughs. “Yeah, she thinks New York cheerleaders are stuck-up bee-yotches, too.”

“I mean,” she says, giggling, “what kind of girl is she?”

“Gymnast. Lesbian. Oh, and she’s a huge nerd, too.”

“Like you, then,” Taylor says.

“Like you,” Max counters.

A little while later, when the second joint is done and they’re lying on their backs together, looking up at the star stickers on her ceiling, and when Max is feeling more relaxed than he has at any point in at least the last year, Taylor goes and ruins it all—or complicates it all, anyway—by asking the question he’d been hoping she wouldn’t.

“Hey, Max? Where did you get those scars?”

“You saw those, huh?”

Of course she did. You can’t throw yourself around the way he did this morning without your shirt flying all over the place, especially when it’s too big for you by several sizes. He ought to take a leaf out of her book and wear a tight crop top or something. The thought of it, of his belly sticking out of one of Taylor’s pink gym tops, is almost funny enough to make him laugh.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she says. “Really, you don’t.”

He shrugs. He ought to lie, or claim it’s a secret, or otherwise keep it from her, because it isn’t exactly the kind of story you tell to make yourself seem cool in front of a pretty girl, but if she’s going to be his friend, she should know. And if she laughs or thinks less of him, then it’s better to know now, right? Better to be rejected by someone you just met than by someone you’ve known for a long time.

“It was last year,” he says, settling his head into the pillow. He might be telling the story, but he doesn’t want to look at her while he does. He wants to get her reaction all at once, when he’s done. In case it’s bad. Rip off the Band-Aid, etc. “End of the spring semester. I’d never been that popular, but I was never unpopular, either, you know? I was just another kid. And I’d been dabbling in gymnastics a long time already, but high school was where I started really getting into it. Coach thought I had real promise. I wasn’t as good as Avery—she started before me—but I was good. And Coach said I could be great. And I’d never been great at anything before, so I let her talk me into taking private classes. Mom was against it but Dad, in a fit of unexpected parental involvement, persuaded her. And then that was it. School, home, life, it was all about gymnastics. Me and Avery and gymnastics. It was everything to us. Anyway, Coach was right: I was great.”

“I’ve seen it,” Taylor says quietly. “You are.”

“And you’ve seen me after a year of doing nothing more than backyard stuff,” he says. “And we didn’t even have a big yard back home. Since then, since what happened, I’ve lost weight, I’ve lost muscle. I don’t have the stamina I used to. Compared to back then, I’m— Ugh. Sorry. Hard to lose something like that, you know?”

“What happened to you, Max?”

“It was inevitable, really. At school, I wasn’t just some kid anymore. I was a gym fag. I had my special fag gym clothes and I walked like a gym fag and— Well, you know what people are like. Shit written on my locker, guys bumping into me on the stairs and trying to get me to trip and fall. You’ve seen it, I bet.”

“Yeah,” she says. “There are a-holes like that in every school.”

“So, it’s the end of the spring semester last year,” he says briskly, moving the story along as quickly as he can, “and three guys corner me. I thought they were just going to beat the shit out of me, which would have been an escalation, but still, something I could deal with.” His voice is shaking. Huh. “No. Christ, I wish they had. What actually happened was that two of them grabbed me and held me down on the ground and the third, he had this beat-up old Volvo, and he got the cigarette lighter—”

“Oh no,” Taylor breathes.

“Yeah. Pushed it into me three times. And he wasn’t quick, either. He held it there each time. If you’re wondering: incredibly painful.”

“What did you do?”

He can’t help it. He sits up, earlier than he planned, unable to wait for her judgment, but she’s just lying there, watching him, no cruelty or satisfaction evident on her face. She feels for him. It’s obvious. And if it weren’t, the hand that reaches for his would make it pretty clear.

Still, he’s not done with the story yet.

“I didn’t do anything. At first it was because I was in pain, like, monumental amounts of pain, and then I just didn’t want to get up. They didn’t stick around. Just kicked me a bit, taunted me, and ran off. They left me there and ran off. And lying there, Tay, I think I already knew they’d broken me. I think I knew that was it, you know?” He shakes his head. Too much. “Anyway, I didn’t tell the cops or the principal or anything because I still had to go to school for another two years with those assholes and they could have made it even worse for me. So I just… went home. Swallowed Tylenol like candy and wrapped my chest in gauze. Mom eventually saw the burns and freaked and took me to, like, a gajillion doctors, but the best they could do by that point was just tell me to use lotion on them.”

“Does it help?”

“No. Not really.”

Taylor pushes up on her elbows, bringing herself closer, and she lets go of his hand and reaches for the hem of his shirt. “May I?” she asks, and waits for his nod.

It’s light and airy in Taylor’s room, and a breeze ripples over his chest as Taylor lifts up his shirt. He expects her to pull it up only enough to see, but she raises it higher and shoots him a questioning glance, which he interprets—correctly—as a request to raise his arms. She slides his shirt all the way off and drops it on the bed.

“I know,” he says, “I’m skinny.”

Taylor smiles sadly. “No skinnier than me,” she says, which is generous of her. “And I’d say ‘toned’, anyway. Um. Do they hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

He knows how they look in the light; three angry, deep-red scars burned into his chest. Three concentric circles, the skin at its worst where they join. Each one is a memory, a humiliation.

Taylor doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. Caught with one hand halfway to his chest and another halfway to her mouth, she’s frozen in place, her eyes searching him for the answer to a question she seems scared to ask. He nods again, and she touches him. Gently, almost nervously. She traces the outline of the scars.

And then he’s too self-conscious. Not just because of the scars, but because his skin is sallow after so long without sun; because whatever she says about how toned he is, he can see his weakness in her eyes. So he snatches up his shirt and slips it back on.

It breaks the spell.

“I’m so sorry, Max,” she says.

He struggles to regather his usual emotional state, to find again the ol’ reliable ‘Max’ persona, the guy who doesn’t care too much about anything, not the burn scars on his ribs or the friends he’s lost or the fact that his one remaining real friend is now thousands of miles away.

“We used to know each other,” he says, casually tossing it at her like it’s a factoid his mom just read in the Style section of the newspaper. “The guy who burned me. Grew up together.” He knows he sounds flippant, but better that than bare himself again. And she seems to understand. A guy needs his emotional space. “We used to be close. Like kids are, I mean. Back in New York, there’s a room with both of our heights marked on the wall, just like that. Him and me. It was him and me, and then we drifted apart, and when he came back, he did this to me.”

“Oh,” Taylor says, eyes wide. “Oh! That’s why you, uh, when we marked your height, uh…”

“Yeah,” he says, his cheeks reddening. So much for ol’ reliable, emotionless Max. “That’s why it hit me so hard. Kinda brought him back, you know?” He laughs. “I thought I was better at hiding my shit than that. Turns out, I’m really not.”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I see everything, anyway. So you’re just going to have to get used to that.”

* * *

Those burns are vicious. And that level of bullying is something else! Vista Primavera High has its problems, yes, but the worst she’s heard of lately is just normal bullcrap like freshmen getting dumped in the trash or having their lockers vandalized. And that it was done by someone he used to be friends with…

Max Giordano is going to need good friends from now on. Of that, Taylor is absolutely certain.

It hurt him so much to tell her, too. She saw him clam up after. And that’s so accurate, actually! He opened up, just a little bit, just enough for her to see, and then he snapped shut! It took her almost an hour to restore the innocent, fun, almost flirty attitude he had out in the yard, and she wonders if the weed was a bad idea; Max seems like one of those people who get melancholy when they’re high.

It was probably just because she made him relive the memories, though.

He’s also moved farther away from her on the bed. He’s practically falling off! Inevitable, probably. Honestly, you get a guy to admit to having one (1) emotion, and they immediately stop talking at all!

No, actually. That’s unfair. That’s not Max she’s thinking of, that’s Gordo, a teenage boy who can’t wait to be a man, who already considers himself to be what a man ought to be, and Taylor’s not in a rush to spend time socially with people who remind her of her father, thank you very much! She’s tried to tell him, over and over, to just talk to her like he used to. If he did, maybe she’d even get to the bottom of his obsession with sex!

No, wait; that’s also because Gordo is a teenage boy. In a way Max, somehow, is not.

“Hey,” she says, “talk to me, Max.”

“I’m okay,” he insists. He’s regained a little of the slight swagger he had before, the sense that he knows who he is, what he wants. Yes, it’s a lie, or at best a coping mechanism, but it’s a comforting one, for Taylor. There’s a real Max under the front he puts up, and she got to see it.

“Are you sure?” she says.

“Yeah. It’s just… I think you’re the only person I’ve talked to about what happened. Apart from my family. And doctors. And Avery, obviously. You’re the first person since her I’ve chosen to talk to about it. Which is kinda confusing, because I’ve known you for, what, twenty-nine hours?”

“More like thirty-one,” Taylor says, and she bounces on the mattress to bring herself closer. “Avery. You miss her, huh?”

He smiles, and that’s good, right? That’s a genuine smile on his face! Not one of the fake ones he puts on when he knows he ought to be smiling at something.

“I do. She’s been bugging me to talk to her online, but we don’t have internet yet, so—”

“Oh!” Well, there’s a good deed she can do! “I have internet. You want to talk to her right now? I can set it up! It’ll be really quick. Will she be at home on a Sunday afternoon?”

“Um, yeah, I think so,” he says, recoiling a little. Taylor reels herself in a bit. Too much enthusiasm for someone who just finished being a huge downer.

“Come on, then,” she says, bouncing the rest of the way over to his side of the bed—her thigh momentarily grazing his; just an accident!—and hopping off onto the floor. She rolls his chair back over to the computer desk and boots up her main PC again. The fans whirr gently into life—she spent a whole afternoon making sure her computer doesn’t sound like a jet engine, unlike Garrett’s—and by the time Max joins her, she’s looking at the desktop again. “Which client?”

“Which, uh…?”

“AIM, MSN, ICQ…?”

“Oh. AIM.”

Taylor opens AIM, logs herself out, and wheels herself away so Max can sit in front of the keyboard. When he maneuvers himself into position, she swings her chair around behind his and rests her forearms on its back, with her chin atop them. She can see the screen over his shoulder.

It must be a slow Sunday over in New York—three hours ahead, she remembers; Avery’s probably going to be called for dinner in the not-too-distant future—because the AIM window lights up almost instantly with a response.

Maximillion: Hey Avery A-Very-Nice-Person: Holy shit you got internet A-Very-Nice-Person: Did you get cable? Is it fast? A-Very-Nice-Person: We’re stuck on DSL and it’s not fucking dial up at least but I hate it A-Very-Nice-Person: Dad says we can’t get cable again until we pay our cable bill A-Very-Nice-Person: And he is ideologically opposed to paying cable bills as you know A-Very-Nice-Person: Anyway it’s so cool you’re back online I was DYING without you to talk to A-Very-Nice-Person: Max? Are you there? Maximillion: I’m here Maximillion: You just type really fast Maximillion: Chill A-Very-Nice-Person: I refuse A-Very-Nice-Person: ONE of us has to talk

“I like her already,” Taylor says.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Max replies.

Maximillion: Anyway I don’t have internet yet Maximillion: I’m at a friend’s house A-Very-Nice-Person: You made a friend already! That rules A-Very-Nice-Person: Can I embarrass you in front of him yet or are you still in the delicate getting to know you phase A-Very-Nice-Person: Circling the cave and grunting at each other until you establish a firm enough masculine bond to roast and eat a dead stag without trying to kill each other A-Very-Nice-Person: I think that’s how it works with boys anyway Maximillion: When have I ever grunted? A-Very-Nice-Person: I think you could grunt A-Very-Nice-Person: I’m not saying it wouldn’t be under duress A-Very-Nice-Person: But I AM saying it would be adorable Maximillion: Well Avery Maximillion: You’ll be happy to know you’ve already embarrassed me in front of HER A-Very-Nice-Person: ROFL A-Very-Nice-Person: Sorry Max’s friend if you can see this A-Very-Nice-Person: But I’m about to get even worse A-Very-Nice-Person: Deep breath A-Very-Nice-Person: What’s her name is she pretty is she prettier THAN ME and if she is does she like girls and is she open to a long distance relationship Maximillion: You have a girlfriend Avery A-Very-Nice-Person: SHE doesn’t know that

Taylor leans over Max’s shoulder and borrows the keyboard.

Maximillion: Hi! Max’s friend here, Avery, and I’m sorry, but I very much do know that now. Maximillion: Ya blew it. Maximillion: Sorreeeeeeee!!!!! A-Very-Nice-Person: Hey look Max your friend likes punctuation Maximillion: I’ll have you know I have a 4.3 average. Maximillion: I love punctuation. A-Very-Nice-Person: Holy shit Max a 4.3, hitch your wagon to this girl A-Very-Nice-Person: She’ll take you places Maximillion: Okay it’s me again, and I’m doing fine thank you Avery Maximillion: I’ll keep my wagon where it belongs.

“You’re a menace,” Max tells Taylor. She beams at him, and then twists around to get out of her chair.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” she says. “You want something to drink? We have iced tea or water or—”

“Iced tea is fine, unless you have anything like Dr Pepper.”

“I think we might actually have Dr Pepper. You want? Okay! Be right ba-aaack!”

She sings the last word as she skips out of the room, and then she’s down the stairs in a flash. She can’t resist putting a little flourish into it as she rounds the bend from the bottom of the stairs into the living room, because Garrett’s probably still in there, and it annoys him to see her expending so much excess energy. Or moving fast, like, at all.

And there he is, wasting whole days away on the couch. As usual. She sticks her tongue out at him; he gives her the finger. She escapes to look for sodas, but by the time she’s dug them out of the fridge, he’s leaning against the arch that separates the kitchen from the rest of the rooms downstairs.

“Make sure you put the baggie back in my room,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says. “Duh.”

“Make sure you reseal it.”

“Obviously.”

“And make sure you air out your room and—”

“I know, Garrett!”

“Okay! Jesus! I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re starting to get cranky,” she says, maneuvering around him as she exits the kitchen, a Diet Dr Pepper in each hand. “Maybe you should smoke some more.” On her way back up the stairs, she turns and yells, “And then maybe you’ll get turbo cancer and die!”

“I’m your big brother, Taylor!” he shouts after her. “I’m looking out for you!”

“You’re a big pain in my ass!” she shouts back, leaning over the railing so her voice echoes properly. She swoops back into her room, ignoring the grumbling from downstairs, and as she closes the door with her butt, she’s delighted to see Max laughing at something on the screen.

Well, mostly delighted. It would have been nice if it had been her who made him laugh, not this Avery girl, but it’s still good to see.

“Drink up,” she says, placing the can in front of him.

“Diet,” he observes, before opening it and taking a swig.

“I’m an athlete!” She opens hers and presses the cold can against his bare forearm, making him wince and pull away. “And so are you!”

“Thanks, Tay,” he says, grinning at her.

“So? How’s she doing?”

“Avery? She’s good. Same as normal.” He points to the screen, and Taylor swings her chair around behind again, so she can look properly. As she drinks, Max goes back to typing.

A-Very-Nice-Person: It’s going to be weird going back to school without you A-Very-Nice-Person: I’m going to have to get a new best friend Maximillion: At least you won’t have to have the locker next to the one that always has FAG on it anymore A-Very-Nice-Person: What if I befriend a new fag A-Very-Nice-Person: Oh shit am I allowed to say that Maximillion: No but neither am I

Taylor hides her smile behind her Diet Dr Pepper. Definitely not gay, then. Just checking!

A-Very-Nice-Person: Have you seen your new school yet Maximillion: No but I figure any school is like any other school right? Maximillion: Different color metal detectors maybe A-Very-Nice-Person: ROFL depressing A-Very-Nice-Person: Rolling on the floor sobbing my eyes out A-Very-Nice-Person: Leave New York and see the sights in sunny California! A-Very-Nice-Person: Get violated by entirely new rentacops!

“It’s not too bad, actually,” Taylor says, having drained her Dr Pepper already. “We’ve got a couple security guys, but no metal detectors. They keep saying they’re going to beef up security, but so far…” She crosses her fingers.

Maximillion: Taylor says no metal detectors

Taylor borrows the keyboard again.

Maximillion: Taylor here, AND our security guys have cute little name tags and they get fired if they get too handsy. Which HAS happened, so that’s not great, but at least they got fired. A-Very-Nice-Person: You’re leading the nation A-Very-Nice-Person: Also hi Taylor! A-Very-Nice-Person: Max won’t say if you’re prettier than me Maximillion: Just a second, Avery. I can solve that conundrum.

Taylor surrenders the keyboard to Max, but before he can type anything else, she claims the mouse and loads the webcam application. The little camera is still positioned on top of the monitor, pointing down at them, covering what Taylor’s always considered her most flattering angle. “Say cheese,” she says, and puts on a peppy smile, pressing her cheek against Max’s.

In the preview, he looks adorably startled and she looks great, so she saves the picture and drags it into the AIM window.

A-Very-Nice-Person: Oh shit she IS prettier than me A-Very-Nice-Person: How depressing A-Very-Nice-Person: You see it right Max A-Very-Nice-Person: You see how she’s prettier than me Maximillion: Avery Maximillion: You realize I’m stuck now don’t you? Maximillion: I can’t say you’re prettier than Taylor because she’s right here Maximillion: And I can’t say the opposite either Maximillion: Whatever I say I’m doomed

“Duh,” Taylor says, giggling. “You say we’re both beautiful.”

A-Very-Nice-Person: Repeat after me, Maxxy: “You’re both pretty.”

“She makes a good point,” Taylor says.

Maximillion: There’s an echo in here. Maximillion: Taylor said the exact same thing you did. A-Very-Nice-Person: Well yeah A-Very-Nice-Person: All of us are taught this as children A-Very-Nice-Person: We get secret classes A-Very-Nice-Person: How to make boys uncomfortable is like the first lesson A-Very-Nice-Person: It’s our main weapon in the battle of the sexes A-Very-Nice-Person: That and mace

“I have some Mace,” Taylor whispers, “if you ever need some. I have spare, I mean.”

“Why would I need Mace?”

“Don’t know. But just in case. I’ll bring some over.”

“Don’t bring me Mace, Taylor.”

“Just in case!”

* * *

Max isn’t exactly late for dinner, but he needs to shower to get rid of the weed stink, and since it’s also his turn to set the table, he’s going to be cutting it really close. So he barges in through the front door at full speed, yells out that he’s here, that he’ll be down in a minute, that he just needs a shower, and he makes it to the stairs without either of his parents getting a chance to intercept him and yell at him about timekeeping, about the watch his Aunt Gabriele got him, about how it keeps perfect time, about how he should wear it more, and about how he knows when dinner is and when to be home for it.

See? He doesn’t even need to be yelled at; he’s got the script memorized.

He doesn’t make it to his bedroom entirely unscathed, though. Clay’s in his room with his door open, and he calls out as Max passes. Panting, Max stops in the doorway, leaning on the frame with both hands.

“Yeah?” Max says.

“Nice girl, is she?”

“Yeah.”

“Girlfriend?”

“What? No. Clay, we’ve been here a day.”

“You moved on Avery pretty quick back home.”

“We weren’t— Never mind. I need a shower.”

“Good idea.” Clay wafts a hand in front of his nose. “And wash those clothes yourself.”

“Uh, yeah, I will.”

As Max turns to leave, Clay says, “Nice scrunchie, Max.”

“What? Oh. Shit.”

“You wearing it to dinner? So Mom and Dad can get a good look at it?”

“Uh. No. Definitely not.”

“Okay then.”

Max makes his escape.

It’s annoying to have to wash his hair twice in one day, but hair’s worse than clothes for retaining weed stink, and as much as he could pass it off as an unfortunate byproduct of existing in the presence of Taylor’s stoner brother, he doesn’t want to take the risk; Mom’d probably go over there to complain about Garrett’s corrupting influence. And the shower gives him the opportunity to think, too.

About Taylor.

He let her touch his scars. And something about that felt right. Felt like it demystified them somehow. Like Taylor claimed them, and in doing so, released their hold on him just a little. He’s not going to start going topless, but maybe by bringing them so completely into his new life, into a new friendship, she’s begun a process which might eventually sever their connection to his past.

Yeah. He kinda likes that.

He also likes that Taylor and Avery get along. They chatted for a while, switching the keyboard back and forth, until Avery had to go for dinner. She and Taylor exchanged details, and then it was just Max and Taylor again. Watching TV. Talking about nothing. Talking about everything.

She’s relaxing to be around. She’s a lot smarter than he originally assumed she would be, which is on him. Making assumptions. Like a girl can’t be bubbly and peppy and test well!

He smiles as he soaps himself up. Her words in her voice. Different to Avery’s—basically two exact opposite points of the female vocal range—but not shrill and whining like he always expects cheerleaders’ voices to be.

“Wow,” he says to himself, imitating Taylor. “Prejudiced much?”

They talked about birthdays. She has one coming up, and he is of course invited to her eighteenth on September 13. He told her he had a birthday recently, but that he didn’t really celebrate it, just hung out with Avery as usual. The confession brought the mood down again. It didn’t last, though, and to change the subject, she showed him her hand-annotated copy of the squad routine book and talked him through what cheerleaders do that gymnasts don’t. When it was finally time for him to go home for dinner, it was with the knowledge of what flyers, bases and spotters are, what they do, and how disastrous it can be when any of them fuck up.

In all, his second day in California could have gone a lot worse. Though it’s weird that Taylor hasn’t mentioned her boyfriend even once yet.

* * *

He’s so dumb! So adorably, annoyingly dumb! He wants to do gymnastics. He’s desperate to get back to it! She could see it in the way he hungrily watched the cheer routines she played for him, and in the rapt attention he paid when she was showing him the cheer book, but he won’t do anything about it! And, okay, Vista Primavera High doesn’t have a gymnastics team, so he can’t do it at school, but he can take classes or something! He can do it on his own time! But no, instead he’s just going to try to keep up with the basics in his backyard—or in hers—and leave it at that.

But he’s also not dumb, and she knows why. He doesn’t want to be the ‘gym eff ay gee’ at another school. He wants to keep his head down and graduate and go to college. And eventually, it went unsaid, he’ll become more like his brother—because he will, Taylor’s wishful thinking notwithstanding—and he’ll either have to learn everything again from scratch—and never again be as good as he was—or he’ll give it up forever.

It was itching on the tip of her tongue all afternoon: join the squad! She wanted so much to say it! And he’d be amazing! He’s better than her at the technical stuff, even if she’s fitter and can last longer, and the other stuff, the cheer-specific stuff, she could teach him, no trouble. Eddie could teach him the guys’ role in the squad. And he’d make them better in turn! They could learn so much from each other!

But she didn’t say it, because she can’t. Because he’s the wrong size and shape. Their routines—their very squad—assume a certain size and shape of guy. Eddie is six foot one and closer to Gordo than Max in physique, and the other guys on the squad are similar; there’s no role for Max there. And while in theory he could take up the same role as one of the girl bases, or even be a flyer if he starts working on his core again, since he can already land like a champ… he’d never agree to it. Being a guy doing girl stuff on the cheer squad is probably significantly worse than being a gym eff ay gee.

Shoot. She’s so close to a solution that helps them both, but there’s no way she can make it work!

Taylor shakes her head and jumps up from her bed, aiming to call for takeout before Garrett gets a chance to order the greasiest and most disgusting food he can find in the big pile of menus in the kitchen. On her way past the computer desk, the picture of her and Max, the one she took with her webcam and sent to Avery, catches her eye.

It makes her smile. Warms her stomach. Because they look like such good friends already!

But what’s weird is that with the low resolution of the webcam, with the fat pixels obscuring the finer details of his face, with the angle the picture was taken from, he looks kinda like a girl.

He looks kinda like a pretty girl.

Taylor stares.

Like a really pretty—

“Taylor!” Garrett calls from downstairs. “I’m ordering food!”

Shoot!

She shakes her head and runs to the door. “Oh no you don’t!” she yells, and starts down the stairs, flexing her fingers, preparing to rip the phone right out of his stupid stoner hands before he orders something with more oil by volume than an entire KFC, and kick him if that doesn’t seem like enough.

* * *

Monday goes by quickly. Max showers, dresses in loose clothing he can move in, and goes over to Taylor’s. They exercise together. Taylor shows him more of her cheerleader moves and tries to give him an idea of how they work with more than one person, but it’s difficult to imagine. She says she should get her friend Willa over, because she’s on the squad and can help Taylor show him, if he’s interested. He says he’s fine just imagining for now.

Then it’s back upstairs to chat and watch TV. She will take him shopping one day, she says, but she’s going to give him more time to get acclimated before she subjects him to the malls here. They hang out, they talk to Avery a little more together, Taylor still doesn’t mention that she has a boyfriend—he’s been noticing more and more how she doesn’t talk about him—and then it’s dinner time and he’s got to go home.

And just when he’s getting excited at the thought of doing it all over again tomorrow—and reveling in the feeling of actually looking forward to something for once—his mom drops the bombshell: on Tuesday, they’re having a family day. They’re going to go out together and look around the stores and have a nice lunch somewhere, so he needs to get his sunscreen and some nice clothes and be ready to go out at nine in the morning sharp.

As Taylor would say, ick!

They got the cable TV and internet connected while he was out, though, so after dinner he sets up his aging computer and messages Taylor on AIM to tell her he can’t come over tomorrow. She’s sad—and annoyed that it’s not going to be her who introduces him to the shopping here—but she gets over it, and they end up talking well into the night.

* * *

“Yeah, and he can’t come over today. His parents want a ‘family day’, which basically means they’ve kidnapped him and his enormous brother and they’re going to drive all over town and go shopping and eat out and because they’re from New York they’re probably all going to die of heatstroke on the steps of Spring View Mall twenty feet away from the air conditioning and I’m bored, Willa!”

“Whoa! Okay. Take it easy, Tay. Start again. Who is Max?”

Taylor winds the phone cord around her little finger. “He’s this boy—”

“No, no, I understood that part. I mean, why are you so into him?”

“I’m not into him! He’s just— He’s nice, Willa. He’s a nice guy. Do you know any nice guys? Apart from Eddie, I mean.”

“Apart from Eddie? No. I know plenty of only mildly offputting guys, if that helps.”

“It extremely does not.”

“Fair,” Willa says.

“Willa, he’s super sweet and you have to meet him! So what I was thinking is, he had his eighteenth like a week ago, just over, and he didn’t even do anything for it! So I thought about a surprise party—you know how much I love surprises—but he’s kinda gunshy. So then I thought, what about us? Like, the four of us? You and Eddie and me and Max. Tomorrow night. Over here. Garrett can get us drinks and we’ll have a little birthday party! For Max!”

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘uh-huh’?”

“Me and my boyfriend and you and your…”

“Max, yes.”

“You and your Max.”

“No! Just me and Max. He’s not mine…” She probably shouldn’t sound so wistful.

“You have a boyfriend, Taylor! Remember Gordo? Big guy. Linebacker. Very straight nose.” Over the line, Willa giggles. “Very straight guy in general.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“Didn’t you say he’s not gay?”

“He’s not! He said so!”

“He just, like, came out and said it?”

On her kitchen stool, Taylor squirms. “Not directly. But we were talking to his friend from New York and they were talking like he’s not gay. He even said he’s ‘not allowed’ to say the word; you know, um, eff, ay—”

“You don’t need to spell it, Tay.” Willa breathes heavily into the phone. “So. He’s not gay. And he’s not like Gordo. What is he like?”

“I don’t know, Willa! He’s… He’s sweet and he’s sensitive and he’s kinda… He’s Max, Willa. Max.”

“You’re saying his name like you think it’s helping your ‘not into him’ case.”

“Is it?”

“No.”

“No fair,” Taylor whines.

“You’re lusting, Tay.”

“Am not!”

“Does he know he’s got no chance?”

“…No? Yes? Maybe? But I don’t want that from him, Willa. I want a friend. I want him to be more like how you are with me, not like how Gordo is with me. I think. Shoot, I don’t know. Stop asking confusing questions.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’ll come to your party, Tay. I’ll wear something nice and I’ll bring Eddie and I’ll meet your new best friend and we can do the birthday thing. Just promise me it won’t be weird.”

“Zero weirdness. I promise. Willa, you’re the best.”

“I know. And—”

“Shoot! Doorbell! Gotta go!”

She could probably have made it to the front door without having to hang up, because the kitchen phone has a really long cord, but if she kept Willa on the line she was going to keep asking those uncomfortable questions, and they’re not anything Taylor wants to address right now. She’s on the fourth day of her friendship with Max and she still doesn’t know exactly what she wants from him, only that she wants something, and it’s definitely not what she wants from Gordo.

She’s still frowning at the thought of it when the doorbell goes again, reminding her why she hung up in the first place. Irritably she rushes to the front door and yanks it open.

Shoot.

“Gordo!”

“Hey, babe!”

He yanks her into an embrace she has no chance of getting out of unless she wants to get violent, so she waits for him to get done before she says anything else. And then he plants a kiss on her mouth as he releases her, so she has to wait that out, too.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, when finally she can. “I thought football camp was—”

“It’s not ‘football camp’, Tay, I keep telling you.” He starts taking the stairs two at a time, and Taylor has to admit that for all that he can be, well, annoying and persistent, he has a great body. And it’s a reactive body, too. He moves a muscle in his arm and it’s like a butterfly flapping its wings; somewhere on the other end of his body, another muscle moves with it. “It’s an intensive week-long training regimen overseen by—”

“If it’s so intensive,” she says, climbing the stairs after him, “then why are you here?”

“I missed you, Tay!”

He punctuates her name by swinging open the door to her room. She follows him inside, allows him to shut the door, and when he sits down on the end of her bed she chooses one of the computer chairs, rolling it into the center of the room.

“No, seriously,” she says. “Why are you here?”

“Coach gave us the afternoon off and it’s only sixty miles and I wanted to surprise you, Tay!”

She reaches forward to swat him on the knee. “Gordo! You know I hate surprises!”

“I know, I know,” he says, “you like everything to be organized and in its place—” he mimes typing on an invisible typewriter, which is seemingly how Gordo thinks you organize yourself, “—but you’re not doing anything today, are you?”

“No,” she admits.

“So?”

“Fine,” she says, stepping up from her chair and over to him. He rises to meet her, circles an arm around her waist and dips her, and the shiver that involuntarily passes through her isn’t entirely unwelcome. Enough that when she comes up, flushed, she’s ready for more. But she has to set the ground rules, first. “No sex stuff, though.” She holds a finger up to his face, which is tricky because of how close he’s holding her. “Okay?”

He kisses her again and releases her. “Yeah, Tay, I got it. I can wait a month. Hey, you wanna go out on your birthday, just the two of us, and celebrate?”

“I have a party on my birthday, Gordo. You know that!”

“Okay. Day after?”

“That’s a Sunday, and we have school the next day. We’ll do something the Friday after, okay?”

Gordo nods, grinning expansively. “Perfect, Tay, just perfect. I can’t wait. I mean, I can wait. And I will wait. But I can’t.”

“Understood, Gordo.”

“And— Oh, hey, what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

And that’s when Taylor realizes she should have been so much more careful, that she shouldn’t have let Gordo come up here—not that she had much chance of stopping him—and that maybe she should start applying the same ruthless organization and forward planning she uses for school, cheerleading and Gordo to the rest of her personal life, because he’s over at the door, looking at the latest addition to the height marks carved into the frame.

“Tay,” he says slowly, “who’s Max? Is he a guy? Did you have a guy in your room?”

Strangely, he doesn’t sound mad. At least, he doesn’t sound like he usually sounds when he’s mad. His voice is too steady. Somehow that’s even scarier.

“No guys, Gordo,” she says quickly, because it’s what he needs to hear. “Promise.”

“So who is he?”

Looking quickly around her room for inspiration, Taylor’s eyes land briefly on the computer, and she remembers the webcam photo she took. How the low-quality camera basically erased the wispy dark hairs on Max’s upper lip and softened his features. Made him look different.

“Max is a girl,” she says. “Maxine. She’s a friend and she was visiting. We were just messing around.”

“I don’t know a Maxine,” Gordo says, still frowning.

Taylor quickly reaches for some facts she can use to anchor the lie. “She just moved here. She starts at our school in the fall. She’s nice, Gordo.”

“Cool,” he says, nodding. “Cool.” And then his grin returns as if it had never left. “Is she hot?”

“Yes,” Taylor says, “she’s hot, but you’re taken, you idiot!”

He holds up his hands in fake surrender and edges around the room, pretending to back away from her. “I get it, I get it, don’t attack me!”

Gordo’s still backing away, and he bumps into the computer desk, knocking the mouse and deactivating the screensaver, and Taylor wishes desperately for a do-over of the last few days, or at the very least, the last few minutes.

She left the webcam picture up on the screen. She had it up last night when they were talking—just to look at—and she never turned off her stupid computer because she was too tired, and she couldn’t even hear it when she woke up because it’s so freaking quiet, and now Gordo’s looking at Max, and—

“Oh, hey,” he says. “Is that Maxine? She is hot.”

How to Fly, book one of When You Fell from Heaven, which comprises the first ten chapters of the story, is available:

On Amazon, for Kindle and in Paperback.

As an ebook from these online stores.

Or from Itch.io.

Or you can read all current chapters on my Patreon! Subscribing to my Patreon at the $5 tier will get you all fifteen chapters (so far) of When You Fell from Heaven. You will also get access to my ongoing stories The Catch, a forced-fem riff on Fifty Shades with illustrations by Emory Ahlberg, and Kimmy, a horrifying take on the Halloween costume that won’t let you out. And you’ll get the full epub of the revised version of Show Girl, my egg-cracking trans romance, and access to chapters of The Sisters of Dorley two weeks early!

[the20thangel]

Sweet Bliss in the Abyss

This was a request from @ithilwen-aranel

Prompt:  I need a fic where reader is a Targ princess and dragon rider and a known fierce warrior, like Visenya reincarnated level warrior but nobody knows that she has sleep paralysis. So she's marching with House Blackwood to Harrenhal and it's nighttime so they're in tents and her and Benji's tents happen to be next to each other. So that night she gets an attack/episode and he hears her muffled cries and sobs and he helps her get out of it and he finally sees the girl inside the warrior and he comforts her by showing that he has vulnerable sides too and stuff.

This is my take on the prompt, I hope you enjoy this story while I continue working on my next chapter for my series The Dragon and the Raven. @ithilwen-aranel I hope I did justice to what you imagined.

CW: Sleep Paralysis symptoms and vision.

word count: 1566

Saenaera huffed while dueling with two knights from House Tully; she was bored by this mediocre duel. These knights were supposed to help her mother reclaim her throne, but they were two boys trying to show off their fancy stances and practiced skills. In war, there is no room for such pretty and flashy shows. Knocking both men to their asses, Saenaera darkly chuckled. 

“I think that’s enough; you all are too feeble for my taste.” grunted the princess as she watched the men run away from her. 

Saenaera looked around and saw that everyone lowered their eyesight or walked away, not wanting to be the pick of the princess aire. Saenaera snorted as she walked away in disappointment; her father would not be pleased. Saenaera knew she was not what the lords expected from a princess. People always liked to compare her to Queen Visenya; both were no-nonsense, fierce warriors and had little patience for foolish men. Like her father, Prince Daemon, and grandmother, Alyssa, she preferred to be on dragon back and training with swords instead of batting her pretty little eyes and reading songs and poems. Song and Poems were not what would win the war from her stupid and fat usurper of an uncle. They had one more day left before reaching Harrenhall, and the journey was taking a toll on her. 

She knew how crucial her position was in leading these men to Harrenhall; with the risk of Vaghar in the air, they needed another strong dragon rider ready to face the giant dragon. Who better than her and her dragon Aegarax, previously known as The Cannibal? Her boy was misunderstood and needed a bond to help ease his mind back to stability. She understood him, and he understood her. 

She had her secrets that not even her mother knew about. During the night, when everyone should be sleeping peacefully, she had visions, terrifying ones that paralyzed her. They were so vivid and heinous, and all she could do was lay there. She has tried everything to eliminate these visions or at least break from them during the process, but nothing has seemed to work. The only remedy has been drinking a special tea that Maester Gerardys has given her in Dragonstone. Being away from home made her worried that the visions would start again. 

Saenaera shook her head from her thoughts, not wanting to dwell on them, when she noticed that from away from the crowd of knights in the training yards was a young man, alone, practicing. She stood there to take in the sight. What a sight, indeed! This man wasn’t like the others who liked to show off their skills like peacocks. No, he swung his sword with fierce precision. From where she stood, she could see his face; he wore a rabid grin, and his eyes swirled like a storm. Intrigued, she walked closer and clapped to make her presence known. Once her claps resounded, the young man froze before quickly turning to her, causing him to trip on his feet. Saenaera laughed; how could a man so precise earlier just go to a boy tripping over his feet? 

The young lord’s eyes widened and he quickly bowed to the princess.

“No need for that, my lord. I’m terribly sorry for breaking your focus, but I just had to express how impressive you are with the sword,” stated Saenaera as she walked closer. 

The young lord paled a little, “Thank you, my princess. It is an honor hearing that from you.” 

The princess smiled, extending her arm to him, “You are most welcome, Lord…” 

“Lord Benjicot Blackwood, from Raventree Hall, my princess. Please just call me Ben or Beni; my name is a mouthful to say.” Benji awkwardly chuckled as he clumsily kissed the princess's hand. 

Saenaera giggles, finding it surprising and endearing: “Well then, you may call me Naera, for my name is also a mouthful to say. 

As they returned to the camps, Naera asked why Benji wasn’t with the rest of the knights when she was dueling with them. Embarrassed, Benji scratched his head, stating that he preferred training on his own, not liking the numerous stares, and expressing how many of these knights preferred to flaunt their skills than train, and he had no patience for that. Naera nodded, completely agreeing with the Lord of Raventree Hall. Once they returned, the Lord and Princess noticed that their tents were neighbors as they bid each other goodnight. 

In the dead of night, the camp was silent; with the fire crackling, everyone was asleep, enjoying the lulling dreams… all except for one. Just like how she worried, Naera lay there as another vision took hold of her. This was a new vision and a grotesque one. Two monsters were slithering towards her, and she couldn't help but notice how the faces resembled Prince Aemond and the usurper Aegon. A weird and horrifying distortion of their faces with their grins running from ear to ear and long serpent-like tongues laughing as they came closer and closer to her. She tried screaming and kicking anything to wake her body up and reach for her sword, but nothing happened. She hated this feeling of helplessness as she could do nothing. As they reached her, a tongue ran up her face. She felt disgust as she tried again to wake, and it seemed that the gods took pity on her as she jumped up, finally waking to gasp and crying, trying to claw the ugly sensation out of her face. Turning wildly, looking for the two beasts, but they were gone. Naera couldn’t help but bring her legs towards her as she tried to muffle her sobs; this vision was the worst one yet. 

Unbeknownst to her, Benji was waking after hearing the commotion coming from the next tent. Benjicot was always a light sleeper, so the princess's noises quickly awakened him. As he listened, his heart dropped to his gut, thinking that she was being attacked as he quickly jumped from his bed, grabbed his sword, and ran into her tent. Once he barged in, he quickly scanned the room for the intruder, but there was no sign of anybody else, just the princess curling to a ball in her bed, silently crying. Benji dropped his sword beside the bed as he tried to check for harm to the princess. Naera, feeling hands touch her, made her gasp and try to strike the attacker before noticing it was just Benjicot. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ben. I did not mean to strike you.”  She quickly apologized, reaching for his scarlet cheek. 

Benji took the princess’ hand and stared into her lilac eyes. “Are you alright, my princess? Were you attacked?” 

As the princess shook her head, Benji sighed in relief before dropping her hand. But Naera, still raw from the vision, just sobbed again and reached for the young lord. Causing Benji to freeze as he felt the princess curl to his chest. He gathered her into his arms and slowly rocked, trying to bring comfort. After what seemed like an hour but was a few minutes, the princess finally stopped her tears and apologized. 

“No need, princess, I am happy to bring comfort, but what happened? Did someone try to attack you?” questioned Benji worryingly. 

Naera froze. How could she explain what she saw to somebody? They would assume she was crazy or, worse, believe that she was cursed or possessed, just as Green Queen would happily spread. Nonetheless, she felt that she owed Benji an explanation, seeing his worried face as he waited for her response. 

“No, I wasn’t…attack… it was just a horrible…nightmare,” she finally settled on what to say. “It just felt so real…” she further explained as she closed her eyes tightly. 

Benjicot wrapped his arms around the princess, trying to bring comfort. Nightmares, no matter how old you are, can always be terrible, so to have such a fearsome princess reduced to tears, the nightmare must have been truly terribly. After a beat of holding her, Benjioct loosened his hold and helped the princess lay back. Once she settled and her breathing relaxed, Benji stood, turning to return to his bed. Before he could even take a step, an arm stopped him. Turning, he saw the beautiful princess look at him with doe-like eyes, and her lips quivered. 

“Please, stay…” she whisperly pleaded to him. 

Benji's heart flipped as he looked at the sight. He nodded and moved to lay in the bed next to her, bringing her into his arms. She cuddled closer to the young lord, placing her head on his chest, sighing as she felt his arms tighten around her waist.  Benji lay with his princess, running his fingers through her silky pale waves, taking the liberty to kiss her head softly, chastely.  After a few more minutes, the princess’s breath even out, relaxing enough in the arms of the Lord of House Blackwood to fall back asleep. Having felt the princess’s breathing, Benji soon also relaxed, leaning his head on the lush pillows as he was lulled asleep with the warmness of the princess in his arms. The two, a lord and a princess, could go back soundly to the realm of dreams, taking comfort from each other as they continued the night, sleeping in each other's warm embrace.

[dilfl0v3rss]

Ouuuu you write angst? can we get an angst drabble with one of the aot men but it's a happy or petty ending for us and not for them

here i go here i go here i gooooo🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

“ian ready for no relationship.” the excuse of excuses. the words that were always thrown your way after you’d try to convince your little “fling” that you wanted to be more. eren stood up, zipping his pants before grabbing his hoodie and heading out your dorm room. your situation was…complicated. well not really. you grew very attached to this man, looking for him at parties, going to every single one of his games, giving him your notes so he wouldn’t fail and get kicked off the team, and letting him fuck you whenever he wanted.

you were practically dating. or that’s what you thought. eren saw you as just another pretty little thing to keep his grades up and his dick wet. using you constantly while labeling it at love to keep you coming back for more. “b-but why ren?” eren dropped his shoulders, sighing before he walked back to you and raised your chin with his fingers. “you know the rules pretty. cant be tied down worrying about a girl during the season. when all of this craziness is over then we can work sum out.”

a smile bloomed on your face as you looked at eren in complete adoration. you couldn’t wait for the season to end so you could finally be with the man you love. your friends seen you as a complete idiot and they had no problem trying to shut down your delusions. “girl what don’t you get? as soon as the season ends he gon drop you like a bad habit.” “yea he’s lying to you baby.”

you shook your head as your friends annie and sasha tried to speak some sense into you. “he wouldn’t do that to me. h-he lo-” “he doesn’t love you and m’gonna prove it.” before you could reply annie pulls out her phone, clicking historias instagram story to show you what she posted in her close friends. there eren was, laying his head on her stomach with his arms wrapped around her as the rest of his body laid snug between her legs. the caption reading ‘pussy put his ass to sleep🤣’.

your eyes instantly welled with tears as you watched eren, your eren be with someone else the same way he’d be with you. annie was contemplating telling you for awhile. hoping that you’d come to your senses on your own without having to get hurt, but she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. “w-why would he-” “because historias dumber than a bag of rocks and she doesn’t mind sucking and fucking a dick that’s been in half the campus.” sasha spit.

annie wiped your tears with a napkin from her purse before standing up with you on the quad bench. “fuck him furreal. there’s so many guys that have been tryna get at you, but you’ve been oblivious to them because of eren.” you nodded your head, acting as if you were agreeing but you were really heartbroken. the three of you said your goodbyes and you went back to your room. tears flooded your pillowcase as you thought about what you had just witnessed.

you were being played by the one person you wanted. you weren’t the type to dwell on things so you decided to just leave him alone. praying that one day he gets what he deserves, but right now you wanted nothing to do with him. weeks went by since you’ve last talked to eren. he wasn’t suspicious of it since he’d usually only talk to you when he needed something anyways. covering up his absences with “practice” to keep you from pestering him.

the first couple of days were hell. nonstop crying and constant reminiscing were what filled your mornings and nights. saying you missed him was an understatement. you felt like you couldn’t live without him. you’d see him after him games, flirting with girls while looking around to make sure you weren’t watching. when he felt that the coast was clear he ended up taking one by the hand and leading her into the locker room with him.

that was your breaking point. you practically ran to your room with tears soaking your cheeks. you wanted absolutely nothing to do with this man anymore. packing all of the clothes he left there and putting them in a trash bag before throwing it outside. you were finally washing your hands of this man and your friends couldn’t be prouder. comforting you whenever you needed but also trying to get you out there more so you can finally replace that piece of shit.

as annie said, a lot of guys have tried to get at you and instead of shooting them down like you usually did, you gave one a chance. you and reiner have gotten pretty close over the last few weeks. texting almost everyday, eating lunch together, and sharing your favorite books with each other in the library as you studied. he was sweet and charming.

always paying for your lunch no matter how many times you’ve tried to return the favor, walking you all the way to your dorm after a particularly late study sesh, and holding your hand when the two of you would cross the street. he mostly did that for his enjoyment, but you didn’t mind.

the two of you weren’t dating, but your friends thought you were, given that one was barely seen without the other. “where’s your boo suge.” sasha would say when you finally hung out with your girls after three long weeks. “hush uppp. we just talking.” annie, sasha, and pieck busted out laughing before pieck leaked some information to you.

“girl you know we seen you getting your back blown out in the back of his jeep right?” your hands flew to your mouth as you gasped in shock. “yupp. saw him pulling your hair and allat right in our dorm parking lot.” sasha said as you covered your face in embarrassment before mumbling into your hands. “ooouuu yall so nosey i could strangle all three of you right now.” annie scoffed as she pulled your arms from your face.

“you think we’re dumb? you’ve been ditching us every chance you got. and when you do decide to finally hang out with us for a little, you come with a bunch hickies and a pimp walk.” all of you laughed at her last comment. rolling your eyes before checking your phone. speak of the devil.

rei🌻

‘got everything ready for movie night!’

‘waiting on you now mama💛’

you looked up from your phone, instantly getting pissed off looks from your friends. “don’t even say nun. go be wit your man. enjoy it too because this weekend you all OURS. you hear me?” you giggled as you stood from your spot on sasha’s beanbag chair. “i hear youuu. love yallll!!” each of your friends replied with “love you toos” before you left to go spend time with reiner.

“aight i got nightmare on elm street and i got fri-” “princess and the frog” reiner chuckled as you looked up at him. sitting on his bed in nothing but his t shirt that you changed into as soon as you got there. “we watched that last time princess. you said you’d let me switch it up.” pink lip jutting out in a pout at he looked at you with sad eyes.

you laughed, watching this huge man with black ink dancing around his arms and chest being such a softy for you. his sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he situated himself under you on the bed. “okay then coco. i love un poco locoooo” a groan flew from his lips as he rolled his eyes at your choices. “no more disney. if i hear another song ima rip my ears off.”

the two of you ended up settling on john wick, but that didn’t really matter since it was one thirty minutes into the movie where you found yourself sleeping soundly on his chest. straddling him with your head in the crook of reiner’s neck as he played games on his phone. he was thinking about asking you to be his girlfriend soon, but he didn’t know how or when to ask.

the sound of your phone snatched him out of his thoughts. looking at the screen in disgust as he read the contact on the screen.

ren ren💚

‘yo. you up?’

he seen the name pop up and instantly got heated, knowing what he’s done to you. he made quick work to delete his number before replying.

you

‘yea what’s up?’

347-***-****

‘miss you mama🤧’

‘let me pull up on you’

“the nerve of this guy” reiner thought as a quick idea came up into his head. first he checked on you, making sure you were still deep in your slumber before taking a picture of your sleeping figure on his hard chest. sending it with a smirk as he watched erens typing bubble pop in and out of the chat. reiner dropped the phone back on the bed, figuring he just wasn’t going to answer until he heard a bunch of vibrations start coming in. texts popping up left and right and he scrolled through each of them.

347-***-****

‘wyd y/n?’

‘man you so lame for that fr’

‘how you just gon give my pussy away like that?’

‘he never gon be able to fuck you like i do’

‘cmon baby don’t pass up a relationship with me…’

‘i swear i’ll never text historia again’

‘or any other bitch’

‘she could never amount to you ong baby’

‘baby?’

‘text me back y/n :(‘

‘at least still study with me…historia’s so dumb i’ll get kicked off the team fasho’

*caller blocked*

reiner put your phone on his nightstand before laying you on you your side. kissing you on the cheek before cuddling up behind you and falling asleep as well.

[dollfacejjk]

Helpless || Jungkook ff ||

pairing: jungkook x female lead!reader x another female (unnamed)

genre: angst, 18+, cheating au.

warnings: heartbreaks, mentions of sex and cum, love triangle, jungkook was a cheater, crying, Jungkook is an asshole, our oc(y/n) is a strong and independent girl.

a cheating story from the other woman's point of view,

She watched him pulling out the condom off his dick and throwing it in the dustbin with a tired look. He rolled away from top of her and checked the time on his phone which was near the pillow she was laying her head on.

She also glanced and saw its already 02:34 a.m. He quickly opened his phone and typed something while tilting his phone, keeping the screen away from her gaze. She saw how he brows frowned as he typed away furiously. At last, he groaned loudly and threw his phone on the bed.

She watched him jumping out of the bed before slipping into his boxers. His back red from the scratches she gave him while he was fucking her on this bed just 5 minutes ago.

He went straight to the bathroom, maybe to wash up. She looked up at the ceiling and gulped helplessly. She can still feel the ghost of his hands on her thighs and shoulders, thinking about the promises he made her but was never be able to keep it.

The sound of a ‘ding’ near her ear jolted her out of her thoughts. She glanced to the side and saw his phone unlocked, his home screen was of him with that girl, still.

She bit her lips, wondering if she should sneak a peek at the notification or not and when another ‘ding’ vibrated through his phone, her hands reached up to grab his phone before she can even think.

She moisten her lips and swipe down to click on the notification bar. It opened to a chat.

02:35 a.m.

Jungkook:

Y/n? I wanted to talk to you.

Can we talk today in the evening?

Please?

Are you sleeping?

Baby I know you never sleep this early.

Please reply?

I am really sorry! I just wanna talk.

Only for half an hour I promise!

Y/n? You are online, it is showing. Please reply baby!

02:38 a.m.

I don't wanna loose you!

02:45 a.m.

My life ❤ (Y/n):

I don't have time. Should've thought about not losing me when you fucked that girl in our own room.

Who knows you might still be fucking her.

Anyways don't message me again or I will have no choice but to block you!

She got startled when she heard a thud from the bathroom. Jungkook might have dropped something. She quickly turned off his phone before placing it down bear the pillow. Curling herself more into the blanket, she shifted to her right when tears started forming in her eyes.

“I would break up with her in a few days baby, just wait.”

“You know, Y/n is becoming more annoying now a days. I wanna break up with her as soon as possible.”

“........ I broke up with her and told her t-that I was cheating on her with you.”

“She found another man so soon?”“She really moved on from me within a month!”

“....I t-think I still love Y/n.”

“Jungkook? What are you saying? You broke up with her because you wanted to be with me, right? You even cheated on her with ME!”

She saw him following his ex all day, trying to talk to her, just for her to ignore and roll her eyes at him every time.

She saw him on his knees, crying to that girl, asking her for forgiveness and another chance. He clutched Y/n's hand and sobbed loudly, messily wiping away his tears and blabbing god knows what apologizes.

She saw how Y/n looked rather embarrassed seeing his behavior than feeling pity for his condition. Another man came running in and snatched Y/n's hands way before glaring down at Jungkook's body. He mouthed a quick ‘stay away’ and lead Y/n away from Jungkook.

She glanced in the direction of bathroom when she heard the door click open. Jungkook stared at her in surprise before his face turned into a scowl.

“What are you still doing here? Get out!”

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚆𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 - a Han Jisung short au!fanfic

-in which fast burn is actually slow burn that ends up with hearts breaking and words twisting and spit in your mouth.

"Oh-oh, talk fast, romance won't last, I'm okay with that oh-oh, burn, crash, romance Oh-oh, I'll take what I can get from you"

💫PART 1💫

You take a sip from your first and maybe last drink of the night as the guests slowly trickle out two by two. The music has toned down, the original 4 hours long playlist long replayed to its last song until Spotify almost seamlessly shifted to some calmer, ambience tracks you don't know the names of.

Changbin kisses his girlfriend goodbye one last time - even though it's the 5th time he says that - and then walks her upstairs as Seugmin busies himself trying to subtly clean up the place by throwing away empty paper plates and cups, being the good Virgo he is. Which is much appreciated by the Libra in the house, slightly intoxicated and relaxed Channie picks up a few napkins and grins at his friend, patting his back as a thank you as he walks past him to get to the trash can on the other side of the room.

Parties at Chan's where always nice, they had this chill, feel good vibes to them. People could literally show up in their pjamas and bring some chips and they would still be welcomed with open arms and cheers by the host who dubbed in between deejaying and entertaining his guests - and sometimes making out with that friend of a friend who got invited by either Changbin's or Jeongin's girlfriend.

Today was an exception. Only because Jeongin's partner was on a work trip and the last time Changbin's girlfriend introduced one her friends to Chan it actually stuck for once. They were actively seeing each other, but they were not official, as he would put it. She wasn't here today but he still decided not to interact with basically any other girl but you throughout the party.

Completely different story for Minho. He would stick his tongue in whatever throat he got at hand, grab any and every butt. You had to hold back your laugh when a few hours ago you saw him slightly panic when the girl he was making out with on the couch slapped HIS butt all of the sudden. Apparently it wasn't a welcomed gesture. He dropped her and orbited around his other friends for the remaining on the night, namely complaining about her to Chan and Han.

Han who merely acknowledged you these days. You sometimes caught him staring at you while you were talking to any of the other guys or acquaintances, but the moment you accidentally locked eyes with him he would avert his gaze, uneasiness creeping up your insides every time he did that.

You had met all the boys through Felix, he was your closest and dearest friend out of the whole group, and even though you felt very comfortable and safe around every one of them, you still considered him to be your best friend. You had known him for over ten years and grew up with him, you cherished your friendship very dearly.

Parties like these were your favorite cause they were sort of intimate and chill as most of the people there you already knew and the whole thing didn't require you to have to mingle and be all that social. You could happily spend the night sticking to easy going, comforting - arms always around your shoulders - Felix, or talking quietly to Hyunjin in between his outbursts of energy when he heard his favorite song playing and he just couldn't resist moving his body in the middle of the living area like nobody was watching.

"Alright, looks like everyone's gone home. Care for one last round of drinks before hitting the showers?", Chan spoke out loudly, gathering everyone around him as he grabbed some soju and held it up to everyone's mostly empty cups, "I'm good, I might just hit my sleeping bag actually", Seungmin replies, yawning a little, "oh come on don't be a party pooper, the night's still young", interjects Minho, snatching the bottle from Chan and pouring the alcohol for everyone who offered their cups, "the party IS over, Min. You guys are the last ones here. But ya'll sleeping over so it doesn't even count. Anyway... Cheers", argues Chan through a signature giggle.

Minho dawns his drink in one chug and makes a satisfied face along with a resounding "aah" afterwards, he's so cute but so random, definitely one of the weirder ones in the group, you think fondly to yourself while silently sipping. And he catches that. You're pretty sure he can't read your mind but the glint in his eyes when they lock with yours for that brief second you were thinking of him, gives you the odd feeling he managed to pick up on your silent thoughts: "we should play spin the bottle", he announces mischievously.

Much to no one shock, an abundance of "what the hell - why the fuck would you suggest we do that - Minho shut up you're drunk" an another string of curses follows his suggestion, with many of the guys faking disgusted faces and throwing up sounds.

You slap your forehead dramatically. It's like he knew you were thinking of him as a little adorable weirdo and he decided to play on that just then. Felix erupts into giggles and instinctively wraps his arm around your waist for support, he's a very light weight when it comes to drinking. He likes his alcohol finer, sweeter and possibly more expensive than the cheap soju he's been sipping on, you can tell he's already a little tipsy by the way he sways lightly on his feet.

"What? You guys too scared to get a little tongue action?", Minho teases, giggling in high pitched little breaths as Hyunjin plasters his hand all over his mouth and face, "please stop talking", he mutters, rolling his eyes, "whee whe?", he continues, his voice muffled and distorted by the impediment on his face until he pries away the hand only to interlock fingers with the brunette who looks at him perplexedly, "why? Why not? It's just a game to end the night nicely, you prudes".

Chan giggles and sighs while Jeongin shakes his head in disbelief, "cause it's literally just us nine you pabo, and some of us have girlfriends, and y/n is the only other girl here", he explains in fake frustration, "yeah I'm sure y/n wouldn't like to be thirsted after like some piece of meat to end her night", adds Changbin, to which you smile gratefully. Yet you're undeniably amused by the idea. Must be the alcohol you promised yourself you weren't going to drink much of. Which was still true to a point. You weren't even tipsy. Just a little amused by the silliest things.

"Fine. Changbin, Jeongin, Chan, feel free not play. More fun for us", rebukes Minho, slinging an arm around Seungmin on his side, who "ews" in his way, while still holding onto a progressively concerned Hyunjin who tries to unglue their fingers, "... I don't have a girlfriend", interjects Chan, scratching his neck nervously, Changbin shoots him daggers with his eyes only, "what about Lisa? Aren't you guys dating?", he eggs him on, "we're just seeing each other. No-", "no strings attached? You're just fuck buddies then, alright", Han cuts him off and everyone either mocks Chan or laughs at him.

"I was going to say it's just not that serious yet but... Moving on... I'm in, I don't care, I'm not too tired yet and it's just a game. An actual not strings attached game". Everybody looks at Chan with shocked expressions, yourself included. Except for Minho who just looks smug. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you Christopher Bahng or did someone clone you and send in the replacement?", comments Seungmin, only making everyone laugh more.

You feel Felix squirming a little, he finishes up his drink and takes a deep breath afterwards:"alright if Chan's in, I'm in", he declares and holds his hand up, Minho lets go of Hyunjin and high fives the blue haired boy, pulling him to his side, opposite you in the little circle you guys formed in the middle of the basement.

"You guys find each other cute? Cute enough to kiss?", Jeongin asks in bewilderment, most of the guys shrug, some make poker faces, Seungmin shouts a resounding NO while Chan giggles as he nods and winks at Felix who giggles with him.

Now now... You knew all of them felt very comfortable around each other, you had witnessed them being openly affectionate multiple times. You knew they liked to cuddle in piles and sometimes playfully grab at each other butts and stuff. It's not like you didn't expect them to randomly act out, you were just a little surprised about how the were slowly all coming around after initially shutting down Minho's idea so vehemently.

"I'm so going to regret this ugh", Hyunjin exclaims, joining the favorable group, Changbin sighs and crushes his plastic cup in his hand, "now how can I pass up the chance to finally kiss you, my prince", he says dramatically, blowing a kiss to the tall brunette who giggles loudly as he tilts his head back. "I love how everyone thought I was insane yet you're all crawling now. And y/n hasn't even agreed yet", comments Minho with an underliying victorious tone to his voice, "she doesn't have to", Han replies so lowly you're probably the only one who picks up on it.

And you don't miss the slight harshness in his tone. You knit your eyebrows at him, annoyance bubbling up at the base of your stomach as you lick the last drops of the soju in your cup and smirk, "yeah she doesn't have to but she will. Count me in", you declare fiercely, attracting a few astonished looks in your direction. Fuck it. You think. They were all attractive, kind hearted, good fucking people. Spin the bottle was just a stupid game and you felt safe and secure enough not to be afraid they'd disrespect you. Might as well enjoy a little fun.

Felix shoots you a curious look but stays silent, he blinks his pretty eyes and looks down for a brief second. "I hate you guys, I'm in. But I'm not kissing anyone with tongue". The cheers that follow Jeongin addition are so loud you have to cover your ears. "Seungmin, pup, join the dark side", Han prods the last of the group who looks utterly disgusted as he puckers up his lips and walks closer to him, "Jisung, stop that. I'll play, but no tongue for me also".

Chan pours out "an encouragement round" of tequila in tiny shots glasses, skipping on the few of you who refuse the liquid courage - you, Han, Seungmin and Felix - and then proceeds to invite everyone to sit down in a circle as he pulls out his phone.

"Okay. Here are the rules: we'll play three rounds, each a little more risqué than the last one, and I'll set a timer for each one. First round is a kiss on the cheek, second one is a peck on the lips and third one is a kiss that has to involve tongue, and has to last at least 30 seconds. If anyone's deeply uncomfortable at whatever point, they can pull out. Are we good? "

You find yourself sitting in between Hyunjin and Chan, with Minho and Felix sitting opposite you, next to Seungmin, Jeongin and Changbin while Han closes the circle on the other end, next to Hyunjin on one side and Minho on the other. A somewhat tense silence fills the room, if not for the quiet lofi music in the background, you can almost hear Hyunjin's stomach grumbling, the sound of your quickened breathing and swallowing once it downs on you there's quite a high chance you'll end up kissing Han.

You two weren't as close as the others. And not without reason. Truth was that when Felix introduced you to him, you felt the most intense sparkle crackling in your chest. You had clicked so fast and so well. And then you kissed and it all went crumbling down. You hadn't confessed your feelings for each other but a few years back on one wintery night while you were walking on one of your night walks through the park, he had kissed you.

You initially thought that was it, that was going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship with this guy who was the sweetest, funniest, smartest guy you had ever met. He was insanely attractive and played the guitar and the piano and knew how to rap and sing beautifully and you were definitely falling for him even though you had only known him for less than a year.

Instead he had went ghost after that night. And when you had confronted him about it, heartbroken as you were, he cited how it was a big mistake and that he wasn't thinking straight. Obliterating the countless nights and days you had spent as actual good friends and that later evolved in slight flirting and closeness overall. A few years had passed and you mostly kept it civil and discreet. Nobody knew about it except for Felix who you just couldn't keep this secret from, and you suspected Minho might have known about it too cause he was Han's closest link in the group besides Felix himself.

Tension had been building up and it was gruelling and undeniable to the four of you but everyone tried their best not to show it too much. You kept your distance, slowly trying to heal your heart. And it was hard, it was so hard cause you all hanged out all the time as a group, seeing that some of the guys were getting girlfriends also didn't help much. You longed to have someone care for you like that, that someone looked like he despised you with a passion though.

Chan is about to spin the bottle when Han stops him brusquely: "yah wait! What's the point of this whole game if anyone can just call it quits whenever? Isn't spin the bottle supposed to make everyone at least a slightly bit uncomfortable?", he quips, a smug look on his face as he looks around. The older brunette sighs and nods," that's a good point, actually...."," yeah I'm not making out with any of you guys. Juni wouldn't appreciate it", comments Changbin, "yeah neither am I", adds Jeongin, looking cross. Minho rolls his eyes in annoyance, "fuck guys it's just a game... Loosen up".

A little debate explodes right then and there, with everyone trying to talk over the other and the ensuing chaos that makes you laugh half heartedly when you notice Chan looking absolutely spent as he massages his temples. "You are all making it way more complicated than it needs to be. Stop being so hellbent over anything, Jesus!".

Calm and chilled out Chan surprises everyone when he shouts in order to get everybody's attention back to him, he slams his hands down on the floor and sighs once all eyes are on him," first two rounds are mandatory. You either play it fair or you're welcome to go to bed, I don't care at this point. Changbin, Jeongin, you're automatically excluded from the second and third round. Seungmin you either pray this bottle never fucking lands on you or you can use all my mouthwash later on. I have gallons. Now, can we do this stupid thing and then go to sleep? ".

Seeing that no one protests in response, Chan grins, pleased with his unwavering authority, and places the bottle directly in front of you: "since you're the only sensible one and the only girl too, you spin first", he declares. 8 distinct pair of either amused or mildly anxious eyes land on you, you can feel them all burning tiny holes in your face as they expectantly wait for you to break the ice.

The crimson heat rising to your chest and your neck and your cheeks definitely alerts everyone, yourself included, that the confidence you began this night with is now visibly fading, leaving your body like it never was there in the first place. You smile meekly and look down at the bottle, giving it a little spin, not too weak not too strong.

The elongated neck of the bottle ends up pointing at Felix. Relief washes over you. He smiles brightly at you and opens his arms wide for you, you crawl over to him, letting him embrace you slightly as you place a soft kiss to his cheek, making sure to exaggerate the sound of your lips smacking onto his freckled skin, which makes everyone laugh. Since he was on the receiving end of the first spin, Felix tries his luck next, the bottle spinning and spinning until it stops in front of Minho, "Yongbokah!!", the black haired boy chirps excitedly, repeatedly tapping the cheek Felix kisses in between giggles.

Minho's spin lands on Hyunjin, who fakes the saddest frown and scrunches his face dramatically when his overtly excited friend complies to the game. He then spins himself along with the bottle, looking so silly as he rotates on his bum:"wheeeeee who am I gonna kiss?", he asks no one in particular: the bottle lands on Jeongin. Oh boy.

The utter chaos and ooohhs and ahhhs and mocking and chants that ensue are loud enough for your ears to start ringing. While the youngest boy fake cries and whines profusely, Hyunjin makes the roundest kissy face and smacks his lips together, "MY BABY BOY, MY BABY BREAD COME HERE", he tackles Jeongin to the ground, laughing excitedly as he places what must be a wet kiss on his friend's cheek.

The traumatized maknae's spin ends on Chan, who laughs so much he starts squeaking. Jeongin curses under his breath and kisses his cheek half heartedly, "I'm so glad this torture ends for me now", he mutters, causing new laughter and squeaks to erupt in the basement. "Aaand time! First round is over", Chan resets the timer on his phone just as Jeongin takes his leave, waving everyone goodbye as he makes his way upstairs.

Changbin pouts sulkily, "I can't believe I lost both chances to kiss our prince and our baby", he whines, while the rest of the guys mock him playfully, Hyunjin laughs the most but still blows him a kiss that his friend pretends to catch and hold close to his heart. "I'll stay for the show until I pass out", he announces then, removing himself from the circle, going to then sit on the couch in the corner.

"Alright, this is where it gets interesting", Chan rubs his hands together and proceeds to start the timer and spin the bottle. You swallow a little nervously now, watching as the bottle spins on itself a few times until it slows down and inevitably comes to a stop: it stills at a weird angle, the narrower part of the neck pointing into the empty space between you and Hyunjin.

You lock eyes with him, uncertainty displayed across both of your faces, "I think it's y/n", says Seungmin, "mmh nah it's Hyune", contradicts Minho. Chan crawls over and frowns, he tilts his head and tries to look at the bottle from a different perspective, he steps over and around it with a confused look on his face, "I'll spin again, just for fairplay sake".

As the countdown ticks and ticks, the bottle spins again, Chan sits back down next to you and observes closely as the empty tequila finally stops. This time it points squarely at you. You inadvertently suck in a little breath. It's fine, you tell yourself. It's just Chan. Cute, cuddly, ever supportive and reliable Chan. You kissed each other on the cheek before on like birthdays and Christmas, no big deal.

He turns to you with an almost apologetic look on his face and smiles gently, "is this okay?", he asks quietly and you nod, "time, hyung", Minho cuts in, much to everyone's amusement, "what? Eager to kiss your next victim?", the aussie teases back before placing a kiss to your lips. It's gentle and quick, passes like a breeze.

Your hands are a little shaky now that you hold the bottle. And it's not from the kiss you just shared but the potential one you might get next. You give the bottle a little twist and then spin it more vigorously than the first time, squeezing your eyes shut. Not Han not Han not Han. "Oh... So it was fate, in the end".

Chan's voice echoes through your ears. You open your eyes to find the bottle pointing at Hyunjin who looks at you a little nervously, "seriously? The three of you might as well just play on your own", poor Changbin is fed up, he stands up from his spot and walks to the door, "I'm not watching someone else living out my dream, goodnight".

It takes everyone a few seconds to calm down from the giggles but when you all finally do and the impeding timer going off resurfaces in your mind, you quickly move onto Hyunjin. It was supposed to be you who initiates the kiss but he does it for you, his lips hands down the softest thing that has ever landed on you when he pecks your mouth slowly. When he spins next, it lands on Seungmin, who goes so pale and flabbergasted he might just pass out right there - "time!".

Everyone groans at Chan's announcement while the remaining youngest exhales in relief: "is my spin null? Do we restart the lap?", Hyunjin asks, "yeah I reckon. It ran out of time right when it landed. It's null. We start over", replies Chan, promptly placing the bottle in front of you, "me again?", you say confusedly, "yup. Hyunjin's turn was basically deleted. The loop begins from you again". Han hisses underneath his breath at this executive decision, while you can see Seugmin regaining color in his face, his features slightly more relaxed even if it's short lived.

Now you're really really nervous. You try not to show it but a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety swirls in your stomach and makes your heart pound when you give the bottle a strong flick, setting it off to spin again.

is this a cliffhanger? Am I doing this right🤔💀

🥀PART 2

[sapphire-writes]

Down in Flames (modern!HOTD) 3

previous ~ next ~ series masterlist

pairing: modern!Aegon x Reader & modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: Tensions rise with the band as Otto Hightower runs them ragged with recording the album. You and Aegon come to a breaking point (no like for real this time you swear).

rating: Explicit

warnings: spicy stuff below the cut, choking, p in v, language, physical fighting, y'all if this isn't your thing I beg you just scroll past

word count: 4.8k

note: what an innocent lil gif for this part lmao hope you enjoy it!! loving writing this story and reading your reblogs & comments 💚

masterlist

You text Cregan when you get back to the apartment. You received an eager text from him almost immediately after entering your Uber. Baela egged you on, Rhaena laughing maniacally as she did. Truly a menacing pair the two of them can be. 

“He liiiiikes you,” Rhaena slurred, shaking her hips, “seriously you should have seen him watching while we were dancing. Practically drooling”

Heat floods to your cheeks as you remember Aemond’s gaze, the way he was watching you. The feeling of his hand on your arm. 

Jesus Christ. The drinks have gone to your head tonight because there is no way you’re blushing, no way your thighs are clenching together at the thought of Aemond Targaryen.

“Text him this! Text him this,” Baela says, holding her hands out for dramatic effect, “please Cregan, fuck me till I can’t remember the name of my shitty ex.”

You throw a pillow at Baela who catches it with ease, stuffing it under her elbows. 

“Bae you are in rare form tonight!” you accuse, laughing all the same. Baela groans, stuffing her face into the pillow.

“I just want my girl to get some!” she says, voice muffled by the pillow. Rhaena laughs, reaching into a bag of chips you all have been sharing. Baela lifts her head, eyes wide. 

“When is the last time you were fucked?” Baela demands to know, pointing a finger at you. 

You remember. A few weeks ago. After a heated argument, of course. You and Aegon had made up, leading to angry sex in his room. 

“Couple weeks ago I guess-” you begin to answer but Baela shakes her head. 

“No no no,” she says, “when was the last time you were fuuucked.”

You glance at Rhaena who is stifling a laugh, watching her buzzed sister speak her words of wisdom.

“Bae, we are not following,” Rhaena says snickering. Baela rolls her eyes, and takes a sip from the water bottle she keeps on her nightstand. 

“You know what I mean,” Baela continues, “like really fucked, like the kind of sex that makes your brain leak from your ears. Earth shattering. Mind blowing.”

You understand what she means. Maybe in the earlier days of your relationship with Aegon it had been like that. Passionate, raw, love making. But you hate to admit, it hasn’t been like that in a while. Even with the anger. 

“I don’t know,” you tell her, a nervous smile on your lips, “a while, I guess.”

Baela nods, like she already knew the answer. 

“So text this burly, beefy man,” she begins, “and get, fuuucked.”

“Okay crazy!” you tell her, snagging a chip from Rhaena, “I will, not tonight though.”

Baela reaches for the chips, Rhaena holds the bag out to her. 

“Thank you! Finally,” Baela says.

The rest of the night is spent giggling and sharing stories until the sun begins to peek through the clouds. Only then do you find sleep, and for the first time in weeks it is utterly blissful. 

It was Baela who found herself at the studio early before the rest of the band arrived. Lounging on the couch she helped herself to an old issue of Cosmopolitan, flipping through the glossy pages. Snickering she dogeared a page to show you when you arrived. 

The doors open Aemond strutting through them. Even his walk is arrogant. 

“Found him,” Aemond said. 

Aegon trails behind him, looking disheveled. 

“Where was he?” Baela asks. 

Aemond glances around the room. 

“Y/N here?” 

Baela shakes her head, not looking up from her magazine. 

“Not yet, she’ll be here soon.”

“Silk Street,” Aemond says. 

Baela’s head snaps up. The fucking strip club. She meets Aemond’s eye, his expression nonchalant. Baela’s mouth twists into anger as she turns her head to look at Aegon, who now sits on the edge of the stage with his head in his hands. 

Baela rises from the couch, moving towards him.

“You piece of shit,” she says, curling her magazine and reeling backward, ready to strike him. 

Aemond is quicker. He sprints forward grabbing her wrist, and twisting her away from his brother. 

“I know,” Aegon moans looking up, eyes glassy, “you should fucking let her.”

“Let me go!” Baela says, tugging free from Aemond. 

Luke enters from the other room, hearing the commotion. His eyes widen as he sees Aegon and takes in the scene in front of him.

“Leave her alone!” Luke says, moving to stand between Baela and Aemond. 

Aemond looks at Luke incredulously.

“Fuck off,” Aemond says pushing Luke away from him. 

Jace enters next with Helaena, watching as Luke stumbles backward. Helaena’s face crumples in confusion at the scene, as Baela grabs a vase attempting the launch it at Aegon. Helaena dashes forward, hands around the glass as Baela struggles against her grip. 

“Stop!” Jace says coming to his brother’s aid, and pushing Aemond in the chest. 

Aemond smiles at him, as though he was waiting for an excuse to release his frustration on the brothers. He pushes Jace who falls to the floor. 

Luke moves to get towards Aemond once more, and Aegon leaps from the stage, grabbing Luke by the scruff of the neck and slamming him against the body of the piano. 

“Aegon, stop!” Rhaena says as she enters the room amidst the chaos. 

Baela stands between Jace and Aemond, as they continue to taunt each other. 

You are the last to arrive, hurrying faster down the hallway at the sound of yelling. Your eyes widen at the fighting. 

“Aegon!” you yell, running over to pull him off of Luke. 

“Stop! Everyone stop it!” Baela shouts, as Otto Hightower enters the room and everyone falls silent. 

Otto has that energy about him, his presence like a soothing balm on a burn. Aemond stands straighter immediately, Aegon backing up a few paces. Luke rubs his jaw which now glows red. 

“Hardly the behavior of professionals,” Otto says in a chilling voice, “let alone a family.”

“Sorry,” Jace mutters, looking towards the floor. 

Rhaena grabs your hand, directing you towards the sofa. Helaena is the only one who approaches Otto, arms open to embrace him. 

“Thanks for coming,” she says, voice dreamlike, holding none of the stress that the room holds. 

“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Otto tells her, “and it needs to be done quickly. I don’t want any more fighting. Nothing that delays this being completed, is that clear?”

Aegon cracks his jaw, his eyes half-lidded as he nods. Aemond jerks his head in a quick nod. Jace is glaring at Aemond, but nods as well, his younger brother following his example. 

“I need you to be perfect,” Otto says, putting a finger under Helaena’s chin. 

She smiles at him, a whimsical expression on her face. Her smile isn’t a happy one, it is rather melancholic. 

“Of course,” Helaena murmurs, and Otto walks by her, to stand in front of Aegon. 

Aegon does not meet his gaze, looking anywhere but Otto. Otto looks down at him, taking in Aegon’s disheveled state. He can smell the lingering booze, see the glitter that speckles his flesh like small diamonds catching the light. Even from across the room you notice the fresh hickies that adorn Aegon’s neck causing your stomach to turn. 

Otto makes a face of disgust before speaking. 

“And you,” he says, looking at the man in front of him. 

Aegon lifts his red-rimmed eyes towards his grandfather. Otto reaches a hand out, fingers brushing against Aegon’s swollen cheekbone. Aegon winces at his touch. 

“I need you to be perfect,” Otto says, his voice eerily calm. Aegon’s lower lip trembles, but he nods all the same. 

“Aegon, Helaena, come with me,” Otto says, starting towards the door, “I want recordings of isolated vocals, and the rest of the band ready to record in two hours.” 

He stops at the door. 

“707 King’s Road. Two hours,” Otto finishes, signaling to Aegon and Helaena. 

Helaena hurriedly collects her notebooks and pens, shoving them into her canvas tote. Aegon looks towards you, his eyes glassy as he meets your furious expression. He’s cheated. Again. Well is it really cheating at this point? 

In your mind you have broken up, but Aegon was still running around under the impression that you are still a couple. Do you even have a leg to stand on? You did give Cregan your number. You don’t even know what to say at this point, but luckily you don’t have to. Helaena moves toward her brother, lacing her fingers through his. 

“Okay?” she asks, searching the face of her elder brother. 

“Uh-huh,” Aegon says, as she begins to lead him from the room. And then they are gone. 

The room is silent for a moment. Baela looks at you, as Rhaena moves towards Luke. 

“Shit, Luke, your face,” she says, bringing a hand to touch his swollen jaw. Luke flinches, but lets her examine him. 

“His fucking fault,” he snaps, glaring at Aemond. 

Aemond tilts his head to the side, as though waiting for a reason to continue fighting.  

“He was attacking Baela!” Luke continued, and Aemond moves towards him. 

“Stop it!” Baela shouts, commanding the attention of the room, “no one attacked me. I attacked Aegon if anything.”

“Aegon?” you say, speaking for the first time since arriving, “why?”

Baela looks at you, before her eyes briefly glance at Aemond. You turn to face him. 

“What?” you question. 

You hate feeling like there is a secret in the room that everyone is aware of but you. Aemond meets your eyes but doesn’t say anything. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“He was at Silk Street,” Baela says reluctantly, “that’s where he was all night.”

Your heart sinks in your chest, an aching numbness settling deep within your bones. You can’t do this. You can’t do this anymore. 

“I’m going home,” you announce, heading for the door.

“I’ll come with you,” Baela says, hurrying after you. 

“No, Bae its okay,” you tell her, “go help them get ready. I’ll just be at the apartment.”

“Are you sure? Rhae and I-”

“I just need some time alone,” you tell her, “I’ll be okay. Promise.”

Baela nods, but lets you go. Jace comes up behind her as you leave through the door. 

“She’ll be okay,” Jace says, rubbing her shoulders. 

Baela nods, pressing her lips together in a tight line. Aemond is still glaring at Luke who now sits on the stage as Rhaena presses an icepack against his chin. 

You don’t speak to Aegon for a few days. Not that you’d get far. Otto probably has him locked in the recording box until getting the perfect take. 

You always knew the feud was serious when Rhaenyra went solo, but now with an actual album in the works blood was bound to be spilt. Otto would keep Dracarys in the studio all night if it meant getting the song recorded before Rhaenyra. 

It wasn’t all bad. You needed some time to think, to really wrack your head for what you wanted. It was good to spend time at your old apartment, your old room. It made your head clearer. So when Aegon finally texted you, you knew what you had to do. 

The studio was quiet when you arrived, save for the soft strumming of a guitar. You found Aegon sitting on the couch, fingers strumming his guitar, softly singing to himself. His eyes lit up when you walked into the room.

“Hey,” he says, placing the guitar to the side.

“Hey,” you answer, coming to sit beside him.

You suddenly wish you had changed your mind about what to wear. You wanted to look nice, so you had settled with a dress, with black tights covering your legs. The weather was getting colder and you were grateful for the warmth they provided. But you notice Aegon’s eyes roam up your legs, and worry for a moment you’ll simply forgive him, straddling him on the couch.

“How’s the album coming?” you ask, breaking the awkward silence. 

“A fucking nightmare,” Aegon laughs, “but we did it, we recorded it all. Without killing each other.”

You smile at that. You always wanted the band to succeed. 

“Otto’s throwing a party to celebrate, at the Dragonpit,” Aegon tells you. 

Your eyes widen at that. The Dragonpit is a huge club, for really fancy patrons. Rich mafia dudes, as Baela would say. 

“That’s really cool, Aeg,” you tell him and you mean it. You truly are happy for him.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N),” Aegon says with tears in his eyes, “I don’t know why I keep fucking up, but I do.”

Your eyes fill with tears. At least Aegon knows where this is headed. 

“I really did love you,” Aegon tells you, his smile half-hearted. 

You find your lip trembling. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love someone properly,” he admits, slowly finding the words, “but I tried my best.”

You run your hand through his hair, smoothing it off of his forehead. Aegon closes his eyes at your touch. 

Now is the moment. You could stay. You have done it before. You could lean into the man in front of him, soothing him. Wipe the tears from his face. Hold him in your arms and cradle him until he falls asleep. 

But you are tired. And you want to go home. The resistance falls from your limbs, a tension you were only partially consciously aware of leaves you. You sigh deeply, giving him a sad smile. 

“I know you did,” you tell him. Aegon’s eyes are glassy as he studies your face. As you step away from him. You are diverging from the path he is familiar with. 

“I loved you too,” you whisper. 

Aegon nods, his lips downturned. 

“Do you want to come with me?” you ask, more out of courtesy than thinking he will agree. 

He shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says, forcing a smile, “I think I’m gonna crash here for the night. Don’t want to be late for rehearsal in the morning.”

“Okay,” you tell him, getting up from the sofa to leave. 

“Friday night,” he calls, “you’re still my date. For the party.”

You smile sadly at him. 

“You sure you want me there?”

“Of course I do. You’re a part of this too.”

“Okay. I’ll be there,” you tell him, causing him to smile. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Bye Aegon.” 

You cry the entire ride home. You didn’t think you would, but as you sat behind the wheel it was as though a dam broke lose and everything came crashing down. But at the same time, the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders. 

You don’t know what made you drive to Aegon’s apartment.You just want this to be over, grab what remains of your things and quietly disappear from his life. You stayed in your car several minutes after you parked before heading up the apartment. 

The lights are off when you enter the apartment, save for the light above the stove that is seemingly always on. There are muffled voices from down the hall, a giggle. As you close the door behind you, you hear the voices from Aemond’s room go silent. 

Shit. 

You had hoped he wasn’t home. You don’t need more humiliation that comes with packing what little things you have left here. 

You walk slowly, the baseboards creaking under your foot. You hear Aemond’s bedroom door open. 

Fuck. 

You look up from the floor, wincing. Your embarrassed expression soon fades to one of shock as Rhaena walks towards you from the hall. 

She is smiling brightly, wearing one of Aemond’s shirts. You know it's his, you’ve seen him wear it. It falls past her thighs, leaving the rest of her legs bare.  

“Hey Y/N,” she says, voice shaking, trying to appear nonchalant. She bites her bottom lip, widening her eyes as if to say finally.

You can’t seem to find your voice as she collects her purse and slips on her shoes. 

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” she says, tossing her locs over her shoulder. Her cheeks are rosy, lips bruised. She places a hand to her mouth, blowing you a quick kiss before scurrying out the door. You watch the door close behind her, lips still parted in shock.

You turn back towards the hall. Aemond has exited his room, standing shirtless in the hallway. His dark gray sweats hang low on his hips, displaying the sharp v-line that disappears below his waistline. 

“Seriously?” you tell him, finding your voice at last, “Rhaena? Aemond come on.”

His tongue pokes at his cheek, as he watches you. His sapphire eye catches the light from the kitchen, sending geometric shapes on the wall. 

“She really likes you, you prick,” you tell him, anger coursing through your veins, heating your face. 

The sadness and hurt that had been in your entire being moments ago has been replaced with white hot rage. 

“So?” he says, strolling into the kitchen, and grabbing a glass. He fills it with water and takes a sip before meeting your eyes. 

“So?” you imitate him, head tilting to the side, “so this is going to crush her.” 

You can’t believe the nerve he has, to stand there so calmly. He exhales, lips turning into a smile as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, silver hair cascading down his back. 

“She’s single, I’m single,” he says, no growls, at you, “it's not a big fucking deal.”

“It is a big deal Aemond,” you say, voice increasing in volume, “Fuck. Why would you do that?”

You always knew Aemond wasn’t the nicest person, but part of you hoped deep down he had some sense of empathy. Especially since he brushed Rhaena off all these years. You thought he understood her feelings for him. A thought rushes to your mind. 

“You did this because of Luke,” you told him, and he placed his glass on the counter, resting his hands against the edge. The muscles in his back ripple as his hair falls over his face.  

You felt your shoulders relax, knowing your realization is correct. What an asshole.  

“You’re gonna mess with Rhaena’s head, just to fuck with Luke?” you ask him, running a hand through your hair. Aemond says nothing, just taps his long fingers against the counter. 

“Fuck, Aemond,” you want to keep yelling at him. You want a reaction from him, some remorse, something besides that cold look, “you really are heartless.”

Aemond turns his head to you, purple and sapphire eye aglow with anger. He pushes off the counter, striding towards you. 

“Go to bed, Y/N,” he says in a voice dripping with disdain, “you’re not my friend, you’re not my girlfriend. Stop acting like one.”

Your nostrils flare with anger and you swear you see red. You step closer to him, tilting your chin to meet his gaze. You can feel the heat radiating from him, your chests almost touching. 

“Rhaena is my friend,” you tell him, voice low in warning. 

You stare at each other for a beat, neither moving nor backing down. Gods you fucking hate him. At least ending things with Aegon means you never have to interact with Aemond Targaryen ever again. 

“Go to bed,” he repeats, voice dripping with hostility, as you shake your head. 

“I’m not staying.”

A flicker of confusion dances across his sharp features. 

“Why?”

“We broke up,” you tell him, and continue before he can argue, “really. Like for good this time.”

Aemond stays eerily still. His eye searches your face, taking in the look of acceptance that follows the words you speak. 

“So after the party, you won’t have to deal with me anymore,” you tell him, the bitterness evident in your voice. 

You look away first. Who cares about this stupid stalemate anymore? You’re so done with Targaryen men. You turn on your heel prepared to leave the kitchen when Aemond speaks. 

“You know what I think?” he says softly, and you look at him once more. 

He wets his lips, a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wait for him to speak, anticipation causing your skin to blossom with goosebumps. 

“I don’t think you’re mad I fucked Rhaena,” he tells you and you shake your head, opening your mouth to argue, your eyes narrowing. 

Of course that’s why you are mad, what is he talking about?

“I think you’re mad I didn’t fuck you,” he says slowly. 

Your mouth suddenly goes dry as all the air evaporates from your lungs. Your heart beats erratically in your chest and you swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat. Aemond’s eyes light up as you fail to answer, the beginning of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“You’re jealous,” he practically purrs, as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, flooding them with color. 

The air in the kitchen feels so hot, it’s as though it is melting the flesh from your bones. You’re not jealous, why would you be jealous? No, no that doesn’t make any sense. He’s just saying that to mess with you, to make you confused. 

“Fuck you,” you whisper, still frozen to the spot. 

Your chest heaves with your breath. There is a look in Aemond’s eye, reminiscent of a rabid dog.

“I didn’t sleep with Rhaena,” he tells you and you blink in surprise. 

Your heart nearly stops beating. 

“What?”

“We made out,” he admits, grinning smugly as he shrugs, “she wanted to be more comfortable so I gave her my shirt.”

The nerves you felt a moment ago are replaced by fury yet again. He tricked you, and now he has humiliated you. In the neverending battle between you and Aemond, it appears Aemond has finally won. His smile is triumphant as he takes in your reaction. 

You clench your jaw, preparing yourself for being the butt of the joke, before rolling your eyes at him. 

“You are such a dick,” you tell him, your tone defeated as you turn away from him in surrender. 

Aemond reaches out, grabs your arm, and forces you to face him. 

“Oh, fuck off-” you begin to say when he presses his lips against yours. 

The kiss is brief and sears your lips. You pull away immediately, staring at him, eyes wide. Aemond stares back at you, not releasing your arm. 

Holy shit.

Your lips tingle and you don’t let your thoughts catch up with you as you lean forward, crashing your lips to his again. You throw your hands around his neck, pulling him towards you as he molds his mouth over yours. 

His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. You scrape your nails against the nape of his neck, securing his mouth to yours. Aemond turns his head, deepening the kiss as his hot tongue enters your mouth. He pushes you against the counter, caging you against it with his hips.

A soft wine leaves your throat, swallowed by Aemond’s pouty lips, as you feel the hardness between his legs push against you. Aemond’s hands move to cup under your ass, squeezing harshly as he lifts you with ease onto the counter. 

He brings his hands between you both, slender fingers pushing your thighs open. You wrap your legs around his waist as he does, your legs a vice around him. His fingers stroke the fabric of your tights, right against your most sensitive spot, before hooking onto the material and tearing them at the seam. 

He fucking ripped your stockings holy shit. 

Aemond continues kissing you relentlessly as he does so, its a desperate mess of clashing tongues and teeth. You nip at his lower lip earning a groan from him that only encourages you further. You move your hands from his hair, pulling down his sweatpants at the waist. You feel his freed cock, hot and heavy against your hand. 

Your eyes flutter open then, as you take him in your hand, shamefully impressed at the generous length and girth. Aemond meets your eyes, violet eye half-lidded, lips bruised from kissing. He releases a moan as you pump your hand around him, stroking his thick length once, twice. 

You barely think, mind clouded with lust as you guide him towards your throbbing center. Aemond’s nimble fingers loop through your lace underwear, pulling it to the side. You feel the fat head of his cock kiss between your slick lower lips, before he pushes into you. 

A strangled moan escapes your lips at the delicious stretch Aemond’s cock gives you. Delirious with the feeling of him splitting you open, you choose to ignore the smug grin that appears on his face as he bottoms out in your warm cunt. You can’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction in the way his mouth drops open as your cunt pulsates, clenching around him. 

The way Aemond and you fuck is just like when you’re fighting one another. There is no time for being gentle. After a moment of adjusting Aemond pulls out, snapping his hips back into you again, again, and again. All you can do is hold onto him as he pounds into you, the edge of the counter biting into your lower back. Your fingers claw at him, surely drawing blood with how hard they scrape against the planes of his shoulders. Aemond’s mouth finds the junction of your shoulder and neck, and he sucks harshly on the skin. 

You can’t help the pathetic whimpers and cries that leave you at his merciless pace, at the way he keeps one hand wrapped around your thigh keeping you spread open against him. He keeps his other hand around your neck, long fingers curling around your throat. He lifts his face from your neck, watching his cock slide effortlessly in and out, coated in your arousal. Aemond blinks to look up at you, drinking in the hedonistic expression on your face. 

Every drive of his hips sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, the head of his cock rubbing against the spongy spot within you that makes stars appear in your eyes. Holy fuck you hadn’t been fucked like this in forever. Maybe ever at all. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Aemond growls, hand squeezing against your throat.

The loss of air makes your head spin, as Aemond continues his vigorous strokes. The apartment is silent aside from the lewd, wet slapping noises that echo throughout the kitchen. 

His pace never relents, even as he releases your throat and forces his fingers through your parted lips into your warm mouth. He groans as you suck the lengthy digits, before removing them from your mouth and bringing them to rub slow, lazy circles around your clit. A pleasurable juxtaposition to the brutal pace of his cock.  

You feel your lower stomach tighten, a wave of pleasure beginning to crest within you. Your fingers desperately claw at his bicep.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you squeak, a breathy desperate moan. You bite your lip, stifling the next moan that manages to slip through; it comes out as a broken sob. Aemond raises an eyebrow at you, a cocky lopsided grin appearing on his face. 

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, his voice rough as gravel.

God, you want to smack that stupid self-indulgent look off his face.

But he feels so fucking good inside you, working you closer and closer toward your orgasm. It's like he knows exactly how to touch you like he’s been thinking of touching you like this and preparing for the moment he does. His free hand tangles in your hair, tugging your neck backward and making you look towards the ceiling. Aemond licks a hot path up your throat, before biting harshly on your ear. 

With a strangled cry, your pussy clenches around his cock, and the world around shatters, bathing you in white hot pleasure. Aemond hums against your neck, as his thrusts become sloppier. As his pace begins to slow, you feel him release inside of you, hot spurts of his cum painting your inner walls as you clench around him, milking him for all he’s worth. Thank god you're on birth control. 

You feel Aemond’s hand release from your hair, your neck relaxing. You drop your hands from his back as he rests his forehead against yours. You swallow, trying to regulate your breathing that leaves your lips in pants. Aemond releases his hands from you, pulling his softening cock from within you, clutching the counter so hard his knuckles turn white. 

You feel despairingly empty as he unsheaths himself from your warmth, breath catching when he is fully parted from you. Aemond and you lock eyes, your cheeks beginning to flush as you come down from your respective highs. Warmth trickles down your between your thighs, as your place your shaky legs on the ground.

You just slept with Aemond Targaryen. 

Shit. 

Aegon’s fucking brother. Your heart drops. 

Shit.

Rhaena.

note: what did i say about things getting messy??? 😱 I hope you enjoyed ily ily ily

taglist: @padfooteyes, @herfantasyworldd, @kyuupidwrites, @lost-and-founds, @doublesparrows, @virginslut08, @f4ll-for-you, @violet2507, @itsabby15, @raphaellathedragon, @tswiftsthings, @cruelmissdior, @tempt-ress, @lexyr23, @reneki, @fictionalcomforts, @serrhaewin, @yariany02, @lily174, @schniiipsel, @nina2697, @minttea07, @queenofshinigamis, @duesobabe, @maximizedrhythms, @arryn-nyx, @arcadianmoonlight @kittykylax

[brights-place]

Would you be ok with writing Velvet x troll!reader headcanons? Platonic is good, but if you feel comfortable doing romantic then that’s good too :)

Velvet X Troll! Reader

Pairings: Velvet X Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Crimp abuse

A/N: Okay this request is a mix of Platonic and Romantic headcannons of dating and being friends with Velvet! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

- Velvet wouldn't tell anybody about being friends with a troll - You were sweet and nice... your singing was amazing she never knew how amazing trolls sounded - You would tell velvet stories about how it's like being a troll - Velvet loves picking you up in her hand and letting you climb her shoulder or sit up top her head while she talks to veneer or staff who just can't help but glance at you or Velvet before cracking a slight smile when seeing you sleep on velvet's hair as velvet scowls at staff or veneer - Velvet is jealous how you sing so well but she always admires you after a few seconds staring at you with doe eyes as your small body danced - As a small troll you used your hair to swing around velvet and veneers room and Venner would clap since he enjoys it while velvet records it and save's it to her photo album called 'My Troll ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)' - You always accompanied her on every shopping trip, dress rehearsal and personal meetings to discuss her opportunities for her career as you cheer her on - She always stares to the floor since she watches to find you - This girl! I SWEAR! velvet isn’t very affectionate - So most of the hugging and kissing will be done by you. She may act like it annoys her but she likes it sooo fucking much! She even secretly craves it - Will defend you with her life! your so small and so cute she can't lt her cute friend be attacked by some lower class - If somebody ever wrongs you, they’re banned from all her shows! If it’s somebody on the internet, she’s fully prepared to send her fans after them. She’ll then do her best to make you forget about the person completely cause she cares for you - When you are working the two make sure you get an break and don't overwork yourself so they keep you company - Velvet likes to give you gifts as an thank you secretly when you leave buying you expensive things and when you pick it up staring at it confused she loves how you would be all giddy - She makes sure to buy you things that are expensive treating you like her sugar baby instead of her friend - The first time she gave small gifts you were confused since you didn't know who gave it to you and worriedly looked around asking velvet and veneer if this was fan mail to them - Veneer stared at you confused but noticed how velvet denied that she had any idea of the box before you even questioned her if she knew - Veneer would laugh at his sister whenever she tries to add more gifts to your desks cause she loved seeing your smile especially when she saw you wearing the gifts she bought you and leaves on your desks

- You also scolded crimp about how she was helping them and made sure to tell the authorities crimp was also apart of it... You ain't letting crimp slide she helped the two - Even though that happened you still visited them in prison even though you cried when seeing the two stare at you with shame mainly Veneer - You would smuggle in small gifts for them and Velvet would always take it quickly cause you knew she loved gifts as she always thanked you anyway taking it with an smile. - Velvet at the beginning of your relationship can’t initiate shit, so you’ll have to hug her and/or kiss her well you have to jump up and down shouting at her or you are just shaking her pants legs if she is wearing pants or pat her shoes to get her attention - When you entered her room to see her shoving a troll into a diamond perfume bottle which you froze at while veneer held a look of panic trying to stop Velvet before he froze making eye contact with you - You stared at him taking a small step back as your small tiny legs started to run from them where velvet made eye contact with you shouting at veneer to grab you while the troll that Velvet once held that was now in the bottle shouted for you to run. - You were caught and held in velvet's hand as you stared at her as she told you to be quiet telling you that this had to be done as you bit her thumb as she nearly dropped you before throwing you into the bottle with the other troll as you screamed reaching your hand out as the bottle cap shut making you stuck with the other troll.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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