intelligent flirting

Bon Soir [Lafayette x Reader] Part One

Description: You, an American patriot from a loyalist family, catch the eye of the Marquis De Lafayette one night at a tavern. After your first night with the enigmatic frenchman, you realize how turbulent life can really get in a time as turbulent as this. 

Warnings For This Chapter: Smut, alcohol, mild swearing, and mild Lams, where I could slip it in ;) 

Notes: So, there will be five parts to this story. It will, if we’re being honest here, be updated probably once or twice a week until it is finished. This story is a mix of Hamilton’s characters and actual historical stuff, and there will also be lots of appearances from the rev set in this fic, so brrrah, brrrah!! Enjoy. 

||Part Two||


It’s a beautiful night in the colony of New York, the moon full and the usual chill in the air slightly warmed. Besides it being a lovely night, it was also quite rowdy- but during these turbulent times, you couldn’t expect less from the Northern colonies.  

You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders… it’s really not a night to be out for a lady, but you couldn’t care less. Your family still clings to the proverbial olive branch, one of the less popular voices of loyalist reconciliation. You’re a patriot, through and through, and any chance you have to escape your frankly shameful homestead under an anonymous family name at night to “cavort” with those who share your views on freedom, you take.

Slipping down a dark alley with the hood of your cloak pulled up, you find your way into the even rowdier Fraunces Tavern. Looking around, you smile. Men clinking their sloshing drinks together, shouts and jeers at the king tossed around liberally- this was the beginning of a revolution, and you’d be damned if you missed it.

“You lookin’ for a good time, honey?” some guy with a heavy Boston accent asks you from the table next to the door, and you turn to him.

“I’m looking for a drink, and whatever good time I can derive from that.” The guy still stares at you, waiting for a follow up, so you decide to win even more favour by voicing your views. “Fuck the king?”

The entire table bursts out in cheers and pounds their fists and mugs down repeatedly as you smirk and saunter past them. You get to the bar, and ask for a Sam Adams, before turning around and surveying. To answer the drunk man’s question, you aren’t actively seeking that sort of good time, really… but, nights like these were full of exceptions.

“Here you are, miss,” the friendly bartender nods to you, then pauses, “I’ve seen you in here a couple times now, and I don’t recall your name.” He looks genuinely confused. “Who’s your husband?”  

“I’ll let you know once I find one,” you wink, and cross the tavern to occupy a booth. Just as you’re lifting up your skirts to sit, the door crashes open, and in come four very loud young men.

“What time is it?!” one yells, and the other three yell back, “Showtime!” while cackling and slapping each other on the back.

You roll your eyes again, imagining all the fights they were sure to start tonight. The bartender seems to know them, and pours four ales for them as well. Snatching up his drink, the short one with the ponytail and goatee marches right up to the table in the middle, getting up on it and chugging half his mug.

“To the revolution!” he finally bursts out with, and almost trips off the table. The large one with the beanie catches him, shaking his head with a grin, and the second shortest one with curly hair and freckles joins the talker with a close arm around his shoulder.

“Now this is the place to be, amiright boys?!” freckles shouts, taking a long drink.

“Oui oui, mon ami,” another voice chuckles, and your interest is immediately peaked. A frenchman in the colonies? The excitement of these taverns is incomparable, and it is exciting to say the least to hear someone from so far away- you know a little of the language, or what you had learned as a girl.

You watch in quiet admiration as a tall, athletically built man with dark hair tied up in a bun and a close trimmed beard steps out, carrying two mugs of ale. He hands one to beanie man, and plops his own down on the table. “We must tell the king casse toi with our war effort!”

“We will, Laf,” beanie assures, “But first? Horses.”

“What?” freckles and goatee both say at the same time.

“Corsets,” beanie laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I meant corsets.”

“Hercules, you are an idiot,” Laf deadpans.

“I’m the most mature one here,” Hercules shoots back.

“Easy, when tes amis are Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens.”

Hercules lets out a booming laugh, and is soon joined by Laf’s own charming snicker. Alex and John are too enamoured with their own private conversation to notice much.

Your eyes train on Laf. If he was french, he must have a longer name than that… you’re determined to know it. He was undeniably a charmer- he was handsome, dashing as a prince, and very stylish. With the words he had uttered earlier, you found it safe to assume he’s as passionate about American independence as you are.

You make an excuse to walk by.

Heyyy there,” goatee (Alexander)? calls, swivelling his head to look at you.

Bingo.

Hercules lets out a low whistle as you turn to face them. “I don’t mean to be too forward, but madamn.”

"What the ever loving merde is that supposed to mean, Hercules?” Laf’s face scrunches up, and Herc just shrugs.

“Works on most of ‘em.”

“I’m Alexander Hamilton, bastard, orphan, son of a whore,” Alex jumps up, grasping your hands, and you can see the gears in his slightly drunk mind turning. “So I’d love to flirt for like, a really long time because you’re pretty and everything, but there’s a revolution to plot-”

“-And drink to!” John adds.

“-And drink to, as my beautiful lover Jackie just piped in and waaait, I’m probably not supposed to say shit like that in a tavern full of guys who will probably have me castrated for it, but hey, we die like men, right?”

“Yo, um, sorry 'bout him,” John blushes with a slight slur, coming over to guide Alex back to his seat. “He gets- *hic*- chatty when he’s tipsy.” You just laugh, letting them know it’s no big deal. John doesn’t seem very interested in you romantically or sexually, only greets with a good natured- albeit tipsy as well- smile. Hercules gets up to introduce himself.

“Hercules Mulligan. I’m Irish.” He drops his voice down to a whisper. “That’s kind of my thing.” Laf gets up to hip bump Hercules out of the way, take your hand, and press a kiss to it. You blush deeply.

“Bon soir, belle mademoiselle. I am Paul Yves Roch-”

Heeere we go,” Alex slurs.

“-Gilbert de Motier de Marquis de Lafayette,” Laf finishes with a glare to his friends, then turns back to you with a gaze that could only be described as… lust ridden?

“Plaisir,” you reply in french, and his eyes widen, his entire body straightening like an arrow in excitement.

“You speak my mother tongue, cherie?!”

“Only a little,” you confess with a timid giggle, “I’m not French, monsieur Lafayette, only acquired some words from my studies.”

“Gorgeous and intelligent,” he flirts, “A lady after my heart.”

“Handsome and bold,” you volley back, “A man after mine.”

“OHHHH SHIT!” John shouts, and Alex begins to laugh.

“GUESS WHO’S GETTING IT IN TONIGHT?!”

“Not you two,” Laf growls, and John and Alex tumble over each other watching you both. Hercules just rolls his eyes, and downs his drink.

“Care to drink with us?” Lafayette offers, outstretching his hand, and you happily accept. Hercules gets up to grab you another beer, and slides it over to you. John begins to chug his second, and you smirk, taking it as a challenge. Downing yours to the last drop, you’ve finally earned the respect of Hercules Mulligan as he bangs on the table and shakes his head.

“You are getting better and better as the night goes on,” Laf whispers, and you laugh.

“Is that the alcohol talking?”

“On the contrary, cherie, I am still on my first… though I may be thinking with something other than my mind,” he alludes, and you feel a shiver run through you.

He is very attractive.

“What brings you to the colonies?” you ask Lafayette conversationally, and he takes a sip of his ale.

“Revolution.”

“You’re here for congressional duties?” you feign ignorance, though you know how to identify a congressman- powdered wigs, brightly coloured jackets, and stuffy mannerisms. Nothing Laf possessed.

“Ah no, mademoiselle. War is imminent- that is the talk here and overseas. I will fight as one of you for your glorious country!”

“Ayyy, to our fighting frenchman!” Alex lifts his mug, and John raises his as well.

“Very brave,” you murmur, “I wish I could serve in the continental army.”

“You can still do your part at home,” Laf assures, taking your hands excitedly, “You can make gunpowder, you can sew uniforms, you can…” he suddenly hesitates, lowering his eyes, “Pray for and write letters to your husband.”

“Why does everyone in this tavern assume I have a husband?” you tease, and he looks back up.

“Forgive me. No one has, eh… courted you yet?”

“Courted me? Oh, quite a few. I have yet to accept,” you giggle, “I suppose I’m just as hard to please as the next young lady.”

“I, too, have very specific tastes,” he nods, and bites his lip, “Mais, it would be very nice to have a woman to boost my morale on the battlefield.”

“Wait… hey, what’s your name?” John laughs, “We didn’t even ask!”

“Oh,” you blush, eye contact with Lafayette broken, “Um…” You sigh. It shouldn’t be any trouble to give them your real name. “(y/n) (y/l/n).”

Everyone repeats your name, raises a glass, and drinks. Lafayette smirks at you a moment longer, then drinks as well.

As the night wears on, you start to become even closer with the group. Stories are passed around, drinking games are played, and talk that would’ve sounded like treason in many other colonies flowed freely from your mouth with the boys. As the night begins to dwindle with the candles burning down close by, hands begin to wander, skirts began to lift a few inches, and blood begins to rise.

“Raise one last glass to freedom,” John finally says, somewhat soberly, as everyone stands up, “Something they can never take away.”

“No matter what they tell you,” Herc adds, placing a hand over his heart.

“Raise a glass to the… five of us, here tonight,” Alex nods, looking to you, “Our cause is a great one.”

“King George will never stand a chance,” you finish, and everyone downs their last sip and sits back down. With that, Laf takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckle. You turn to him, and take note of how he’s staring at your lips. Danger and adrenaline course through your veins, imagining just what he could be picturing right now. Practically in his lap by now, you shift your hips a little, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“It is getting late, ma cherie,” he murmurs, obviously holding back, and begins to stand.

“It is,” you nod, moving to brush your fingers along the hem of his blue coat, and grasp your fingers firmly in his lapel. His eyes dart to meet yours, dark and warning, and his fingers find yours as he lets out a wistful sigh.

“(y/n)… I am a gentleman, and you have had too much to drink.”

“I assure you,” you grin, turning the tables and ghosting a kiss over his knuckles, “I have not.”

He spends a long time staring at you, debating mentally. You can feel him hardening in his breeches under you, but despite his uncomfortable expression and beading sweat, he doesn’t make even the slightest nudge to meet your grinding movements.

“Are you quite certain?” he finally asks, interest beginning to spark again in his eyes as he realizes that maybe you do want him like this.

“All I want is to feel your lips on my neck,” you confirm with a whisper in his ear, and he slots his large hand around your wrist, standing you up. The three others don’t even question it as Laf leads you out the back door, and the once the heavy wooden door closes, you’re both free. He immediately presses the front of you right up against the brick, pulling your hair aside and grazing his teeth over the back of your neck.

“Then, if there are no reservations on either of our parts, I will give you everything you need,” he growls, and continues his attack on your neck, showering kisses up and down. You flip around so that you can face him, and he pins you back again, opening up the neck of your dress just a little more for better access.

Lafayette’s gaze is hungry. Your excitement is known to him as he reaches under your dress, unbuttons your underclothes and realizes you’re already wet for him.

“So eager,” he groans, “Such an eager little kitten, desperate for her papa, hm?”

“Oh,” you sigh, his words sending pulses down to your core. He pulls your underclothes off, but as his long fingers are about to breach you, he pauses.

“You… have been touched or taken before, yes?”

You bite your lip, look around, and nod shyly. If word of that got out around here, you’d be off the market, as it were…. not that you particularly desired to on the market, but that was a different matter entirely. His face blossoms into a grin, and he lifts your legs up to wrap around him.

“Hold onto me, cherie, do not let go,” he murmurs, and once your arms are secure around his neck as well, he uses one hand to unbutton his breeches. You can already see the outline of his large cock, and once he has everything undone, he pulls it out.

“Monsieur, you’re so big,” you whine, and he gazes at you, licking his lips.

“We can make it fit, ma cherie,” he whispers, “Spread your legs a little wider for me… that is it, kitten… like that.”

You keen under the pet name, and he positions himself at your entrance before finally pushing in, groaning together with you as you tighten around him.

“Oui, oui, yes…” he breathes, “That is good… so good for me…” He sucks his lip between his teeth, and after a few seconds, begins to move, nudging you back against the wall with each deep thrust. He’s very large, so he has no trouble hitting that spot that drives you crazy, but he makes it even better when his fingers find your clit; Laf has a different approach than most men do, though- the select few you’d been with (if they make the effort to find it at all) rub with harsh, rough pushes… Lafayette massages you in slow circles, making you moan for him.

Leaning forward, the intensity between you increases as your foreheads meet, lips drifting close to each other and parting, almost kissing but not for minutes at a time. The teasing was getting to him, and he finally surges forward, breathing in your breath. You give his bottom lip a feisty bite, and he smiles, drawing away.

“You are a true northern belle, mademoiselle (y/n),” he mumbles, panting, “You are not like other ladies.”

“Oh, on the contrary sir,” you reply, “I simply don’t bother with the false customs. I say, fuck tradition, and fuck anybody who wishes to advise me otherwise.”

“There is a revolution on because of Americans who share your general mindset, ma chou,” he grins, and kisses you again.

As you both begin to race toward your climax, his thrusts increase, and you’re soon being pounded into the wall, legs tight around his ass and cries being muffled in his blue coat.

“Please… ah, Laf….”

“(y/n), so perfect, j’aime votre parfum…”

As he whispers your name, you hear voices, and turn to see two men walking by the alley on the road, in hats and coats. They sound southern.

“What if th…th-” you gasp, and Laf strokes your cheek.

“They will not see us, it is too dark. Besides, why would anybody pay attention to a stray kitten, begging in an alley, like you?”

“Ah,” you throb again at his dark laugh, and he shrugs.

“Also, the alleyway behind a tavern is where all the drunkards stumble out to vomit. No respectable man or woman wants to see that.”

“What an arousing image,” you scowl, and lean in for another kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips once you part, and licks a line up your neck to just below your ear; you’re losing yourself to the pleasure. “Do you think you can come for me, ma (y/n)?” Laf rasps in your ear, stroking over your clit fondly, and you nod with a little whine, crying out his name softly as he slams in particularly hard. Circling his hips to guide you through a long orgasm, he lets out a little gasp of his own after you’ve finished. As you shake and pant his name, he sets you down carefully before quickly pulling out and taking himself in hand, jerking frantically a couple times and coming like a shot against the brick wall. Your name falls from his lips a few times like a prayer, and soon, you’re both sated and exchanging lazy tongue kisses, tasting each other’s mouths in the night air.

It’s chillier than it was earlier. You should get home before your one of your sisters or father notices you’re gone.

“When do you leave to join the ranks?” you ask, staring into his eyes. He does up his buttons precisely, patiently and one at a time.

“Very soon, I assume, cherie.”

“How very childish of me, but… what you said, about having someone to look out for you…”

“Mmm?”

“Will you…” you look down, embarrassed, and take off a ring on your pinky finger. “Remember me over a couple beers with your friends?”

His eyes light up, and he presses a long kiss to your cheek.

“When I wake up and when I fall asleep, (y/n).”

You smile a little. “Thank you for your service.”

He kisses your hand one last time. “If it takes fighting a war and, eh…” he leans in to your ear, brushing your hair back, “getting better acquainted behind a tavern to meet, it will, most certainly, have been worth it, ma chou,” he smiles back.

You dance and sigh your way home, ignorant of every redcoat who gives you a second dirty look. With men like the Marquis de Lafayette and his friends leading the troops, those bastards’ll be back home where they belong in no time.

anonymous asked:

CJKM for Tim Drake plz

Ivy - Jen I could just wait until you come over again for you to finish them. I know that you have an obsession with completing things that you started, but you could always do it then.

Jen - no I muST COMPLETE


C - Cum

Tim likes to release on your body, often on your stomach or your lips. And for some reason he always comes a lot, so the turn-on of the view usually leads to another round, if he doesn’t fall asleep immediately afterward.

J - Jack Off

Tim does, usually when work has stressed him out too much and he doesn’t want to bother you. He does end up bothering you in a different way though, as he’s insanely loud when he moans, and you just can’t help but wonder what he’s doing in that room of his. He get’s so into it that you could be smiling slyly at him from his door and he wouldn’t even notice until he’d came.

K - Kink

On desks, on washing/drying machines (the vibrations), after a lot of time working/patrol, masturbation, nuzzling and closeness, in costume (now that’s a fun story), or in the shower.

M - Motivation

Any of his kinks work as a good turn-on, but other ways to get him going include; showing intelligence, flirting with him in front of people he’s jealous of (another fun story), wearing his clothing, touching him while he’s working, and your legs.

The signs according to my squad
  • ARIES:
  • Mean humor, can be a jerk at times but it's just as cute and loveable. Is low-key horny. Gets really anxious when they have a lot of things to do and their temperament is just like a flame; unpredictable.
  • TAURUS:
  • Obnoxiously loud and sometimes falling in the annoying category. Really sensible, but won't talk about his relationships and related stuff unless you ask. They're noble and kind. Never shuts up and doesn't know when to stop asking/doing things.
  • GEMINI:
  • Really great friend, supports you when you need it but distances themselves for a while. Natural flirt. Indecisive. Fun to be around. You'll never know what they're thinking.
  • LEO:
  • Really funny, is loyal and honest. They know what to say and when you need to hear it. Their flirting game is smooth af. Genuine people. Kind and friendly. Easy to talk. Literally the life of the party. They stress really easily.
  • VIRGO:
  • Mysterious af. They'll never tell you their feelings or problems, even if they're asked about it. Reserved depending with who ir where they are. Folllows the crowd. Loves art. Problem solver. Motherly figure of the group.
  • LIBRA:
  • Indecisive af, shy and quiet, but more when they're mad. They are a big cutie pie. Natural flirt and intelligent. Responsible. Tries to act tough even when they're hurting on the inside. Everybody loves them. Considerate and overall just cute.
  • SAGITTARIUS:
  • Very energetic, creative, gives the best advices, has good sense of fashion and is very loyal. Always provides unconditional support. Is the best friend anyone could ask for, but it takes time to gain their trust. They're not patient and tends to overthink things a lot.
  • CAPRICORN:
  • Funny as hell. Very mature for their age. Live while we're young is their moto. Very good listeners and has a very good memorie. Wild. One word - Yolo. Their actions always has a meaning.
  • Note: If there are missing signs is because there is no one in the group under that sign. These are the sun signs.
Jealous

Written for a request by @helenareid4evah for a classic SpencerxJealousReader.
Enjoy and Merry Christmas!


The new intern with the BAU was driving me insane. Absolutely up a wall. I wasn’t sure I could even handle being near her much longer.
Annaliese.
With her pretty, unique name, and her long, dark red hair and those green eyes of hers. With her straight, white teeth that curved into a perfect smile. Not to mention her high IQ and advanced field skills and natural affinity for profiling. Stupid Annaliese.
To be honest, I probably wouldn’t hate Annaliese so much if it weren’t for the fact that she was flirting with Spencer.
Sweet Spencer, the genius who never wore matching socks and always had a cup of coffee on hand. The doctor who was too smart for all of us, but who still held an undeniable charm that I, in particular, had truly fallen for. Spencer Reid is one of the only men in the world who has never let me down. He’s kind and gentle, with a golden heart. He’s selfless and caring and he’s everything to me. He’s my best friend, and now also my boyfriend, but nobody knows that part. We have to keep it quiet because of fraternization rules within the FBI.
Which is part of why I was boiling with rage over Annaliese. She was sitting on Spencer’s desk less than six feet away from me, laughing and twirling a strand of her shiny hair around her finger.
Just as she’d been she’d been doing for nearly an hour now. I was supposed to be doing paper work, but watching a beautiful and intelligent woman flirt shamelessly with my boyfriend and not be able to say a word about it…well, that made paper work a little bit difficult.
The flirting went on most of the day, and by the time we were all starting to get ready to head home for the night, I was feeling completely miserable. Doubt was flooding through my mind, questions flowing one right after the next.
What if he wasn’t as into me as I’d thought?
What if he liked Annaliese?
What if he left me?
I left Quantico without a word to Spencer. I had just curled up on my couch with my fears and a Lemony Snicket book when there was a loud knock on my door. I sighed, not at all in the mood. I stayed still, hoping that whoever was at the door would just go away.
Knock Knock Knock.
“(Y/N)?” My breath hitched at the sound of Spencer’s call for me.
“(Y/N)? I know you’re in there, (Y/N). Please open the door. I’ve called and texted and you left work without telling me goodbye. I’m worried about you. Please just open the door and let me know if you’re okay.”
Reluctantly, I stood from the couch and padded over to the door. I unlocked it and it swung open. Spencer looked concerned as he met my eyes.
“(Y/N),” he said. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” I answered.
“You don’t sound okay,” he replied. “Can-can I come in?” I nodded wordlessly and moved aside to let him in, shutting the door behind him.
“Why didn’t you say goodbye to me tonight?” He asked.
“You seemed occupied,” I replied bitterly.
“I wasn’t,” he said. “And even if I were, you know I would always make time for you, (Y/N).”
“Even if you could be spending time with Annaliese instead?” I asked scathingly. He furrowed his brow.
“What?” He asked.
“You heard me, Spencer,” I sighed. “I get it, whatever. She’s beautiful and smart, obviously. She can keep up with you easier than I can, and she’s way prettier than me. She’s better in the field, and a natural at everything she’s ever done. I totally understand why you would want to be with her instead of me.”
By the time I finished speaking, there were tears in my eyes, threatening to escape.
“(Y/N),” he began softly. “Look at me.” I reluctantly raised my eyes to his, finding his gaze soft. He reached out and cupped my cheek in his hand.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t even realize. I was barely paying Annaliese any attention today, and it didn’t even enter my mind that she was being flirtatious.”
“How could you not see that?” I asked. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead lightly.
“Because I only have eyes for one woman in the world,” he whispered. I blinked and tears streamed down my cheeks.
“No, shh,” he murmured, pulling me close to his chest, wrapping me up in his warm, strong arms.
“Don’t cry,” he begged. “Please don’t cry, (Y/N).”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“No, no. I’m sorry,” he insisted. “I should’ve realized. I love you so much, you know that?” I nodded against him.
“(Y/N), I know people have hurt you a lot in your life, but I’m not them, okay?” He whispered. “I want to spend my whole life making you happy, and I’m not about to leave you for anyone, I promise.”
“Okay,” I said softly.
“I love you, (Y/N),” he said.
“I love you too, Spence.”
“Come on,” he said, tugging me toward the couch. “Want me to read your book to you?” I smiled slightly as he pulled me down beside him and I settled into his side.
“You know I love it when you read to me,” I said, and he smiled as he picked up the book.
“Yeah, I know,” he murmured. I fell asleep against him, to the sound of his voice.

Preference 3 ~ When the ladies get jealous
Based off this requestA/N: Sorry this one is kinda long for a preference. I got carried away. I will make a part two with Kira, Malia and Cora in the future!Lydia:

To you, she doesn’t seem to get jealous a lot. Lydia always seems pretty much in control of every situation, ever. But when she gets really jealous, you can totally feel it. You were at your locker when a hand landed on your arse, making you turn around in a swift motion, just to see Lydia smiling at you. “Hey there,” You chuckled “Hey, how was your class?” She asked, placing a strand of (Y/H/C) hair behind your ear. “Alright I guess. Boring as usual, but there’s a guy who came and asked me if I could help him. He said he saw how good I was in English and asked me to help him with the poetry stuff, after school! That means I’m actually not that bad in school and that you’re not the only one who’s kinda intelligent in this couple!” you said excitedly. Your grin fell when you saw that Lydia was not smiling at all, “Hey you okay?” “You don’t need anyone to confirm that you’re intelligent,” She mumbled through gritted teeth, “because you know you are. This guy doesn’t think you’re intelligent! He was just flirting and hoping to get in your pants!” “Woah, Lydia! Baby, don’t worry! It’s just studying,” you calmly placed your hands on her shoulders.  “It’s never just studying. And you know that! /It wasn’t for us!/”     The bell rang and you went to your locker to get your bag, getting ready to go home with that boy from your English class. You were placing your books in your bag when a hand touched your shoulder. You looked up to see the boy leaning against the locker beside yours, “hey, ready to go?” “Yeah, just give me a minute!” You bent down to get one of your pencil cases at the bottom of your mess.  Little did you know that Lydia was watching your every movement. And his. As soon as she saw the boy eyeing your ass, she walked over to you two, wearing that beautiful smile of hers and swaying her hips. Her body language said ‘killer queen’ while her mind meant 'murder’. She touched your shoulder and you stood up straight, your pencil case in hand, “oh hey-!” Suddenly, her lips were on yours, her arm was snaked around your waist and you couldn’t help to kiss back, after your surprise subsided. Lydia pulled away, a smirk on her lips and looked at the boy from English class.  “Okay you know what, never mind. I’m good with poetry!” He walked away, leaving you dumbfounded.  “Lydia!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms.  She place her hand on her hip, “what? He was looking at your ass, I couldn’t just stand back and watch!”   Allison:

Allison isn’t the jealous type. Unless you count the times she is, of course. She isn’t normally very possessive of you. She lets you talk to any boy or girl and trusts you as much as you trust her. But apparently, tonight she didn’t want to share you.

You were sitting between her and Lydia on the McCall household’s couch, Scott was sitting on the floor right in front of you and Stiles was sitting right in front of the strawberry blond haired girl. The boys were playing video games and Allison and Lydia had more fun talking together than actually watching who was beating who.

“Scott’s gonna beat your ass, Stiles!” You laughed, your hand absentmindedly playing with Scott’s hair.

“Over my dead body!” Stiles cried out, his face crunched in concentration.

You kept petting Scott’s hair all while you watched them play and commented on it once in a while, saying things like “Gosh your hair are soft!” or “I swear I could play with your hair for hours!”

Eventually, Allison stood up and left to the kitchen, walking a little faster and rougher than normally. You gave a questioning look in the way she went and stood, following her with an “I’ll be back.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked quietly as you approached her.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been spending the whole night balantly flirting with my ex right under my eyes!” Allison whisper-yelled right up in your face.

“Hey, I wasn’t flirting with Scott or anything! I was just touching his hair and talking with Stiles and him!”

She huffed.

“What? I can’t talk to my friends anymore? Even if he’s your ex-boyfriend, he’s still my friend, Al.”

Allison’s expression softened and she chuckled, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” You kissed her forehead.

Michonne should have a sexy love interest...

I kinda wish the show would create a new character that was probably in his late 30’s to early 40’s, handsome, mature, and intelligent to flirt with Michonne.

It just got me thinking of that since I’m sick of people making excuses as to why Rick runs and hugs everybody else including Carol and all this Jessie babble and the fact that Rick gets shipped with everybody meanwhile when it comes to Michonne in the fandom, it’s like, “Rick or Nobody.”  *rolls eyes*

I’m in favor of listing male love interests for her after next week’s episode if they are going to shove Jessie down our throats.  I might have fun with this, it might give me an excuse to google sexy men anyways. lol