#Fiddles having to clean up the mess lmao

[lipglossanon]

What If We Could

Best friend!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

A little more savory tier commission from @porcelainseashore and dedicated to AliBelleRosetta ✨

Word Count: 2404 (I’m not surprised at this point lmao)

Warnings: MDNI, neighbor Leon, crushes, jealous reader, light flirting, smoking, light voyeurism, teasing, half naked reader

proofread ✍️

↺ ◁◁͏͏ ll ▷▷ ⋮≡

Stepping out the back door, your breath mists in front of your face. The warmth of late summer has segued easily into the coolness of fall. You tug the sleeves of your overly big sweatshirt—one you stole from Leon although you can’t recall when—to make sure they don’t fall too low past your wrists. Thinking of your best friend brings a warmth—a tiny ember burning in your chest—and a soft smile to your face.

Looking over at his house, you're thankful for the millionth time that you guys ended up being neighbors. Stepping out into your backyard, you pick your way through the leaf-strewn path that runs between your yard and Leon’s. Glancing over, you take in the old oak tree with its tired rope swing that sits in the middle of both properties. 

It’s been years since it’s been used; musing to yourself, you think you must’ve been about eight years old when you quit playing on it. And the last time the swing was even used had to have been when you and Leon dared each other to swing as high as possible, then jump off. Wood smoke pervades your senses, and you breathe deep. It drags you from your reminiscing, focus shifting back to Leon’s house and, more importantly, to the open garage. 

Your fingers nervously rub across the mixtape in the front pocket of your hooded sweatshirt. Leon’s never had a bad word to say about your mixes, even letting you demo a few live in front of your home setup, but it always sends a frisson of nerves through you when giving him one—especially one you’ve made specifically for him.

Poking your head around the corner, you take in your best friend while he doesn’t realize you’re there. He’s frowning down at the engine, a smear of grease already staining the apple of one cheek. His fringe hangs low over his face, head tilted forward as he works on his Jeep. That low burning ember in your chest sparks to life. 

His blue eyes dart from part to part, mentally assessing his next move. His toolbox lies at his feet, lid flipped open and tools organized. Pushing off the side of the garage makes enough noise to draw his attention. A smile lights up his face when he realizes it’s you. 

“Hey! Didn’t think you were gonna come over today,” he steps away from the hood, grabbing up an old oil rag to start cleaning his hands. 

You shrug, “Didn’t feel like beatmatching today.”

You fiddle with the mixtape in your sweater before pulling it out. “Made you a new one.”

His eyes are soft when he walks over to pluck it from your hands. “Thanks. I think my last one is about worn out.”

He chuckles, and you grin a little bashfully. Throwing his arm over your shoulders, he guides you into the garage and over onto the ratty couch that’s been here forever. While you flop down onto the faded green cushions, springs groaning at the motion, Leon slips the new mixtape into his stereo. A heavy beat fills the speakers as he walks back over to join you on the couch.

“This one's yours?”

You nod, “I’ve got a few new tracks I’ve been messing around with.”

“Cool,” he relaxes into the cushions, head resting on the back. “Man, I’m tired.”

“Long night?”

“Kinda. Had to finish that paper for biology.”

Humming, you slip your shoes off and kick your feet up onto the couch. “I hate that class.”

He snorts, “Tell me about it.”

“Hey, Leon, I hate that class.”

He shakes his head at your sly smile, “Smartass.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What’re you? Five?” 

You laugh, and he huffs a breath that you know is covering his own amusement. He pulls out a nearly empty pack of cigarettes from his pocket, smacking the bottom with his palm before working the last one out and slipping it into his mouth.

“Hey,” you perk up, stretching your legs out to prod a sock-covered foot at Leon’s leg. “I thought you quit.”

“I did,” he mumbles, lips pinched around the cigarette filter, hands patting at his jean pockets as he feels for his lighter.

Making a little hum at the discovery, he tugs it out of his left pocket, flipping the hinge of the zippo to spark the flint until a little gold flame appears. Cupping his hand, he takes a pull off the butt, snapping the Zippo shut with a flick of his wrist before blowing smoke from his nose. 

“C’mon, share,” you poke him again, and he clamps a hand around your ankle bone. Butterflies take flight in your sternum, insides fizzing like carbonated soda. 

It’s not the first time Leon’s caused this feeling. It’s something you’ve been avoiding by looking at too closely. 

“Say please,” he smirks at you, cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth.

You pout, and he runs his fingers underneath the hem of the leg of your jeans, calloused fingers brushing the skin. The fizzy excitement is back, bubbling in your sternum. 

“Please, Leon,” you murmur.

His eyes shift, the blue now a shade darker, while he plucks the cigarette from his lips. “See? How hard was that?”

Leaning forward, you take the filtered end and pull a drag off the lit cig. You both fall into a charged silence—not only sharing smoke, but a secondhand kiss with each pass of the filter between you two. Every now and again, Leon ashes the cigarette onto an old glass tray sitting on the floor. 

He keeps his hand loosely wrapped around your ankle the entire time, fingers mindlessly tracing across your skin. Feeling a little bold, you slip your other foot into his lap, and he hums. Giddiness at the action makes you a little lightheaded. 

He offers the butt to you. “Last one?”

You shake your head, “All yours.”

He takes one last drag of what’s left of the cigarette, then stubs it out in the ashtray. He lounges back on the couch, running his free hand through his hair.

“Actually.. what time is it?” He rolls his head to look over at you.

Squinting up at the silly cat clock on the wall, you read out the time. “You got a plane to catch?”

He rolls his eyes with a smile and gently pushes your feet off his lap. “No, I got a date with Heidi, said I’d pick her up at about six or so.”

Jealousy rears its green-eyed gaze and lasers you in its sights. The bubbly feeling from earlier sours, leaving confusion in its wake. 

“Oh.” The word slips from your lips quietly, softly. You thought they had broken up? Squishing down that nagging voice in your head, you clear your throat. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He stands up and holds his hand out to help you off the couch. 

“Of course, we’ve got history together.” You clasp his hand and let him pull you alongside him. “Don’t stay out too late.”

He chuckles and nudges you with his elbow, “No promises.”

Pretending that doesn't slice into your heart as well as buoys the jealousy sitting like a stone in your chest, you nod and step around him. As you head for the opening of the garage, his fingers tangle with yours and tug you to a stop. 

“Hey,” his voice is low and honeywarm when you turn to look at him. “Thanks for the music.”

He squeezes your hand gently, blue eyes searching your face. You can’t help but smile at him, squeezing his hand back. 

“You’re welcome, Leon.”

He grins, boyish and happy, then drops your hand to grab up his lighter and empty pack of cigarettes to stash them back in his pocket.

“Later!” He calls out, and you watch him head into his house through the kitchen door.

Cradling your hand to your chest, you walk back to your house, deep in thought with your tangled feelings. 

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Leon pulls into his driveway before the clock even strikes ten. He sits behind the steering wheel, eyes unseeing as he looks out the windshield. The date went off without a hitch; Heidi and he got along perfectly. But he couldn’t stop thinking back to you this afternoon. How you looked with a haze of smoke in the air, eyes glittering at him from across the couch.

You brought him another of your mixtapes, so shy and sweet—it’s cute, but he’s too chicken to ever tell you that. His heart lurched in his chest at seeing your face fall when he admitted why he had to leave early; it was telling in that you didn’t even realize you had done it. 

Climbing out of his Jeep, he digs out his new pack of cigarettes and decides to light one up before going inside. With his thoughts still on you, his feet take him around the side of the garage to the oak tree straddling the invisible line between your yards. He leans against the trunk, eyes flicking up to your bedroom window and almost choking on the smoke he blows out from his mouth on a sudden exhalation. 

The soft glow of the lamp on your nightstand bathes your room in a golden hue, fitting for the warmth mounting in Leon’s body. His eyes can’t stop taking you in, clad only in a loose shirt and sweats. He steps closer out from under the shadow of the tree to take a better look. You’re moving around your room, headphones over your ears, lost in your own little world.

Coming to a stop, Leon takes a long drag from his cigarette, slowly blowing out the smoke while he watches you dance around your room. You slip your sweats down and off, now only in your shirt and plain cotton panties. His heart pumps harder, pulse jumping in his neck. Leon knows he shouldn’t be peeping on you like this—knows he should turn around and go back home so you won’t think he’s some kinda pervert, but the temptation of you is too tantalizing. 

You bend forward to drop something onto your nightstand and glance up, locking eyes with him. Leon doesn’t move except to pull the filter away from his mouth to breathe out a smoke ring. You slowly stand tall, body language cautious. He’s close enough he can see you bite your lip, seeming to make up your mind as you tug on the bottom of your shirt.

He can’t stop the low groan from slipping from his lips; thankfully no one is around, when you slowly bring your shirt over your head and drop it into the floor. You stand there, like a vision, in just panties and a bra. He brings the cigarette back up to his lips to take a long drag. You tease your fingers underneath your bra straps, slipping them down one at a time. Leon’s heart is in his throat, eyes never leaving yours as you reach behind your back and undo the clasps. 

Once you bring your arms forward to let your bra fall away from your body, his eyes drop to greedily take in your bare breasts. Arousal pools in his gut while he stares at your soft peaks, your nipples hardening under his gaze. Cupping your breasts in your hands, you rub your thumbs over the tight buds, making him groan and run a shaky hand through his hair.

He drops the cig and stubs it out under his boot. Running his other hand down his thigh, he cups himself through his jeans, groaning at the pressure on his chubbed cock. He watches you bite your lip again, eyes fluttering when you lightly run your fingers around your areola before grazing your nipples. His palm presses harder onto his bulge, hips jumping at the dull pleasure. 

You smile at him, secretive and coquettish, bending forward again to pick up the shirt you dropped earlier. Leon bites back the disappointed groan when you pull your shirt back on, blowing him a saucy kiss before closing the curtains on your window. 

Leon shakes his head, arousal making his thoughts feel thick and slow. In a daze, he makes his way back over to his house and up to his own room. Deciding to take a cold shower before falling into bed, Leon knows that a line may have been crossed, and he’s not sure that he really cares.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Apparently it’s something neither of you are going to bring up. You were already seated in your usual spot when Leon came rushing in, minutes from the lecture starting. He shoots you his usual smile and a quick hello before pulling out his laptop and textbook. You frown at him, a quizzical pull of your brows, and he just winks. 

Shrugging a little, you turn back to the front of the class just as the teacher walks in, closing the door behind them. It’s silent between you two while the history lecture takes place. Once the lesson drags to a close, you wait for Leon to finish packing away his things. 

“You wanna grab an early lunch? I slept through my alarm and missed breakfast,” he grouses, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.

“Sure. Anywhere specific?” You fall into step with him as you leave the classroom, skin feeling warm when your arms brush. 

“Where’s that place that you found last week?” He pushes the door open, letting you exit the building first. 

“Oh, it’s just around the corner. They’ve got a decent selection, sandwiches, wraps, and the like,” you purse your lips in thought, and Leon slips his arm over your shoulders. 

Butterflies swarm your stomach, and you give him a side eye. It’s not unusual for Leon to do it, but after last night, you’re unsure of where you stand with him. 

“Sounds good to me,” he yawns. “Damn, I gotta start heading to bed earlier.”

Neither of you say anything about why he was up late, and by the end of the day, it’s like some weird shared dream that you may have had—distant, yet the feeling remains. 

And except for the times when you catch him staring, it’s business as usual, so everything’s fine between you two… right?

[inkedinfusions]

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 | eren jaeger halloween special

⊱♱⊰ | A small Halloween party and smudged makeup may seem like what happens every other year, but this one is about to take a turn, one both expected and surprising.

⊱♱⊰ | masterlist of works

𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 '𝟐𝟒

word count: 2.3k

content warnings: fake blood, mentions of alcohol

a/n: I started this today lmao. Anyways, I hope ya'll have a happy halloween if you celebrate it, and if not, I hope the candy that this festivity brings you is sweet and plentiful. Also thanks to my beta reader for reading and revising on such short notice (read: I deadass just texted them the link to my docs and they read it over immediately) Truly the goat <3

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 smudges in the corner of your eye for the umpteenth time that late afternoon.

Historia huffs, reaching for the makeup remover and cotton pads to wipe it off, being extra careful to not erase any of the purple shadow that adorns your eyelids.

“Would it kill you to stop squirming?” she asks when you blink and smudge it again.

You groan, almost hiding your face in your hands before realizing that would only mess up your makeup further. It had taken a grand total of three baby wipes, five brushes and a shit ton of q-tips to make the eyeshadow and glitter look good, and you aren’t about to mess up the other half of Historia’s hard work.

“I’m sorry!” you say. “I can’t help it if my eye twitches— and It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.”

Mikasa snorts from where she lays on her bed, doom scrolling while she waits for you to get ready. The witch hat she’ll be using is sitting on her nightstand, next to some discarded accessories and a pallet of red face paint, responsible for the tracks of painted blood on your face.

Historia sighs, screwing the lid back on the liquid eyeliner bottle. 

“I’m just going to use a pencil,” she says. “It’ll be easier to wipe off and correct later.”

“I told you to do that from the start,” Mikasa chimes in.

You stay still when Historia brings the liner close to your eye, flicking it outwards. The pencil will be easier to smudge, but quicker to clean up, even if it means you’ll spend a great deal of the party in front of a mirror. Or you’ll just give up halfway through and hope that the pseudo smokey eye is excused by your costume.

“Why can’t you do it?” you ask Mikasa when Historia is done, helping her arrange the makeup supplies so that they are less of a pain to clean the next morning.

“I mean,” you continue, “you basically wear this everyday, no?”

Mikasa shrugs, standing up to help tidy up. “I can’t do it to other people though. Only myself.”

Her lips twitch in a mischievous smile before continuing. “Eren is the one who knows how to do that,” she says, grinning slightly like it’s some kind of inside joke. “Maybe you should ask him for help?”

Historia chuckles and you feel your face heat up. “Shut up,” you protest.

“I’m just saying-“

“Shut up.”

“Shutting up.”

Historia’s makeup box closes with a click, and Mikasa's vanity is more or less cleared up. You and your friends had chosen to arrive early to get ready in her room, while the boys are busy raiding nearby convenience stores for snacks and booze.

Halloween is never boring with your friends. Either because of some stupid stunt Connie and Sasha pulled, or dumb gossip you would share late into dusk, your get-togethers are always thoroughly entertaining.

And speaking of the devil.

“Hey guys,” Sasha says through mouthfuls of chips, entering the room. “Done with the costumes?”

A small chorus of Yeahs echoes in the room

“Mikasa is wearing the same emo outfit she always wears so—“ you mutter, ducking and laughing when Mikasa launches a pillow in your direction, ignoring the ‘It’s goth!’ she throws your way.

You take cover behind Annie, who arrives just after Sasha, almost crashing into Historia when she starts to fiddle with the tiny gemstones on her face in the mirror. 

“I think this one’s crooked,” she mumbles, slightly poking at them with her pinky finger.

“Babe,” Ymir says from where you thought she was passed out on a bean bag. “It looks fine. Leave it.” 

“You think so?”

“You could be wearing a trash bag and still be the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Ugh, gay people,” you say teasingly, knowing as well as them that their relationship is actually goals, and no, you weren’t jealous at all of their mutual sappiness. 

“Ugh,” Ymir replies. “Straight people.”

“But I’m not-“

“You like Eren,” she cuts you off. “That’s enough.”

That serves to silence you for the time being, wisely choosing to instead stuff your mouth with the bowl of chips Sasha stole from downstairs.

“And speaking of the devil,” Mikasa says when a car is heard outside.

 “Oh! You think they bought sour gummies?” Sasha asks with stars in her eyes, already rushing downstairs.

“Knowing them they probably bought half the store,” Ymir mutters, reaching for Historia’s hand to follow Sasha.

You make your way downstairs, walking among fake cow webs and hanging ghosts, guided by the lively chatter of your friends. 

Sasha and Connie are already on the couch munching on snacks, chattering excitedly next to Jean, who is browsing scary movies on the Tv, looking for something to have in the background.

Reiner and Bertholdt are busy setting up the drinks, arranging the kitchen table with a wide variety of sodas, booze, and colorful red syrup. You even spy some edible fang gummies, the only snack not already poached by the others.

“Hey,” Eren greets you when he sees you approaching, although it’s partially muffled by the vampire fangs in his mouth.

“Hi,” you smile, matching bloody grins on both your faces. “Those fangs working for you?”

“They are a pain,” he groans. “I swear some of this blood is real, with how many times I’ve cut my own gums.”

“Maybe you should stick to those gummies,” you point to the kitchen table, opening up the bottom cupboard to take out the punch bowl.

Eren, who has already given up on keeping his plastic fangs on, follows you as you move through the kitchen, taking over the punch preparing process from Reiner and Bertholdt, shooing them to the living room.

“Maybe I will.”

He rips the plastic bag open while you pour a sizable amount of cherry juice into the punch bowl, followed by pared orange peels, cinnamon sticks, cloves, ginger and chili. You take the bag from his hands and take some fang gummies to sprinkle into the bowl, mixing the ingredients thoroughly.

“Could you pass me the—“ Eren passes you the vodka wordlessly. “Oh thanks.”

“Course.” 

You prop it up next to the punch for anyone looking for a drink with a kick to it. You had learned from previous hangouts that alcohol in communal punch was not something to mess with, some people’s unreal tolerance (Eren’s and Annie’s) spiking up the median endurance. 

Let’s just say that you don’t remember much from New Years Eve two years ago.

You don’t notice how his eyes linger on you for a moment, how the tips of his ears go red when your fingers graze. And if you do— well— you’ve both played the oblivious game for far too long to do anything about it.

“Hey,” Eren starts, prompting you to look at him. “So I was wondering—“

A loud screech and your friend’s subsequent complaints makes you both jump in place, and a loud robotic voice informs you that the karaoke speaker Historia had brought has been turned on. Loud music follows the voice before the volume shoots down, and the first few notes of a popular song start to play.

You turn to Eren after a beat. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He grins, handing you a red cup he had previously poured. You’ll know he’ll tell you if you push, but like many past occasions you simply return his grin, accept the drink, and walk towards where your friends are gathered.

Your throat feels raspy after the eight consecutive songs you’ve sang, some with Sasha and Connie, one with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, and others where you didn’t have a mic, but were simply belting out the lyrics with everyone else.

Scream plays quietly in the background after an unexpected scream (funny) had scared you and Sasha, prompting you both to bump into each other and make a mess of popcorn on the floor.

Said girl still ate them, so you can’t really say they went to waste. Under five seconds too, so, in her words, the five second rule still applied.

Reiner had somehow been coerced by Jean and Marco into singing a Disney song, and you were sure that the whole block could hear their screeches. You were a giggling mess by the time they sang the last note, tears coming out of your eyes at their impression of what was before a heartfelt anthem.

It is only when you wipe off your tears that you realize your fingers are stained black. Shit, you think, the eyeliner.

You groan, not really wanting to go fix it, but knowing that you probably look like a panda and not at all like the smokey black eye you had envisioned.

“Hey, Mikasa?”

“Yeah?” She turns towards you.

“Can I borrow your liquid liner? I’m going to try and do it myself.”

“Are you sure you won’t poke your eyes out?” Mikasa asks, raising her eyebrows. While you didn’t appreciate her lack of faith in you, it was well founded. You weren’t clumsy by any means, but your hands had the tendency to shake when you needed to do precise work.

You open your mouth to reassure her when a voice coming from your left pipes up.

“I can help,” Eren offers.

“You sure? I wouldn’t want to interrupt your fun or something.”

“It’s fine. Besides, Jean’s voice is kinda making my ears ring now.”

A beat passes, interrupted by Mikasa clearing her throat. “If that’s all then, better hurry. The pizza is getting here soon, and I can’t guarantee you’ll get a piece if you’re not downstairs the moment the doorbell rings.”

“It won’t take long,” you say.

“Sure,” she says, unconvinced.

You and Eren both decide to ignore the implications of her statement, walking upstairs. You start to walk towards Mikasa's bedroom, meaning to retrieve her eyeliner.

“Where are you going?” Eren asks.

“For the liner?”

“I have a different one that it’s easier to put on. Come on, it’s in my room.” He nods towards the door to his bedroom, and you fall into step next to him as you stroll down the hall.

“I forgot you had an emo phase.”

“It wasn’t— whatever.”

You snort at his lack of retort. His so-called ‘emo phase’ wasn’t actually emo, but you liked to tease him about it every once in a while.

You make a quick detour to wipe off the black smudges that were left over, messing up your eyeshadow but not really caring enough to fix it properly. It would do for the night. Besides, unlike with the eyeliner, you could simply blend it in with your fingers.

Eren flicks the lights on and you flop onto his bed while he searches for the forgotten liner, a remnant of his dark and embarrassing past. Well, embarrassing for him at least. You, on the other hand, found it incredibly attractive whenever he put it on. Not that you ever told him.

“Here.” He takes a black bottle after rummaging through his drawers for a while.

Eren takes a seat next to you, and you move onto a similar sitting position, facing him. 

While you couldn’t stop moving around when Historia was helping you out, you are now completely frozen in place, transfixed in his aquamarine eyes.

You feel every breath he takes, every exhale he lets out. Small translucent freckles that remain from summer decorate his cheeks, where startling red is also painted.

His touch is feathery soft, the fingers on your chin doing almost no work to keep your head in place. Still, he doesn’t remove them. 

Eren gently tilts your face as he goes, filling in the gaps in the wing, in your upper lash line, in the inner corner of your eye. 

You realize his mouth is moving after a while, bringing you out of your stupor. 

“I— sorry, what?”

You mourn the loss of his fingers on your chin when he pulls back to screw the lid of the liner back on. Eren chuckles, and it’s not the first time the sound brings butterflies to your stomach.

“I asked if it’s okay like that.”

“Yeah,” you say, still a little out of it. “It’s fine.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t even looked at a mirror—“

“What were you going to say to me in the kitchen?” You interrupt.

His mouth slams shut, and for a second all you can hear is both of your heartbeats drumming in your chests, blood rushing through your veins, warmth beginning to spread throughout. There’s even the bad singing of your friends in the background to top it off.

“It was nothing,” he says.

“No it wasn’t. What were you going to ask?”

You watch as Eren internally debates with himself, weighting the pros and cons interfering with your pull and push game would bring. The pros win, it seems, because he replies, softer than you've ever heard.

He gets closer to you, fingers once again finding their home on your chin. His eyes look for resistance but find none; your pulse looks for his own and finds a rhythm.

“Can I—?”

You don’t let him finish, and it’s really something you have to work on, the way both of you never wrap up your questions. But oh, you don’t find it in yourself to regret it.

He tastes like candy, sweet and sour, the lingering flavor of alcohol adding a small kick to the kiss. Your hands find his way to his costume’s collar, his own to the back of your neck.

It’s soft, gentle, warmed in the slow burn of a confession years in the making. Maybe you did have one regret— the fact that it took this long for you to get here.

You part just as quickly as you came together, the subtle after taste of his Halloween treats lingering in your breath. You smile, and he smiles, and you both start giggling like little kids after a sugar high, intoxicated in the other's presence.

“Hey,” he says, thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth. “Now your lipstick is smudged. Want me to help you with it?”

[septembersghost]

If this is a weird comment you don't have to post it, but listening to E a lot I notice there are a bunch of idk? sounds in his songs that I guess they'd edit out now. you mentioned him laugh in Power of My Love and I hear it EVERY time now, but there's a lot of other stuff too that makes the recordings sound so real.

not a weird comment, i love this actually, and it's true.

i think it's a combination of factors. obviously, no digital editing (and no auto-tuning, which is why his studio vocals and his live vocals are as close to identical as they are. studio recordings are cleaner due to the setting and equipment, but the timbre and tone, the color, the melodic quality, that was truly the man's voice), although engineers could still clean things up in places, and lay in background vocals and further instrumentation etc, it was a bit more involved/arduous as a process and the central recording probably didn't get fiddled with as much. i'm not going to say i'm super well-versed on production of the time, but of course computers and digital mixing, snipping together various takes, etc, today can alter a LOT of what's captured to make it more "flawless." if you listen to any of his rough studio cuts/outtakes, you'll hear him rehearsing, changing up tempos, deciding on different arrangements or following instruction, (messing up lyrics and laughing and being a weirdo lmao i love him), clicking into how to get a song to work.

i also think it has something to do with E's particular technique and delivery, where he breathes is often very deliberate (try singing along and you'll notice how measured and controlled he was at this and the way it emotionally affects his delivery). i mean, as an example that isn't the power of my love laugh™, you can hear him gulp slightly at the beginning of in the ghetto (in the rest after "as the snow flies"), whether that's direct emotion or nerves or just how he was getting the song out. there's a moment in another song where you can hear what i think is the clink of his rings against the microphone. the memphis sessions have a LOT of the raw studio sounds left in. some of this is also that he...did not sit still (affectionate), so some of that fidgeting and rustling and personality is all captured in the recordings. listen to true love travels on a gravel road (my beloved), and there are a bunch of the organic moments right there. especially between the first chorus and the second verse - between "ohhh, true love travels on a gravel road" and "down through the years..." like four different things audibly happen. you can tell when he's playing around and exaggerating some of his vocalizations and quirks and trademarks, leaning into it - which he did in places in the comeback special too, because he knew exactly how to utilize/distill that, and the way it would transfix the audience, he just had command of that to unleash however he chose. (or whatever. he decided. to do. at the end of such a night). it's also why it's really apparent in a song when he smiles, which is one of my favorite things in the world, when you can HEAR a smile in a song. not every artist is easy to detect this with, but he is, and it's so warm.

what i really really love about this with him is it makes the songs so present and lived in and felt, all these unfiltered and natural details still exist in the tracks and so does his personality. then when you listen to the concert recordings, the only significant difference is stuff like banter with the audience or switching up bits of arrangement for the show, but the emotion and the amount of himself he put into everything is as real/accessible/clear in the studio as it is on the stage of the international or anywhere else. it's such a vibrantly alive aspect of his work that i believe it's part of why it's endured the way it has tbh - it still feels like he's right there about to pull that gold curtain back again.

[artficlly]

face the music (chapter 4)

Music College Marvel AU - Chapter 4

!frat!musician!bucky x !frat!musician!steve x !musician!femreader

Warnings: ANGST, mentions choking, swearing, implications of previous abuse, low self esteem reader, mentions of homophobia and general yuckiness

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: i wrote basically this entire chapter last night and then changed my mind and rewrote it this morning lmao. things are gonna start getting interesting now, very excited to get into some more feminine rage later in the story. thanks for all the likes and reblogs! i wasn't expecting anyone to read this so it's nice tysm <3 hope you all are having a wonderful day. not proof read, sorry for any typos!

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

You stand in the doorway nervously, eyes carefully surveying the room. The frat house had been a mess when you arrived, still cluttered with remnants of Saturday's party. You purposely avoided looking at the kitchen, instead eyes trained onto the ground to avoid dripping over any crushed solo cups. Scott had once told you that they didn’t really bother with cleaning up, because by the time they did there would be another rager. The only room that lay pristine, that always had a ‘DO NOT OPEN’ sign on the door during parties, was the spare room upstairs. You had assumed it was so people wouldn’t trash it, or fuck in it. To your complete surprise, it was because they had converted the spare bedroom into a make-shift studio. 

Expensive equipment filled the room - a drum set, electric guitars, bass, a keyboard and several speakers. There were a few second-hand couches in the corner, decorated with old blankets to hide the stains and holes. You had to admit, for a bunch of insane frat boys… it was kind of cozy? 

You had spent all night worrying about this meeting for the assignment. There was a constant battle going on in your mind over how you acted yesterday and why. You could only repeat in your brain that you should’ve been angry, that you should’ve refused their offer. Ever since him, you had to admit you would shut down and agree when things got hard. Maybe even before him. Maybe with your mother as well, constantly picking away at your happiness to make you a mini-copy of her. But that was a whole different ball of yarn to unspool. Your therapist was right in that sense, you would become compliant because it was all you knew, it was the way you were raised. You were just another little girl who was told to keep quiet and please everyone around you. 

You would get angry, you would be upset, yet every time you were the first to back down. Every time you submitted because you didn’t know how to be strong. It was a constant cycle of quiet rage roaring in the back of your mind, which quickly turned into quiet acceptance the more you stewed on it. After yesterday, you should’ve told Bucky, Steve and Sam to fuck off. You should have told them to find a different vocalist. But you were so exhausted and stupid that you had just laid down and bared your throat for them. 

You supposed that the internal battle you were having now meant that you hadn’t gone as far as forgiving them. No. You couldn’t forgive them, not after what happened to Loki. Even if you couldn’t be strong for yourself, you could be strong for Loki. 

Bucky and Steve were fiddling with a speaker across the room, Sam hadn’t arrived yet. On the way up the stairs, Bucky had explained that all of you were going to listen to some music and figure out a style of singing you were most comfortable with. You had two weeks until the assignment was due. Two weeks of dealing with Bucky and Steve. You couldn’t be upset because you had idiotically put yourself in this position. You couldn’t help but stare at them, drinking in their chiseled faces, calloused hair. The way Bucky had rolled up his long sleeves so you could see the bugle of muscle in his forearm - you really needed to snap out of this shit.

“I have some conditions,” You finally speak up. They both look at you like they had forgotten you were there. You had been standing in silence pondering how to address this. You wanted to make it clear that you were still upset, that you hadn’t just forgiven them with their little effort. You were the type to give second chances, and unfortunately third, fourth and fifth chances. Maybe this time you could be different. Only if Steve didn’t give you those sad fucking puppy dog eyes. 

“About…?” Steve asks, trailing off with a confused look. He had given you as little as a fleeting glance since you had arrived. You couldn’t tell if you preferred it or hated it. Stupid hot men and the way they made you feel. You could tell he was as conflicted as you were. Unlike Bucky, he seemed to still have some unspoken thoughts and feelings he hadn’t quite aired out yet. 

“This. This assignment, group, whatever. I just want… your word on some things. Three things to be exact.” You explain, leaning closer to the door frame for support. You could already feel anxiety rising in your chest. You had run over this situation in your mind all night and day, how they react, how to anticipate any weird things they might say. How to act if they laughed in your face. How to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when they smiled at you.

“Shoot,” Bucky says, dragging over the stool from the drum set to take a seat. You swallow down the worry - and the arousal at the sight of him doing that - you could do this. If not for you, for Loki. 

“One, I’m here for the assignment, nothing else. I don’t want to hang out or have you fighting for my forgiveness. I don’t forgive you, at least not right now.” You say, Bucky frowns at that but just nods. You let out a shaky breath, looking to Steve for confirmation. He also nods after some thought, he has that sad look on his face again. Stupid fucking puppy dog eyes. 

“Two,” You start. “Both of you are going to help me get John Walker suspended.” 

There is a pause. Your chest feels tight as you scan their faces, looking for their reactions. 

“What?” Steve asks, hands falling to his sides as if in disbelief. You stare him down, unflinching as possible. You didn’t expect them to respond well to that request. You had been rehearsing what to say all night, tossing and turning in bed. You had repeated the same words over and over again, changing the tone, the structure as you had played your piano earlier that day. 

“Everybody knows that he’s done this before, and that he will do this again. Every time he fucks up, his father just buys his way out of it. He needs help, a therapist or an anger management program.” You explain, pushing off the wall to walk closer to them. You thank yourself for keeping your voice steady, even if your hands shake. Steve tilts his head, looking to Bucky for back up.

“Why? I mean, it’s not your or our responsibility to deal with that asshole anymore? It’s been handed over to the college now.” Steve says, Bucky stays silent as if considering the request. You can hear the piano music you were playing earlier in the back of your head as you decide what to say next. You could visualize the tapping eyes in your head, you needed to keep calm. You had anticipated this. You knew what you needed to say.

“But it is our responsibility.” You say, running a hand through your hair to try and ease your nerves. “If I don’t say something, do something… he’s going to do this again. And again. We’ve already seen the pattern, but everyone ignores it. You ignore it, the school ignores it, his parents ignore it. I can’t be another person to turn the other way, don’t you understand? He’s going to seriously hurt someone, I mean, he already has. I’m not going to turn away and hide, I’m not going to encourage him down this path of destruction. ” You explain.

They are silent again for a time. You know they are missing some of the details about how personal this is to you. You wished that someone had done this for you when you were at your lowest. He had plenty of girlfriends and fights before you had met. You wished someone had done something to stop him back then. Bucky speaks up, breaking your nervous thoughts. 

“You’re right,” He says and relief floods through your system. “We encouraged him, we’ve looked the other way. You’re right. It’s our responsibility as much as it is yours.” Bucky’s eyes look distant as he speaks, it feels like looking into a mirror. 

You breathe out a sigh. Steve chews his bottom lip as he watches you, conflicted. 

“You are right… I just…” Steve sighs, rubbing his chin. “It would suck if you got into trouble, after everything. Like, you have more on the line, with your scholarship and stuff…” He fades off. You find it interesting that Steve’s conflict is with your status, not his. The more you think about it, the more it makes sense. You’re more vulnerable to being shunned by the college than them. They’re rich, they feed money into the school, they’re also more likely to be believed. As much as it fucking hurt, having some men on your side would boost your credibility. You had been through the ‘hysterical woman’ treatment before, it had nearly cost you everything. That fact that Steve was even thinking about you made something blossom in your chest.

“It’ll be fine. I just can't be on campus knowing that I didn’t even try.” You choke out, Bucky hums and nods at you in agreement. The dark look has left his eyes, his focus now turned to Steve beside him. You wonder what they’re thinking, how they’ll react after you leave the house. As much as you thought they were complete assholes, completely unaware of their privilege… they did seem to understand. They had admitted to you that they had fucked up, Steve had defended you in Stark’s office, they had apologized multiple times. There it was again, that guilt, that doubt in yourself, that desire to please them. You had to stay focused, you had to…

“What was the third condition?” Steve asks, you snap your attention towards him. You had to stay focused, no matter how much this might hurt. You could hide away, forgive them and move on. But Loki was still injured, he was still owed something. 

“I want you to apologize to Loki, in person-” You don’t even get to finish the sentence when Bucky cuts you off. 

“No.” His voice is firm.

“No?” You ask, looking between the two of them in disbelief. So much for the progressive streak they had going for a moment. The back and forth in your body between attraction and anger flares up again.

“Why would we apologize to him?” Steve asks, crossing his arms across his chest in a defensive manner, any softness or guilt leaving his face. You feel your jaw muscles clench a bit in annoyance. 

“Because he nearly got beaten to death? Trying to defend me after what you two did?” You say, throwing your hands up in the air. You could feel the roaring in the back of your mind, that wave of frustration and anger. You couldn’t back down. 

“You’re really defending him, after what he did?” Steve sneers at you, his demeanor completely changing as he moves closer to Bucky’s side. You take half a step back, you hated it when this happened. You hated the fear because someone raised a voice at you. Bucky was seemingly the calmer one of the two, though you noted how white his knuckles looked wrapped around his phone. His attention was on Steve, a crease in his brow as he surveyed the blond’s distress. It was the same look Bucky gave you whenever he noticed you flinching or cowering away.  

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between you guys. But I’m sure it doesn’t warrant being beaten to death?” You choke out, you can feel yourself starting to tremble. This was the worst part, lingering between the edge of exploding and backing down. The look Steve was giving you was deadlier than poison, if he were any closer you would’ve backed down. You would’ve cried in fear. You hated this, confrontation, anger, disgust. You were still so weak. 

“What exactly did Loki tell you?” Bucky suddenly speaks up, his voice steady and calm. You notice how his metal hand has moved to pat Steve’s bicep, as if trying to comfort him into calming down. The action is oddly intimate. 

“Nothing? I tried asking, all Jane and Thor said was that you guys were friends for a while and now you’re not?” 

Bucky lets out a loud sigh, looking up at Steve. The two of them share a silent conversation through only looks. It still feels… intimate. You almost consider walking away, like you’ve stepped into some private that you weren’t supposed to witness. You had never seen anything like this between them before, or maybe you just hadn’t been paying close enough attention?

“Steve and I are dating,” Bucky says as you freeze. Dating? Steve and Bucky… Dating. For all this time? You never would’ve guessed, they always acted like friends. They had been friends since they were kids apparently, you had just assumed they had one of those bonds. One that you would never quite understand, but this? Them dating? That added layers to the conversation. It explained the tense looks they would give each other, the silent conversations, the way Bucky could seemingly calm Steve with his touch. As much as you were shocked, it made sense.

“We have a… uh, open relationship, you could say.” Bucky continues awkwardly. You gape at him for a moment before finding your composure. They despised Loki because of some dumb relationship drama? How had you never heard about this before, not even from people like Scott or Sharon?

“You two… you two were hooking up with Loki?” You ask. It was well known that Loki leaned for the guys rather than the girls. Bucky, Steve and Loki? You were surprised. The entire time you had known Loki they had been at eachothers throats, they were repulsed by each other. You couldn’t imagine them getting along, let alone hooking up?

“Yeah. Then shit got messy, I guess,” Bucky replies, rubbing the back of his neck. That felt like an understatement of the year. There is an air of distress between the two of them, something unspoken and traumatizing. It unsettles you, those dark looks they exchange. Something had gone terribly wrong, and you had never noticed.

“How messy?” You ask.

“Well… Loki caught feelings and it wanted it to be more of a… relationship than casual hookups. Steve and I talked about it and said no, we just… weren’t ready for something like that. We were barely out of the closet at that time, no one except Loki and Sam really knew about us…” Bucky fades off. You can feel dread in your stomach. You knew Loki, you knew him a little too well. He didn’t like being rejected, he perceived it as him being discarded. You could imagine how he would react, how he would’ve coped. He would’ve exploded, he would’ve gone around telling everyone how he had been used by some rich fuckboys - oh god.  

“Oh god,” you repeat verbally this time. “He didn’t-” You can’t even finish the sentence, you can’t even imagine the fear, the betrayal. Being outed ruined lives, caused people to harm themselves, caused people to lose everything and everyone they loved. 

“He tried to blackmail us. Said he would tell everyone at the college, everyone online, our parents, literally everyone that we were dating, that we used him. That if we didn’t agree to date him he would ruin us.” You can see Steve lean further into Bucky for comfort as Bucky speaks. Whatever facade there was - that had been put on in front of you - was finally gone. Bonded through trauma, they had to be. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, collapsing onto one of the nearby couches. You didn’t know how to feel, conflicted maybe? You were so angry at them for what they had done, for how they made you feel with their stupid smirks and muscles. Now all you felt was sympathy. How could Loki have done that? Why would he willingly and happily manipulate them, black mail them? Loki of all people would know the struggles of being queer in a world that rejected anything but the norm. Why would he put someone in a position that he, a few years ago, would’ve been terrified to be put into? Who had you been living with for the past couple months?

“So, you really didn’t know?” Steve asks, you look up at him with a frown. 

“No. I… I don’t understand why he would do something like that. If I had known… fuck. I don’t know.” You mutter, rubbing your face with the heel of your palm. They had every right to be mad at Loki, maybe not as far as to get him beaten to death but… You had always sided with Loki. You had never thought to question his hatred. Did that make you a bad person? 

“We thought you knew,” Steve explains, while Bucky rubs his back comfortingly. “That’s part of why we sent Walker over - fuck. You and Loki were always so buddy-buddy, we thought you supported what he did and were trying to mess with us-”

“No! Oh my god,” You cut in with a groan. “This is all so fucked up.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky agrees with a sigh, tilting his head to rest it on Steve. 

“I don’t know who I should be more mad at… you guys or Loki.” You admit with a sigh, resting your elbows on your knees, your chin on your fists. Yeah, Bucky and Steve had fucked up but they had apologized. They had tried to make up for it, and were continuing to try. Had Loki even tried to say sorry? If anything, it seemed like he was trying to protect his reputation but purposely not telling you. Thor and Jane must’ve known too… oh god, how many people knew and were keeping you out of the loop? 

“What about Walker? He was the one who literally choked you!” Steve protests, you roll your eyes at him. The anger you felt for John was nowhere near a countable scale. 

“What happened with Loki? In the end? Did he back off, did he say something…?” You trail off. 

“He backed off, I think Thor told him to grow up or something. Unsure, he just stopped threatening us and blocked our numbers. He would come to parties and just send us death glares but nothing more.” Bucky replies with a shrug. The way he says it so casually breaks something inside of you. Is that why Natasha hated you so much? Because she thought you were some kind of homophobe in unknowingly supporting Loki?

“When did this happen?” You ask.

“Before you moved in with him, Thor and Jane. Start of semester one last year.” Bucky replies. It makes sense, Steve and Bucky would’ve been fresh into college, freshly exploring their relationship and their sex lives. You didn’t move in with Loki until the start of the first semester this year. You chew on the inside of your cheek. You would need to speak with Loki, you would need to set some things straight. As much as you were annoyed with Bucky and Steve, you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for them. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” You admit, looking over at the two men. You visibly watch them melt at your gaze, a gentle smile forming over Steve’s face. You hate that, you hate the effect it has over you. Although, you can’t help but wonder if it is worse to feel that way now, knowing that they were in a stable relationship (even if it was open). Maybe they were bisexual? God, you really didn’t need to have that conversation with them or yourself. 

“Does that mean you forgive us?” Steve asks, hopefully. You groan and roll your eyes, slumping back into the couch. As much as you wanted to say yes, as much as you wanted to put this all behind you and move on you couldn’t. This was you trying.

“No. Help me deal with Walker and then maybe I will.” You say, biting back a smile when you catch their expressions. 

“Sounds like a deal. Fuck that guy.” Bucky chuckles, Steve pats his back with his own chuckle. Looking at them now it all makes sense that they would be together, you wonder how you didn’t notice it before. You wonder how many people actually know about them, or if they didn’t know, had observed their closeness. You felt like an idiot. 

“Hey guys. Did I miss anything?” Sam asks from the door, looking freshly showered. You had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be in your group as well. 

“Nope. We were just about to get started,” Bucky replies, turning on the speaker.

Chapter 5

[hermannco]

I loved the designs you did for cane and able in codotverse, reminds me of wendell and wild from the new stop motion movie!

what inspos went behind your designs if you are okay with telling

I've had those designs stashed for years

if anything Wendell and Wild GOT INSPIRED BY ME!!!! /j

Lmao thank you

I'm about to info dump and dont take anything I say as Canon, this is me hyperfxating and having LITERALLY too much information in my brain about to random ass motherfuckers.

Okay so, fun things. About Inspo.

ABOUT CAIN: Normal Cain. Soft, grandpa man.

2008 Cain. (From a HoM comic I am not too fond of except...)

Fucking sharp lunatic with his hair going EVERYWHERE. Constantly UNHINGED.

And so I decided to strike right on the middle bcs I always enjoyed the idea of this motherfucker flipping like a switch, also because he is an older brother, and he cleans the house and does the crops and tells stories and helps with the animals and maintains the house, and is fuzzy and very classic focused. But you know, he will also murder Abel in a split second and he gets a JOY doing it. Most of the time. But also enough to live with him normally and still have dinners and get mad when someone else hurts him.

His front hair flop also comes from the fact that he has to hide the "MARK OF CAIN" TM. The one that hits you 7 times worse if you hurt him. He has no control of what that shit does tho.

Also fun fact, the houses are located in Kentucky (Unless they are teleporting) and stuck in the 70s aesthetically LMAO.

So I sharpened the old man, still gave him kind eyes. I unbrokened his nose, because is impossible to break it without you dying, so this man is SURPRISINGLY DELICATE when it comes to fights.

A well groomed beard that can be easily messed up. And big CAINines.

The clothes are just classic Cain clothes but pushin a little bit more of the military ww1 aesthetic he is placed with.

The long and short, Grandpa please go to bed.

ABOUT ABEL:

Younger frisky freer brother.

A lot of Abel is based of Harveydont's Abel work. In all honestly we both worked on these bozos over the years.

Regardless here is the explanation for his look at least on my end.

He has always been a fancy little lad, a lot more pristine than his brother. A lot of the thought behind Abel is how he does a lot less of heavy work such as gardening or house renovating, but does things such as cooking and sweeping and organizing. Which is why he can always afford to be dressed to the nines.

Always seems to dress BETTER and be well more mannered. But while nicer he is also a trickster. So He can't be a circle.

Anyway, this picture also has done its millage.

This is the ORIGINAL sketch for Abel by Joe Orlando. I think my man nailed it first try. There has been A LOT of Cains over the years, but Abel always... ALWAYS relatively looks like this. And I have NO ROOM to complain.

As you can visibly see he hasn't changed much... I just put a knife to him and sharpened his features, as well give him bigger eyes than Cain bcs 1) makes him also look unhinged 2) Can also look more innocent.

Also his mutton chops are cleaner, in general his look is more put together and softer. He is supposed to be PRISTINE. The ring on his hand is because CANNONICALLY, Abel wears the gayest shit in the comics and I something he could fiddle with when nervous. (Mesh shirt while cooking, you know, gay club look just while cooking, iconic. Speak your truth, king.)

Also I made their skin darker bcs I am tan to darker color and I Was like, lol I can't be stopped now!

I hope this helps.

[arthur-side]

OC lore kinda but it's an AU lmao

I noticed that my full attention was at SBG so I decided "Hey why not break it up with some random storyline?

(Cyanide belongs to @freakylolz, Catacore belongs to my friend, Arthur is...Y'know.)

“..Who’s there?” The guy with a missing eye—Catacore, asked, looking around. His eye noticed a peculiar figure casually sitting on one of the supply boxes that they were supposed to transport to the vans a moment ago. His face dimmed but his smile kept.

“Ah, you.” The girl with a box covering half her face—Cyanide, said. It was like a scoff. The figure laughed.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like some help from me though~?” The figure played, wings behind her ear shooting up creating a halo-like appearance. Eyes opened in between those random counting of feathers.

They were obscured by half of the shadow, yellow eyes glowing as they gave the two a mischievous smile. “Lovely to meet you two again, ha.” The two just stared at them unamused.

“What do you want?” Catacore asked, a brow raised. The figure smirked.

“Oh, you know, a deal.” They responded, fiddling with their purple-seemingly mixed with stars-hair. Cyanide crossed her arms.

“...And why so?” Cyanide tilted her head up and down the figure, foot tapping on the grey concrete.

The figure threw her hair out as she dramatically fell down the box, hands brushing them. “Oh, but dear creatures, it’s just that we really are in need of your help!”

“You see, during that last mission the two of you were on, the universe ripped itself open and started stitching itself with an alternate universe close to ours using 4-dimensional shapes as its thread! And even worse—That alternate universe has the same people from here, only of different roles!”

Silence followed after.

Catacore slowly turned to Cyanide with his ‘we’re fucked’ smile. Tilting his head.

“...I think we know the cause of this.”

Oh, it was their dear friend who was specifically acting weird these past few days, Arthur.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?”

Catacore pulled out a giant sword from his pocket.

“Dunno at this point, but guess we’re-”

“You accept the deal?” The two turned to the figure again.

“No.”

“No.”

“Great! Now…To help your friend in exchange for cleaning up this multi-dimensional mess?” Catacore nodded.

They promised not to make any deal with this bitch, but for the sake of that damn idiot…

[whatstheoccasion]

YOUVE GIVEN ME THE GO AHEAD FOR LAWS EARRINGS NOW i am sorry (not really) but consider this: law's daughter who wants to get her ears pierced as soon as she hits her teenage years bc she's been so 😵‍💫😵‍💫 over her dad's piercings since forever! law's lowk a very Dramatic parent in my opinion who would secretly never want his kid to feel an inch of pain (he is Protective) and tries to dissuade her from getting them done but she gets the same piercings anyways! after recovering from the initial shock (how could she, why did you let her etc etc.) he actually loves them bc theyre matching!!!!1!1 ++ i can imagine the daughter as a toddler fiddling with his earrings bc theyre Shiny and Gold (and she has her priorities straight at shiny and gold things) whenever she wants like he could be giving bepo death threats while she just crawls into his lap and begins tugging at them and the polar bears just laughing his goddamn ass off bc how can he take law seriously when he's this close to yelping like a toddler himself

((also u are VERY right abt the astrology stuff how 😭😭 and whys an aries moon scary .... i watched dressrosa ages ago ive forgotten n i need to catch up to wano though ive been spoiled with almost everything of note LMAO )) -- 😹

kitten anon my beloved I'M DEVASTATED 💔 THIS IS SO CUTE I DON'T EVEN WANT TO ADD MORE TO THIS!!

but i will. lmao

listen. law would throw a FIT over his daughter getting piercings. before actually being a dad, he thought he would be chill about most things, he's a goddamned pirate captain after all, and he knows most things don't need to be made such a big deal out of. he thought he'll be a cool dad who just shrugs over things like tattoos and piercings, but. BUT.

this is his daughter he's talking about!! his baby!! a chubby little thing who loved to chew on his clothes and babble out the word 'papa' and snatch his earrings just yesterday!! what do you mean he's not in control of her actions anymore? surely this means he won't be able to protect her?

he's a drama king but please understand he just doesn't want his family hurt– even by a tiny disinfected needle. he's brooding in the outside, face in a pout and dark aura coming out of him, hands on his sword while he scowls at his crew, "who the hell let this happen?", like they're at fault for not watching over her, his daughter uselessly trying to calm him down.

once he gets over it, though, his chest feels warmth all over. he was always so scared of fucking up his kid, turning them into an irreparable mess, but. his daughter loves him enough to go through a little bit of pain just to match with him, and it's that thought that makes him smile before bed at night, your knowing eyes twinkling with victory because you know he's not upset anymore.

he'll never tell her how much he appreciates it, because he doesn't want to condone to her doing things he considers dangerous without his approval, but the next day he'll bring her medicine for her to take care of them and tell her that they look, *cough*, *scowl*, "good."

it's honestly his fault to begin with, because as a child he used to buy her every cute thing that caught his eyes. strawberry earrings, bobby pins with polar bear stickers, fluffy pink hair ties. he also dedicated a certain amount of his free time to customize her clothes so the three of you would subtly match– he spoiled her in his own ways. so, give him a few more days and she'll see in her room new earrings, ones made costumed by law. if someone compliments her in public abt her new piercings and she points at law saying, "thanks, it's a matching set with my dad!!" he'll feel so warm, they might just catch him smiling before he calls her out for talking to strangers 💀

he'll have a talk with her to tell her that if she ever wants to do more piercings, that she should come to him. he knows his stuff and he cleans anything he uses. with him, she won't get sick or infected, and since it's seemingly impossible to control her, might as well get it done by someone who knows what they're doing. "next time just come to me for these things," he says, face as serious as ever. she squeaks and thanks him, hugging his stiff form, "even tattoos?!" she beams. law grimaces, "don’t push it."

[schmuckyschmarnes]

build me a bed | s.b. x reader

summary: you’re moving into a new apartment and worried that your best friend is less than happy about it when he leaves suddenly word count: 2965 words warnings: honestly there’s not much to look out for here, it’s pretty fluffy, there’s a small amount of angst but it doesn’t get smutty.   maybe warning for language?  

a/n: hey everyone!  i’m back on my sirius black bullshit and i’ve been overthinking how to start writing again so i decided to just shut up and write something lmao, enjoy this plotless excuse for a fluff piece, it’s not explicitly romantic, just some tender moments between two idiots who are ultimately best friends. 

The weather outside was dismal. Rain pelted against the windows and the sound had been so relentless that it was beginning to dull, as if someone had turned volume all the way down.

You lay on the floor of your apartment, half on top of and half under an array of flattened cardboard boxes, bubble wrap, and packing peanuts. You'd spent the entire day moving your belongings into your new apartment with the help of your friends who wouldn't be letting you forget their generosity any time soon. James was particularly adamant that you would be repaying the favour. Remus opted to exaggerate his chronic pain with dramatic groans and did a terrible job of hiding the smirk on his face when you looked at him guiltily. And Sirius, well, he'd helped the boys with the heavy lifting, fiddled with your washing machine, then dryer, mumbling about test runs, and then left early - which if you were being totally honest, upset you just a little bit, but you weren't going to think about it. If he wanted to be a big baby about your move, that was on him.

The vibration of your phone is particularly aggressive against the cardboard you’d tossed it onto. You reach for it blindly, fingers spread, hoping to catch the edge. After some fumbling you managed to pinch and raise it to eye level. A second later, you were staring at a pair of wide green eyes.

"Hey Lily." You were going for casual, and instead landed somewhere in the neighbourhood of grumpy and pained.

"Well hello to you, too," she laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "James just got home, I wanted to see how you're feeling about the new place!"

"Mnerrergh," was your response, throwing your free arm over your face.

"That good, huh?" There was something about Lily, the way that her voice dropped with concern, the way her eyebrow raised immediately, the way she pulled her lip between her teeth that made your heart clench. She was going to be such a good mother. "You think you might feel a little better if you weren't on the floor?"

"I'm okay, love," you soothe. "Just whiny. Of all the days for me to move it had to be in this weather, with the least helpful removalist in the world, and even with the boys' help, bless them, I've still got crap to put together. The place is great and I promise I will properly appreciate it when this-" you move your phone to show Lily the mess you were lying in, and the stacks of boxes around the room "-is all cleaned up.  And maybe when I have a bed again."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there to help," Lily begins. You cut her off swiftly.

"Listen, Missy. You are growing a literal child inside of you. You get a free pass from now until, oh I don't know, eternity, maybe." This gets a laugh out of Lily who shifts so that her free arm rests on her belly.

"I appreciate the free pass and I’ll try not to abuse it too much. I love you, I'll check in with you again soon, okay?"

"Okay, Lils, love you, too."

You end the call and a second later your phone is vibrating again. You put it to your ear without looking.

"Lily, I promise you I'm fine-"

"Let me up, love," you hear. Oh. Not Lily.

"Sirius?"

"It's fucking cold and I am holding a very large box, please buzz me up so that I don't freeze to death." His voice crackles through the phone, and even now, you hear the pouring of rain.

"Okay shit, just one sec- ow, just hold on-" you scramble to your intercom and press the small button with your thumb, listening for the buzz. You hear the door open and the phone hangs up.

"Fucking rude," you mutter. A second later there’s a knock on your door. You open it to find a soaked Sirius, escaped tendrils of hair plastered against his face, his leather jacket dripping with rain, holding up a very large box indeed.

"Sirius, what on earth-” You step aside so that he can come in. Your previous annoyance is replaced with a cocktail of shock and confusion and the steady spreading warmth in your chest at the very small fact that your best friend came back.

“Hey,” he’s panting and shivering and he smells like rain and coffee and cigarettes when he leans in to kiss your cheek.

He drags the box with him as he comes inside and you help, bringing it along at the rear. It's ridiculously long and he's halfway inside your apartment before he lays the box down and he's back at the door, pointlessly toeing off his wet boots so as to not make a mess.

"Take these off, you'll catch your death," you say, fussing about him as you slide off his jacket and peel the wet t shirt off his skin before making your way over to the stack of boxes.

"I'm not here five minutes and you're already trying to get me naked," he teases, and you catch a hint of his smirk and raised eyebrow before the hoodie you throw at him aggressively wipes the cheeky look off his face. "Hey!"

"Poor baby having to put some clothes on," you pout, and if he hears the sarcasm, and you're sure that it's unmissable, he doesn't let on.

"Thank you, that is the appropriate sympathy this situation calls for," he replies, solemnly. You walk over with a towel and he ducks as you move to smack him upside the head, laughing. All the annoyance leaves you when you hear that laugh, it’s always been a weakness for you.

"C'mere," you say, sitting on the floor with your back against the counter. You spread your legs so he can sit between them and he does, leaning against you. You rest your chin on his shoulder while you squeeze the water from his hair with the towel. After a few minutes of quiet, you ask: "What's in the box?"

Sirius forgets that you're holding his hair and turns quickly to face you, swearing when it pulls. You drop the towel with an apology and he rubs at his scalp, scowling.

"I brought your bed," he says, getting to his feet.

"My bed?" you ask, confused. "But they said-"

"They said they couldn't deliver it in time, I know, and the removalist refused to drive out of his way to pick it up, I know. So I borrowed Frank's van and picked it up myself," he says, not looking up as he moves around the box, tearing the cardboard open.

"But Sirius, the nearest store is 2 hours from here, do you mean that you-"

"Drove two hours to pick it up for you and then drove two hours back only to get caught outside your apartment in the pouring rain because I don't have a key anymore? Yeah, pretty much, love."

Your eyes pricked with tears as you watched him remove the wooden planks from the box. He dropped them with a clatter when he looked up and noticed your expression, striding over to you.

"Hey," he murmured, cupping your face in his hands. You tried to turn away from him but he tilted your face back towards him, gently. "Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I thought-" you swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head a little.

"You thought, what?" he prompted, eyes searching yours. "You thought you were going to have to sleep on the couch tonight?" he tried, and smiled when you choked out a laugh. "Tell me, love."

"I thought...I thought you were upset with me for moving. The guys stayed to help, and you left, and I know I'm further away now and I-" you stop, feeling ridiculous and trying to look anywhere but at his grey eyes.

"I told James that- Did James not tell you I'd be back?" he asks, letting go of your face and stroking your arms up and down.

"James?" you ask, just as confused.

Understanding washed over Sirius's face, and like a mirror, yours too. James forgot.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, stroking your hair.

"You thought I was upset with you for moving away and just pretending to be okay with it?" he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nod, unable to speak, the tears that you'd held back all day spilled onto your cheeks.

"Hey," Sirius soothes, rubbing your back as you cry. He holds you away from him to look at you, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. "I love you, angel."

"I love you, too," you sniff, leaning into his embrace, eyes fluttering shut when he brushed his lips over your forehead.

He continued in the same soft, soothing voice. "You're such a fucking idiot sometimes, you know that? So, so stupid."

He resists your attempts to break free of his embrace, trapping your arms to the side when they reached out to smack him. He readjusts, wrapping himself around you, resting his head on top of yours, shushing your squawks of indignation.

"You thought that after ten years of you being my best friend, I was going to fuck off because you moved thirty minutes away?" His fingers tickle your side and you squirm against him, laughing.

"Yes, I did!"

"Had vivid daydreams of lonely dinners for one and no one to watch your shitty shows with, did you?" he continued, expertly dodging your smacks and somehow keeping you against his laughing body.

"You're so fucking mean, Black, oh my God-" you begin. He interrupts you, still laughing.

"Did you- did you imagine I'd go out and get myself a new best friend?" he asks, cackling as you manage to push yourself off of him, unable to keep your own smile off your face.

"I did, in fact. I imagined her name would be Wendy," you reply, your voice snippy as you bend down to lift the parts Sirius had removed from the packaging earlier, and walking over to the bedroom.

"Wendy," Sirius sighs, dreamily. "Is she attractive, at least?"

"Tits aren't huge, but a great arse," you call over your shoulder.

"I've always been more of an arse man, I think, there's just so much more to do with a nice arse, don't you think?" he says, following you into the room with the rest of the parts.

"I stopped listening at 'I've always been more of an arse' you say, arranging the screws you'll need into piles on the floor. "If that's the sentiment you were going for, I couldn't agree more."

Sirius barks out a laugh and it cracks your heart in two. You look up to see him pushing his hair out of his eyes as he reads the instruction manual. You bum shuffle your way across the room to him, before pushing yourself onto your knees to reach behind his head and remove his hair tie. You settle in front of him, ignoring the fact that your chest in his face as you brush his hair back with your fingers, tying it into a little bun at the nape of his neck.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he says, bringing a hand to your face, his thumb stroking your jaw.

You turn your head to kiss the palm of his hand, nuzzling against it.

"You're very welcome. Now build me a bed, I beg of you,” you cry, pulling on the strings of his hoodie. He laughs again, pushing you away gently, and you both get to work.

Sirius puts on a playlist and it's a wonder that you both get anything done between the singing and dramatic dancing, but 30 minutes later, you have a bedframe and no extra screws lying around to make you nervous.

"I wish I could crawl in right now," you whisper, as you lie down on the floor for the second time today, this time, not alone.

Sirius sits up and pulls your reluctant arms with him.

"Go shower," he says, pushing you in the direction of the bathroom. "I'll fix this up."

The shower is magical, you're sure of it. When you step in you're aching, and tired, and shaking off the remnants of the shitty feelings the day had brought with it. A considerable amount of time later, skin scrubbed, hair washed, and teeth brushed, you feel born again. Clean, and fresh and peaceful. You move to step out of the shower and then halt.

"Sirius?" you call from the bathroom, and the smallest part of you is afraid there'll be no answer.

"Yeah?" he calls back. You exhale, smiling.

"I forgot to bring a towel in," you yell, stepping out of the shower. The puddle around you begins to form almost instantly.

"That's so crazy, in the time you were gone, all the towels in the world just set on fire, it's all over the news-"

"-Sirius!" You're laughing as the door opens and he throws a towel in before walking away again.

When you make your way back to the bedroom, wrapped in your fresh towel, you see that Sirius has unpacked your new mattress and pillows from the plastic packaging they had been in, and made your bed with your favourite sheets.  All the cardboard and plastic and styrofoam is gone from your room, and it looks, for the first time, like a bedroom.

You flop down and inhale deeply as he walks into the room.

"You fixed my bed," you smile.

"I fixed your bed," he repeats, pulling off the hoodie you had given to him earlier.

"Come lie down," you say, patting the bed. "It smells so good, did you wash these? When did you get time to wash them?"

Sirius laughs, shucking off his pants next.

"I'm going to go shower before I get into your nice, clean bed," he says, standing in a pair of boxers. "And I washed them earlier today when the guys were here, remember? Had to test the washer and dryer, and I knew I was picking up the bed."

He had.

"You're the best," you whisper, closing your eyes for a second. "Go shower."

You wait until he's gone to haul yourself up and get changed into some pyjamas you'd packed into your wardrobe earlier, pulling out a pair of shorts you'd stolen from him years ago and throwing them on the bed before you climb back in.

He's gone for less than ten minutes before you hear his feet padding towards your room, towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets run down his shoulders as he spots the shorts and drops his towel to put them on, facing away from you, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before.

"Nice arse," you say, as he climbs into the bed.

"Ah, this old thing?" he replies, and it sends you into a fit of giggles.

"C'mere," he says, holding his arms out to you, and you do a ridiculously sideways wriggle to get to him. He huffs out a laugh as he wraps himself around you, tucking your head under his chin, and you get a whiff of peppermint.

"You use my toothbrush?" you ask, except the word 'toothbrush' is swallowed in a yawn.

"Mm, get you another one tomorrow," he replies, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

"Don't mind," you murmur.

A comfortable silence and then -

"You could move to the moon, you know," he says, gathering you closer to him.

"Hm?"

"You were worried I'd leave you. Stop being friends with you. Like you're not part of me, like - you could move to the fucking moon and I'd be right behind you," he says, voice a little gruffer than usual.

You untuck your head from under his chin to breathe him in at the junction of his shoulder and neck, soapy clean. You kiss him there, once, twice, and tuck yourself back against him, his hands resuming their circles on your back.

"Was stupid to be scared," you say softly. "You've always been there, I know. Just never want to lose you. Miss you already."

"I'm right here. Not going anywhere, promise," he replies, squeezing you for emphasis.

"Love you so much," you whisper, eyes fluttering closed in the comfort of his embrace.

"I love you too, angel," he says. "I like this bed, by the way," he adds after some silence.

"You do?" you ask, tangling your legs with his as you make yourself more comfortable.

"Yeah, for sure," he says. "I like that there's enough space for both of us to stretch out. It might get a little cramped with Wendy, but I think we can make it work, depending- ow!” he’s laughing as you try to kick yourself away from him.  “Depending on how truthful you've been about that arse of hers,” he finishes between actual honest to God cackles.

"You're a sad excuse for a friend, you know that?" you grumble.  His arms hold you against him for the second time today and he shushes you while you fight to get free of him.

"Settle down.  You love me," he murmurs, once his laughter has died down.

"Yeah?" you challenge.  It’s halfhearted at best and you both know it.  He kisses your temple.

"Yeah," he replies, unbothered by your stubbornness. You let yourself relax back against him, face buried in the crook of his neck once more.

It comes after minutes of silence, your chests both rising and falling evenly, your voice is soft and tired, but he hears it anyway, the admission hidden in your sigh, and he smiles.

"Yeah."

[vinetae]

Try (M) - Chapter 9: Part 2

Pairings: Taehyung x reader, Jimin x reader, Jungkook x reader, Taehyung x Jungkook

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: N-none..? That's never happened before-

A/n: It's 3am and my computer is about to die. Woo-hoo! lmao

<- Previous Chapter

_____________________________________________________________

The movie had long faded out. Jungkook had shifted to lay down on his side, falling asleep on the couch. Jimin had followed his lead soon after.

huh, that’s the first..

You chuckle to yourself. You’re about to get up when a hand is placed on top of yours. You glance down to see Taehyung’s half-sleepy eyes blink slowly at you. He is now in a tousled mess, face shimmering with a slight sheet of oil. Probably from all the greasy foods you all just consumed. 

“Can we talk?” He asks. You nod, helping him remove Jungkook from his side, while making your way into the single bedroom. He quietly shuts the door behind himself, making sure the click of the handle is barely audible.Once he finishes, you lower yourself to the comforter, resting neatly atop the clean sheets. He joins soon after. Then, silence filled the area once more before he spoke up.

“What’d Jimin say?” 

You glance around the room, not wanting to look in his chocolatey eyes that you melt for each time you meet his gaze. 

“Just..stuff.” You nonchalantly say, while fiddling with the hem of your tee-shirt. Well, the T-shirt Jungkook had let you wear of his. 

“Just *stuff* isn’t about me, is it?” You finally give in, locking eyes with his puppy-like expression. You sigh, wondering if you should tell him the truth. Well, if Jimin hadn’t wanted you to share it, he wouldn’t have told you, right? But.. on the other hand, what if he never wants Taehyung or Jungkook to know, and he’s trusting you with his most kept secret that could break this whole friendship!

“Y/n..?” You shake your head slightly, ridding yourself from falling into yet another tunnel. He chuckles at your cuteness, pinching your cheek softly.

“We should really call you Alice. You love going into rabbit holes, huh?” He laughs quietly, as you pout at his words. 

“Do not!” He quiets down to a few soft chuckles as he caresses your cheek with the cup of his palm. 

“You’re too cute, petal.” A shy smile threatens to appear on your face at his praiseful words. 

“But.. I want to know what he told you.” Great. Back to that conversation again..

‘Well,” You start, not knowing really of how much you’re supposed to be letting him in on. 

Eh, fuck it. 

“WhenJiminandyoufirstmethehadareallybigcrushonyoubutthenfoundoutyouweredatingjungkooksoheleftyoualoneandalsohe’sbi” You finally catch your breath, watching as the smile fades from his expressions. 

“He..what?” 

You chuckle nervously. “Yeah..”

‘His eyebrows knit in confusion. “Well the bisexual part I get but.. He had a crush on me?” You nod. 

“Remember when we were all in the bathroom and he was-” You clear your throat, trying to think of a different phrase to use. 

“When he was..butt..fucking you-” He bursts out laughing.

“Butt fucking me?? OH MY GOD!” He bends over, holding his stomach as tears start to threaten to escape. 

“Shut up! I didn’t wanna say dicking you down!” That only seems to make him laugh even harder. You cross your arms, waiting until he finally shuts up to continue. 

“Okay okay.. You could’ve just said fucking me though. No need for-” giggle  “butt fucking.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity. “Can you focus please!? This is really important!” He nods, settling back down in his seat while wiping the last bit of tears from his ducts. 

“So whenever he was fucking you… he said that he’d been dreaming of fucking you..” Taehyung’s eyes widened, a confused look plastered across his face. 

‘I mean I don’t really remember his saying that but..I guess he did. I was- a little buddy if you know what I mean..Wink wink, Wonk wonk.” He chuckles, winking and nudging your left shoulder. 

“Can you please take this seriously? This is your best friend forever confessing to you!” He suddenly stops. 

“But he didn’t confess to me. You just did.”

Oh shit. He’s right- Maybe Jimin did just tell me all of that to be kept as a secret!-

“One raw-dogging session wasn’t enough for you two?” A voice suddenly presents itself. There stood Jimin at the door, a blanket wrapped around his lean figure while sleep threatened to take over completely. 

“We’re just talking, dude. Chill.” Taehyung states, while moving over so he can lay down in his bed.

“The last time you said that Taehyung is when you were mid-fucking Jungkook and I asked what kind of noodles you guys had wanted for lunch.” You chuckle at the little story, as a big yawn consumes Jimin’s state. He carefully crawls in, motioning you over to sleep next to his side. 

“And for today Taehyung, you sleep on the couch. In the morning,” He yawns once more, looking like a cute little kid that stayed up way past his bedtime. 

“You and Y/n are going to go stock up in the morning after pills until her regular prescription is back in stock.” You crawl over to Jimin’s left side, curling up next to his sleepy figure. 

“Well where’s Kookie going to sleep?” Taehyung asks, sadness pokes at his heart when you leave his side to be next to Jimin instead. 

“With you. He already fell asleep in there and I’m too lazy to move him. Turn the light out when you leave, will you?” Taehyung sighs, as he starts to tread his way to the door. He stands in the door holding it halfway close. 

“Goodnight.” You wave him bye as he fully shuts the door. As soon as the handle clicks, Jimin’s curling up to your side, digging his face into the flesh of your neck. 

“Did I give you permission to tell him that?”

_________________________________________________________

Next Chapter ->

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©sweethearthigh 2022. Do not copy, translate, or modify my works with given consent from me.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Relax | Dream

Requested? bro no we've been through this LMAO

Warnings? Absolutely not

Summary: After a long day at work you end up relaxing in Dream's arms while watching Sapnap during his stream.

Word Count: 1,094

You had a long day at work, coming home was all you had been looking forward to. Nothing was better than coming home to your boyfriend and best friend every single day. Especially after long and hard days where all you wanted was to either vent or relax with the two.

Normally you’d come home, greet your boyfriend, Clay, more famously known as Dream, and head straight for your bedroom to take a shower and change. Afterward, you most likely made some food, discussing your day as you ate together, and Sapnap would most likely join you two after a while.

Today, however, when you walked through the door the house was strangely silent. You knew both the boys were home but knowing them they were probably streaming separately or working. So you left them alone, knowing you’d see them eventually.

You headed straight for your shared bedroom with Dream, grabbing clothes and heading for the bathroom. You take a quick shower, changing into a pair of sweatpants and one of Dream’s t-shirts before padding back out into the kitchen.

You decide on making something quick, not wanting to deal with the hassle. Dinner consists of you relaxing and checking your notifications while taking time to eat, your mind wandering to where your boyfriend is every once in a while.

As you clean up, you hear a noise from Sap’s room catching your attention. Your head snaps over to the room, curiosity peaking. You finish cleaning up and decide to pop into his room.

You head over to his door, knocking lightly, and when you don’t hear anything you push it open. You pop your head in, looking around to see Sap at his computer.

You can tell he was in the middle of a sentence, his mouth parted barely as he turns to look at you. Your eyes cast around the room, spotting an open Minecraft game and hearing the sounds of a stream playing.

They then trail down to your boyfriend, sitting on the floor behind Sap. His hands land behind him, head tilted back to see who’s standing at the door. Your smile starts instinctively, the sight of your boyfriend warming your heart.

“I’m sorry I’ll just-“ you begin but Dream interrupts you.

“No,” he whines, dragging out the “o”.

He sits up, reaching towards you making you giggle. Your eyes trail towards Sap and his stream where he shrugs his shoulders with ease.

“Come join,” he offers and you smile.

You make your way into the room, Dream instantly catching your hand and pressing a kiss to it before pulling you down towards him. You retaliate slightly, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips before finally taking a seat.

You drop down in front of Dream, your back pressed against his chest as he circles an arm around your shoulders, just wanting to be near you.

“What are you doing Sap?” you ask.

“Mostly just messing around,” he admits and you nod in thought.

“He keeps dying though,” Dream comments and you giggle as the younger boy groans in annoyance.

“Yeah, cause I’m too busy talking to you.”

By this point, your giggling has turned to a light laugh and from your point of view, you can see Sap’s chat blowing up.

“Jesus Sap answer your chat what the fuck,” you joke, and Sap rolls his eyes.

Just as he glances away to read chat, he ends up dying again making you burst into giggles all over again.

“Guys that’s (y/n) she decided to join us,” he explains, annoyance lacing his tone due to having to respawn again.

By this point, Dream has moved his arm, favoring to run his hands slowly up and down your shoulders and arms. His fingers get caught on the fabric of his t-shirt you’re wearing and fiddles with the hem of the sleeve before moving on. You sink into his touch, leaning even farther back if that’s possible at this point.

His chat continues to blow up as he starts up his journey through the game again, realizing both you and Dream were in the room.

“Sap, zombie,” you offer lazily after Sap ends up dead again from a zombie and you can’t help the giggle that escapes from the annoyed boy’s reaction.

“Very helpful thank you,” he retorts and you’re trying not to laugh loudly.

You go to say something else when Dream ends up distracting you. His hands have traveled from your arms to your hair, twirling the ends at first before reaching up to slowly card his hands through your hair.

You can tell he’s focused behind you, splitting your hair into 3 sections and carefully moving your hair around. He works slowly, messing with the strands and you’re practically putty in his hands as he works.

He starts and stops repeatedly, flipping the strands over and trying to get the best-looking braid possible. He constantly moves, his hands feeling like heaven as they do so and you’re slowly starting to fall asleep. The long day of work wearing on you even though you didn’t want to give in, trying to stay up and talk to your favorite people.

Dream eventually gives up with your hair, making sure it’s smooth and parted before leaving it alone. He presses a kiss to the back of your head before he trails his hands down once more until they’re met with yours. He reaches around you, his hands connecting with yours until they fiddle with yours.

The movements become so slow and mesmerizing you’re so quiet Sap suddenly notices that something is up. You hadn’t joked about how he had died (twice) and was moving at such a slow pace he’d never finish building.

He pouts before turning back to the stream, telling them he has to go before abruptly ending it. Sap then turns to the two of you, a frown still placed on his lips.

“Y’all gonna cuddle without me?” he whines and in your tired state, you giggle quietly.

He stands up rushing over to the two of you and you let out a loud laugh when he lightly tackles both you and Dream. Sap wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him, and Dream whines.

“Oh come on,” Dream says when you end up half on Sap but still tangled up with your boyfriend.

You and Sap end up sitting up, detangling your arms before Dream pulls you back into him once again. You smile wide, glad to be with your favorite people.

“Group cuddle?”

[https-sen]

A Birthday Date with The Haikyuu Boys

(if its your birthday or birthday month rn, happy birthday ily :DD)

[ALL genders (including males) are allowed to read my fics <3]

Genre: Fluff :3

Pairing(s): Kenma x gn!reader

Characters:

Yamaguchi Tadashi & Kenma Kōzume

clowns/note: this is an excuse to write something like these because my birthday is on the 24th of May 🤭 but anyways i hope you enjoy, im not a professional and didnt proofread it since im lazy so im sorry if there are mistakes or if theyre out of character 🤡 i do these little fics entirely for fun! (i was thinking of an animal crossing or minecraft date but fuck it-🤺)

Kenma Kōzume

* click * * click * * click *

The sound of Kenma's keyboard clicking loudly as it awoken your peaceful slumber. Rubbing the sleep and tired from your eyes, you muster up a sleepy "Good morning" that made your sleep-deprived boyfriend perk up by the sound of your voice greeting him at 8 in the morning.

"Good morning, kitten."

He said sweetly, getting up from his gaming chair, giving you a kiss on your forehead followed by a "Happy birthday my lovely s/o" with a smile on his face. "You remembered?", you asked him in slight surprise, getting up from your cozy bed and putting on your Kuromi bunny slippers. "I might be playing games a lot but that doesnt give me an excuse to forget.", pouting slightly offended that you would think that he would stoop that low. Giggling softly, you tuck his hair around his ear and cupping his face with a reassuring "I love you" before getting up to take a shower.

"Pudding, whats all this?"

You asked him lovingly as you see the blonde boy in a kitty apron holding a shiba-inu spatula in his hand with flour on his left cheek (I CAN SEE THIS ONG 🥺). "Oh! You know that I'm not much of a cook so I found this 'Cloud-Bread' recipe on Pintrest and it didnt look so hard so I tried it..", he explained bashfully fiddling with the cat paw teaspoons you had. "I wanted to make you a special homemade birthday breakfast since you always make them for me but I made a mess instead, sorry. I'll make sure to clean ir up though!", he avoided eye contact and looked down at the floor. "Aw, bubs its okay I'm not mad with it, not one bit. Thank you for your hard work, now let's try it and cheer up okay?", you hugged him and rubbed circles around his back. Nodding, before he smiled, handing the little blue plate with an attempt of a pink heart-shaped bun with messy writing out of frosting reading out, "Happy Birthday Y/N <3". (imagine this though 😭) "Mmm, it's really good! It isnt over sweetened and its not burnt or has chunks in it, I'm really impressed.", after you take a bite from his little masterpiece. With a happy look tinted with his blushing red cheeks he took a bite himself.

"Wait, why'd you get me these Ken-Ken?"

Eyeing the pretty expensive looking ring in the little jewelry box on the coffee table thinking on how it costs a fortune. "I kinda knew I'd fuck the bread up so I got this just in case." Looking at him with a bewildered face full of awe and confusion, "But you didnt fuck anything up?? I told you I loved it and I even ate the entire thing as you watched me accidentally chocking within a few bites.", giggling softly he replied with "It'll be a waste since I got it either way and I know you collect these a lot anyways" Stuttering a protest, you got shushed by his finger along a scentence followed by a kiss on the cheek, "It can be our promise ring for now until we get married in the future, growing old together with kids and a great life ahead of us" Pulling him into a hug, you stayed there in each others arms as the sun setted with the thoughts of when the outcome will happen. "But for now, I'm glad being here with you."

BRO THIS SHIT BE MAKING ME FEELING SAD THAT IK I'LL NEVER GET THIS RELATIONSHIP LMAO 💀 idk if its just me but i think my writing is getting better? oh well- pls gimme a follow if u like what u read to support me :( i hope you enjoyed this <3 have a great day :> stay hydrated, healthy and safe! remember that ily, reader ^-^

[lillupon]

AEV Deleted scene(s) immediately following the events of chapter 21 + commentary

I fiddled with the idea of giving AEV minwon a long talk followed by a smutty ending, but I ultimately decided to scrap it. Their relationship is too complex to neatly tie up all the loose ends within a chapter, or even two. Attempting to do so would just needlessly drag out the fic; it’s really material for a sequel. Mingyu and Wonwoo have been apart for many years. During their separation, they’ve grown and changed as individuals, and they will need time to re-learn each other. There are many insecurities regarding age and experience to address, and they will have to reconcile who they were with who they have become. There’s a lot they need to unpack before they get back together and I don’t want to write that lmao (ah… the real reason appears… it’s too much work and I’m tired ;w; writing longfic is hard). Anyway, I think the end of chapter 21 was an appropriate place to close.

In the bonus below, they fall quickly in to bed together because I was being self-indulgent. But I’m not really sure if it makes sense for them to pick up right where they left off and bang in the car. At the same time, they’ve never been able to keep their hands off each other, so… I dunno! If you like the idea of them fucking, you can accept it as canon. If you like the idea of them taking their time, talking things through, that works too.

I will leave it up to your imagination <:

What happens next...

They kiss! Right there, in public, where anyone could walk by and see them. Because it doesn't matter now—they're both adults. Mingyu is no longer his student, hasn’t been for five years.

The kiss starts chaste at first: two people who have been separated for years, unsure of how they will fit together. Their mouths meet, Wonwoo's lower lip slotting between Mingyu's. For a brief moment, they part. And then they're kissing again, and each time, their kisses grow longer and deeper. Mingyu cups Wonwoo's neck in his palms, hands sliding back to tangle into short locks. A firm yet gentle grip tilts Wonwoo's head. Wonwoo moans, and it flips the switch on everything. 

Mingyu's tongue delves into his mouth. His body awakens under Mingyu's touch, fire surging in his veins and arousal roiling between his legs. They're in public, but Wonwoo can't help himself: the first dribble of slick leaks free. He can tell the exact moment Mingyu catches scent of it. A growl rips through Mingyu's chest; Wonwoo can feel the vibrations of it. 

They don't even make it as far as his apartment. Mingyu slides into the backseat of his car, Wonwoo slipping in after him. It's reminiscent of all those years they had sex in a Walmart parking lot. Except this time, Wonwoo is the one who initiates. He's the one who presses Mingyu against the angle of the seat and door. He makes himself at home between Mingyu's legs and kisses him with all the hunger and passion that he has tamped down for years. 

Meanwhile, he's fumbling with Mingyu's belt. The heel of his palm bumps against Mingyu's straining erection. Finally, he works the belt free. Pops open the button. Yanks down the zipper. He jams his hand down the front of Mingyu's pants, both of them breaking the kiss to moan. The burning hot and solid heft of Mingyu's cock feels so good in his hands. It's even better in his mouth. 

Wonwoo wastes no time closing his lips around the head of Mingyu's cock, moaning as the salty taste of precum bursts across his palate. He kisses and licks and slurps, drinking up the ambrosial liquid bubbling up at the slit. And then he swallows as much of Mingyu's cock as he can down his throat. Above him, Mingyu groans, hands flying to Wonwoo's hair and hips jerking. There's a thunk as his head falls back against the window. What Wonwoo can't fit into his mouth, he curls his fingers around. Sheathing his teeth, Wonwoo begins to bob his head up and down. Every time he rises, he swirls his tongue around the head of Mingyu's cock. 

Mingyu is barely restrained energy beneath him: his stomach is taut as a drum. The muscles of his thighs flex and release and shake with tension. Mingyu plays with the short hairs at the nape of Wonwoo's neck, low murmurs of praise punctuated by groans when Wonwoo sucks and licks him just right. 

Wonwoo is high with the knowledge that he is bringing his alpha this much pleasure. His head is blissfully empty of everything except for the sound of Mingyu's moans and the stretch of his mouth around Mingyu's cock. 

"Fuck, I'm close," Mingyu grits out. Wonwoo responds by stuffing Mingyu's cock down his throat. Mingyu's hand on his hair tightens, keeping him in place. Tears spring to Wonwoo's eyes. Mingyu's shaft goes rigid on his tongue and then begins to pulse hot and thick spurts of come down his throat. 

Wonwoo, moaning, swallows and swallows. There's so much of it. It spills out the corners of his mouth. Under his hands, Mingyu's hips spasm, and all of it is so hot that Wonwoo can't help himself. Without a single touch to his cock or hole, he begins to come, making a mess of his briefs. Wonwoo pulls off Mingyu's cock with a wet pop, cleans it up with laps of his tongue. Doesn't let a drop of come go to waste. 

Mingyu groans. “God, how are you this fucking per—" He cuts himself off and hauls Wonwoo up by the collar and kisses him, hard. 

They make it back to Wonwoo's apartment, the edge of their hunger slaked just enough to make the commute. Mingyu can't keep his hands off him. Kissing and mouthing at Wonwoo's neck and jawline and generally being very distracting, as Wonwoo fumbles for his keys. He's not in heat, but it sure as hell feels like it. At this point, his hole is so ready to be filled that it hurts. Slick drips down his inner thighs. Wonwoo wants to cry, he's so frustrated by his stupid door. Mingyu's making the task even harder by setting a proprietary on his ass, finger slipping between his asscheeks to rub at his clothed hole. Mingyu's grinding softly on him; Wonwoo can feel the hard ridge of Mingyu's erection on his hip.

Mingyu lays him down on bed and undresses him. Tugs down his trousers and finds out that Wonwoo has soiled his pants. "When did this happen, hm?" 

Wonwoo, embarrassed, throws a forearm across his eyes. “While I was sucking you," he mumbles. 

It isn’t long before Mingyu is pumping three fingers in and out of Wonwoo's ass. His other hand plays carelessly with Wonwoo's cock.

Mingyu still knows exactly how to touch him, how to make him squirm. His hips swivel of their own accord, bearing down on the fingers inside him. 

Wonwoo is lying on his stomach, a pillow beneath his hips, when Mingyu slides into him. Wonwoo reaches behind him to grab Mingyu’s ass, forcing him closer, urging him to go deeper. 

"So good," Wonwoo moans, voice thick with pleasure. He needs to know: "Is it good for you too?" The words are stuttered, punched out of him with each thrust.

Mingyu drapes himself over Wonwoo's back, planting a forearm by his head so he doesn't completely smother Wonwoo beneath his weight, but Wonwoo wants to be smothered. Mingyu drops a kiss on his shoulder. "Yeah," Mingyu breathes. "S'good for me too. You feel so good."

Their first fuck is hard and fast and exactly what Wonwoo needs. Mingyu ends up hauling Wonwoo up onto his hands and knees to better pound him. He digs his fingers into Wonwoo’s waist, pulling Wonwoo onto his cock every time he plunges inside.

It isn’t until their next round that they slow down. Mingyu lies atop him like a heavy blanket, his groans and ragged breathing hot against Wonwoo’s ear. He fucks Wonwoo with slow and deep rolls of the hips. Under him, Wonwoo has fallen apart into a moaning mess. 

His whole world narrows down to the place where they are connected. He swears he can feel it, the pounding of Mingyu’s heart against his back, the way his own heart beats in resonance. He can’t believe how good it feels to have Mingyu inside him, around him. It’s overwhelming. Wonwoo’s eyes go hot with tears. He buries his face into the sheets below. The next moan that leaves him almost sounds like a sob. 

Mingyu stops moving. Nuzzles against the nape of Wonwoo’s neck. “Hey, are you okay?”

Wonwoo nods. Doesn’t trust his voice. 

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu tries again. 

Wonwoo exhales shakily. “I’m okay. It’s just a lot. But in a good way.”

Mingyu hums an unconvinced noise.

“It’s good, I promise. Oh, god—please don’t stop…” 

Afterwards, they lie curled on their sides, pressed chest-to-back. Mingyu’s knot is lodged inside him. 

“I swear,” Mingyu says, nuzzling his neck, “I just wanted to talk to you, but you are irresistible.”

Everyone can smell it on Wonwoo when he goes to work the next day: an alpha's claim. No one mentions it because as teachers, they are nothing if not tactful. But Wonwoo catches the subtle flaring of their nostrils as they detect a new scent on him. Some of the nosier teachers even watch him as he limps down the hallways, wrecked by Mingyu's knot. 

They get their honeymoon. Mingyu fucks him over every available surface in his apartment: in the shower, over kitchen counters, up against a wall, over the back of a couch. Mingyu even holds Wonwoo suspended in the air as he fucks him, Wonwoo's legs wrapped around his waist. The position has Mingyu's cock reaching deep, and the display of alpha strength has an orgasm shaking out of Wonwoo within minutes. 

But as amazing as the sex is, what Wonwoo loves the most is the aftermath: Mingyu holding him and kissing him softly. Wiping him down with a washcloth and then carrying him to the bathroom. Mingyu prepares for them a post-sex meal. Even feeds him.

They spend a lazy Sunday afternoon together. Wonwoo's belly is pleasantly full from the lunch Mingyu had made: soy-glazed pork belly and stir-fried vegetables on rice. 

They're lounging on the couch, Wonwoo curled up against the arm of the sofa with a book in hand. Mingyu has fallen into a food coma and is using Wonwoo's lap as a pillow. Mingyu isn't even doing anything—blissfully asleep—and he is still distracting. Wonwoo has read the same sentence in his novel twenty times. 

With a sigh, he tucks a bookmark between the pages and lightly tosses the book onto the coffee table. He gazes at Mingyu, eyes following the straight slope of Mingyu's nose down to his lips. The years have been kind to Mingyu, turning him from a boyishly charming kid to a devastatingly handsome man. He is truly the alpha of Wonwoo's dreams, and Wonwoo thinks, with a thrill of excitement-fear-anticipation, that he might be able to fall in love with Mingyu, if he hasn't already.

[rowansparrow]

Juke Box Hero: A Rose Story

This is SO STUPID LMAO But I hope you guys like it anyway. I’m back on my bullshit and I am here to provide you with a little story based off THIS POST. Anon, thank you for your service, because this was very, very fun. 

This snippet takes place during Chapter Seven of BAON, during the flashback when Reader is meeting Rex for the first time and Rose and Co. are stuck cleaning up the barracks. You don’t necessarily have to have read it for this to make sense, but the right context might be neat. 

Also, for timeline purposes/in BAON, Tup and Dogma technically never met Rose, as they weren’t part of the 501st before he died, but I’m including them in this because I make the rules and I wanted to. 

Also Denal’s here because I think he’s a funky dude and deserves more content.

The clones deserve to dance and have fun and who’s gonna write them doing that if it ain’t me? 

Rating: Mature-ish? There are some dirty jokes and swearing but mostly it’s Just fun shenanigans with Rose and Bros. 

(Also I spent a TON of time picking everyone’s songs so pls tell me what you think of my selections lmao).

I’m tagging everyone from the BAON tag list in case you’re interested. Enjoy!

In retrospect, perhaps Rose should have put a stop to the loth cat situation – or as Hardcase called it, Operation: P.U.S.S.Y. He claimed it was an abbreviation for “Petting Unusually Sweet Strays, Yeah!”

“You have to call it something else.” Rose had said at the time, staring at the loth cat cradled protectively in Hardcase’s arms.

“But you’re not saying no?” Hardcase prompted eagerly, already bouncing lightly on his heels.

“Just…” Rose pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just… clean up after it? And if it breaks anything, it’s on you, and for the love of Force, don’t get caught.”

Now, as the Lieutenant surveyed the disarray that had befallen the barracks, and the company of very disgruntled subordinates, he was reconsidering his earlier leniency.

“I feel as the acting SIC, you’re the one who should be taking the flak for this, not the entire company.” Jesse grumbled, glaring at Lieutenant Rose over his shoulder as he scrubbed at the floor of the barracks.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who brought a pregnant loth-cat into the barracks in the first place.” Rose replied, straightening up for a moment where he’d been hunched over, his back cracking as he moved.

“Well, you didn’t fight me very hard on it!” Hardcase protested. “And I didn’t know Beans was pregnant at the time! I didn’t even know she was a girl!”

His explanation only earned him several slugs to the arm from nearby vode.

“And just because I’m second-in-command does not make me exempt from the Captain’s wrath.” Rose added. “You didn’t get the dressing-down, you just have to carry out the punishment with me.”

“Hang on, I thought we agreed the cat’s name was going to be Road Rash?” Coric asked.

“That’s unladylike.” Said Denal. “And rude. She can’t help her scars.”

“And Beans is ladylike?” Jesse raised an eyebrow.

“She likes it! And her kits looked like beans when they came out too!”

Rose shook his head fondly at his men as they bickered. At least they weren’t complaining anymore.

In truth, he was surprised the situation had been managed as long as it had been. They’d lasted almost a full three weeks without anyone figuring out they were hiding a cat in the barracks. Of course, the kittens made it much harder, and they could only hide them in overturned helmets during inspections for so many days before the helmets started to mewl.

And once Beans threw a tantrum over not having her kits with her, it was game over. She’d knocked over an entire can of armor paint in her wrath, and blue pawprints and large paint puddles coated the durasteel of the barracks, and a few of the bunks had claw and bite marks in the fabric.

“It’ll take us an hour, maybe more, to clean this whole mess up.” Fives complained, looking around the barracks forlornly. He had a nasty scratch just under his eye from finally snatching Beans up in her rampage. “Kriff. I was excited to go out tonight.”

“Not to mention after we finish here the Captain said we had to go take over latrine and canteen detail from other battalions.”

“Then I guess you better get scrubbing.” Kix said absently, thumbing through medical requisition forms on his datapad and sitting cross-legged on one of the few bunks that didn’t have blue paw prints streaked across it.

“Why aren’t you helping? You’re part of the company too.” Echo said. “Fives and I are ARC troopers, if anyone here should be exempt from company-wide punishments, it’s us.”

“I’m not helping because I didn’t participate.” Kix replied, not looking up from his ‘pad.

“The kark you didn’t, you delivered the kits!” Fives snapped.

“Well, Captain Rex didn’t catch me, so.”

“That’s because you went and hid in the medbay and didn’t warn the rest of us he was coming.” Tup muttered under his breath.

“Not true. I sent Jesse a comm.” Kix said, finally looking up only to shrug and return to his work. “Which he didn’t check, and that’s not my fault.”

“It doesn’t matter who was involved and who wasn’t involved.” Dogma piped up. “Clearly, because if it did, I wouldn’t be here either.”

“We know.” Said Jesse and Fives in unison.

Rose sighed, his eyes drifting forlornly to his bunk. He spotted his footlocker sticking halfway out from underneath the durasteel, and he lit up. He opened it quickly, pulling out a beat-up radio he’d gotten at a market stall during one of his first deployments. He’d had to trade a droid popper and half his rations for it – Rex had not been pleased about it when he found out – but it was worth the two-day latrine rotation he’d gotten as punishment.

He’d already downloaded several songs off the HoloNet, along with a few channel recordings of past BoloBall games. Even if he knew who won them, it was still something to listen to on long stints on cruisers.

“What’cha doing, Lieutenant?” Tup asked, peeking around the corner as Rose straightened back up, fumbling with the little radio for a moment and propping it up on one of the bunks so the music could fill the whole room.

“No. NO! No.” Jesse jabbed a finger at the Lieutenant as he saw him set up the radio. “No. Absolutely not. I have had enough of your osik-brained, Force-forsaken, whack-ass music to last me a lifetime.”

Kix chuckled, rolling his eyes at the other trooper. “You listen exclusively to electronic dance music. Even when we aren’t at 79s. You have no room to talk.”

“This is better than that.” Rose promised, dialing up the volume. “This is the kind of stuff you’d find on the jukebox at Dex’s Diner.” He grinned. Dex was personal friends with General Kenobi, and was one of the few Coruscant establishments that was friendly to clones, as long as they behaved themselves. Rose had gone there with his brothers a handful of times, and even Anakin had dragged his Padawan Ahsoka, Rose, and Rex along once.

“You have a radio?” Dogma frowned. “Isn’t that contraband, sir?”

“Relax, it’s an old prewar-era radio, it’s not hurting anything.” Fives drawled, knocking Dogma lightly on the shoulder. “What’re you gonna play, sir?”

“Let’s see…” Rose filtered through his downloads, and grinned wider, pressing play.

Immediately, soft music rang through the barracks, and Jesse smacked his head against the bunk, groaning loudly.

“I’m begging you, Lieutenant.” Jesse said. “I’m begging.”

Rose was already swaying his hips, bending over to grab Jesse by the chin.

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair, warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.” Rose serenaded him.

Jesse swatted Rose’s hand away, and Rose turned, swinging around on the side of the bunk and pointing to Fives this time. “Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night.”

Fives grinned, joining in even as he stumbled slightly over the words.

“There she stood in the doorway. I heard the mission bell and I was thinking to myself, this could be Heaven or this could be Hell.”

Kix was drumming his fingers on his datapad, nodding along and singing under his breath.

“Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way. There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say…”

“This is too slow.” Echo griped, rising to his feet and stepping over Dogma, who was still stubbornly scrubbing away at the barrack floors and refusing to engage even as the rest of the clones began quietly singing along with the chorus.

The ARC Trooper fiddled with the dial for a moment, scrolling through Rose’s music and selecting another song, already grinning as the chanting started through the speakers and eventually rippled through the ranks of the 501st.

“STOP.” Jesse barked, trying to kick Fives as the other ARC trooper hopped to his feet, stomping his feet and chanting along. “STOP, I HATE THIS ONE!”

Rose and Hardcase were chanting too, and Coric had started clapping his hands on an overturned bucket, a few shinies clapping their hands together as Echo shook his ass, kama swaying as he climbed up onto a nearby table. He scooped up a mop, pulling the handle to his mouth.

“I can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me.” He pointed to Kix, grinding against the handle. “Girl, you just don’t realize what you do to me.”

Kix gave him the finger, and Echo pointed to Fives, who was still chanting with the others but was now holding up his helmet, recording the whole thing. Echo amped up his performance.

“When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything’s alright. I’m hooked on a feeling!”

Tup whooped from where he’d moved to sit on one of the bunks. Dogma shot him a nasty look, which he ignored in favor of watching Echo strut on the table.

“I’m high on believing that you’re in love with me. Lips as sweet as candy, its taste is on my mind. Girl you got me thirsty for another cup of wine.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I have a good one.” Fives shoved his helmet at Hardcase, letting him take over recording as he scrambled to the radio, quickly turning the dial once again and elbowing Echo off the table as fast, loud, angry guitars shredded through the barracks.

Jesse seemed to perk up just slightly, and any of the 501st troopers who were still trying to actually clean – save for Dogma – had abandoned their supplies and had elected to dance instead, crowding the table and forming a makeshift mosh pit.

Fives was nothing if not a showman, and when he snatched the mop from Echo, he performed.

“When I get high, I get high on speed. Top fuel funny car’s a drug for me, my heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

He stomped his foot hard on the table, flipping his head back and running one hand messily through his hair.

“Always got the cops coming after me, custom-built bike doing 103, my heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

Rose laughed, watching as Fives looked at the helmet Hardcase was hoisting up over the crowd, singing into the camera and rolling his shoulders back.

“Ooh, are ya ready, girls? Ooh, are you ready now? Woah, yeah! Kickstart my heart, baby give it a start. Woah, yeah! Baby! Kickstart my heart, hope it never stops. Woah, yeah, baby yeah!”

The clones joined him for the chorus, and then Fives dropped to his knees like he’d seen rockers do on the HoloNet, high fiving the nearest vode. Dogma was still stubbornly trying to clean up the barracks, but had moved on to one of the far corners, only giving the rest of his battalion the occasional side-eye.

“Skydive naked from an aeroplane, or a lady with a body from outer space, my heart. My heart! Kickstart my heart.” He wiggled his hips as he straightened back up, biting his lip through a grin and dropping his hand to his hips and shaking his fist obscenely, as though he was jerking himself off.

“Say I got trouble, trouble in my eyes, I’m just looking for another good time, my heart. My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

Before Fives could do something else profane – or possibly attempt to crowd-surf and give Rose a handful of incident reports to fill out, the music suddenly shifted, and all heads turned to the radio.

Kix was smirking. He’d divested himself of the top half of his armor, instead electing to shimmy his way up onto the table in just the upper half of his blacks and lower armor plates. Fives exited, rejoining the crowd as Kix leveled a sultry look at the camera for just a moment before turning his back on the crowd.

“Clean shirt, new shoes, and I don’t know where I am goin’ to. Silk suit, black tie, I don’t need a reason why.”

He spun quickly, switching his grip on the mop handle as though he was holding a woman in his arms, dipping it low towards the crowd as he sang.

“They come a runnin’ just as fast as they can, ‘cos every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp dressed man.”

Fives and Echo were howling with laughter, and Hardcase wolf-whistled loud enough that Rose’s ears rang. Even Jesse had finally joined in, nodding his head along to the music and trying to bite back a grin. Tup had left the crowd to instead attempt to pull Dogma in, and Denal had rounded up a few newer members and was trying to push them closer to the front.

Kix unzipped the top half of his blacks, doing a slow strip-tease in time with the music.

“Gold watch, diamond ring, I ain’t missin’, not a single thing. And cufflinks, stickpin, when I step out I’mma do you in.” Kix shrugged out of his blacks and rolled his hips along the mop handle, dropping his ass low and slowly dragging himself back up, grinding against the handle.

“They come a runnin’ just as fast as they can, ‘cos every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp dressed man.”

Fives actually pretended to faint, falling backwards into Echo, who was laughing so hard that he fell over with him.

“ALRIGHT!” Dogma shouted over the music, elbowing his way through the crowd with Tup following anxiously behind him. Dogma firmly stopped the music, hands on his hips as he turned to face the rest of his brothers, who’d begun to boo.

“We have orders,” Dogma reminded them. “This is a punishment, not a party. When we finish here, we’re supposed to clean the shower block, and then we’re supposed to report to the mess hall and take over the canteen cleanup shifts.”

“We know the orders, Dogma.” Rose said, putting a hand on the younger trooper’s shoulder. “There’s no harm in having fun while you work.”

“I’m the only one still working.” Dogma grumbled.

“Alright, alright, we’ll turn it low for now, and we’ll finish up in here, then we can bring the radio with us when we move to the refreshers and canteen. Fair?” He asked, turning to the rest of the men. There were a few muttered responses, and Rose raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite make that out.” He said. “We are cleaning this mess up, correct gentlemen?”

“Sir yes sir!” They all answered quickly, hurrying back to work.

Rose chuckled, shifting the music to something a little calmer, the gentle piano wafting through the barracks as they continued to clean up.

Denal’s head perked up as soon as he heard the piano start, and while he didn’t climb up onto the table like his brothers had, he smiled to himself, turning back towards the spot he was scrubbing and singing to the durasteel floor.

“I'm sailing away. Set an open course for the Virgin Sea.”

Echo hummed, closing his eyes and rocking back on his heels for a moment, listening to his older vod croon.

“'Cause I've got to be free. Free to face the life that's ahead of me.” Denal continued, his voice soft but steady. “On board I'm the captain, so climb aboard. We'll search for tomorrow on every shore and I'll try, oh Lord I'll try… to carry on.”

Somebody whistled, a few scattered claps ringing through the barracks. Coric picked up where Denal left off.

“I look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memory. Some happy some sad.” He sang. “I think of childhood friends, and the dreams we had.”

Tup glanced to Dogma, who was practically seething as he scrubbed at the same spot on the floor that he’d been working on for the past several minutes. “You like this song, don’t you, Dogma?”

“No I don’t. Shut up.”

“Join in. They won’t mind.” Tup encouraged.

“No.”

“We live happily forever, so the story goes. But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold.” Sang Coric. “But we'll try best that we can to carry on!”

The music picked up, and Jesse shot Rose a look.

“This is a deceptively fast song.” He said.

“It sneaks up on ya.” Rose chuckled.

The barracks devolved into chaos once again, the clones all screaming along to the lyrics, even the ones who didn’t know the words picked it up quickly, encouraged by their brothers.

Despite the distractions, they finally finished cleaning the barracks, and Rose plucked the radio from where he’d stashed it, leading the way down the hallway towards the refreshers. The 501st were especially rowdy in the quiet halls – most of the barracks were empty, the clones who weren’t being punished for loth-cat related shenanigans were taking advantage of the shore leave.

When they opened the door to the shower block, they encountered a few members of the 212th already in there, cleaning up.

“Pack it in, lads.” Rose announced. “We’re taking over for you.”

“What? Why?” Boil asked, leaning on a mop and raising an eyebrow. “Did you get in trouble?”

“Yes.” Hardcase replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“All of you?” Waxer poked his head out from inside one of the refresher stalls, Crys and Wooley pausing from where they were wiping down countertops.

“Yeah, it’s Hardcase’s fault. As usual.” Jesse said, strolling over to Boil and plucking the mop from his hands. “We’re supposed to take over your shifts.”

“Good, I was hoping to get to 79’s tonight before last call. I hear they’ve got purple spotchka.” Boil said excitedly, glancing at Waxer over his shoulder.

“We can help you finish.” Waxer said, immediately raining on his brother’s parade. “There isn’t much left to do anyway.”

“You sure?” Rose asked. “It’s technically a punishment -.”

“Nah, it’s fine, there really isn’t much left, aside from the toilets.” He grinned. “But you boys can handle those.”

“Fair enough.” Rose chuckled, nodding over his shoulder to his men. Fives, Echo, Jesse, and Hardcase were in a heated four-way battle of rock, flimsi, cutters in order to determine who had to clean the toilets first.

“What’s that?” One trooper Rose didn’t recognize asked, pointing to his hand.

“It’s a radio!” Rose said cheerfully. “I’m err… technically not supposed to have it. But we’ve been listening to music while we worked.” He set it up on the countertop. “Do you have a favorite song…?”

“Spitter.” The 212th trooper supplied helpfully.

“Spitter.” Rose repeated, chuckling to himself and wondering how the hell he’d earned that name. “Do you have a favorite song?”

“I don’t know the name of it.” The trooper admitted shyly. “But – but it’s the one they play on the hits channel all the time. I hear it playing in the admiral’s quarters on the Negotiator all the time.”

“I know that one!” Waxer said excitedly, nodding to Rose. “It’s the one Commander Cody likes. You were playing it in the hangar a few weeks ago when our flight detail overlapped.”

“I remember.” Rose smiled, and turned the song on.

Immediately, every head, including Dogma’s, perked up at the familiar tune. Fives clapped his hands together, getting them started.

“When I wake up, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.”

The younger trooper, Spitter, lit up and followed it up.

“When I go out, yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you.”

Waxer elbowed Boil, trying to get him to join in, but the other trooper shook his head and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes even as Waxer sang.

“If I get drunk, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.”

Their voices carried through the refresher’s tiled walls, and Jesse picked up where Waxer left off.

“And if I haver, yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you.”

When the chorus rolled around, everyone joined in, their voices bouncing off the walls around them.

“But I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more, just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door.”

“When I’m working,” Kix began, offering a hand to Wooley and giving him a playful spin. “Yes I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s working hard for you.”

“And when the money comes in for the work I do, I’ll pass almost every penny on to you.” Wooley laughed, shoving Kix away with a grin.

“When I come home,” Tup piped up quickly, before someone else could. “Oh, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you.”

“And if I grow old,” Crys smirked, shaking his shoulders at Fives, who punched him playfully in the arms and joined in, singing the line in unison. “Well, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s growing old with you.”

The chorus returned, and they sang with even more feeling than before, dancing and tossing their heads back, shouting along to the words and nearly drowning out the music itself as they sang.

As the final verse approached, Waxer sidled up next to Boil, giving him a hopeful look. His brother sighed, scrubbing a hand bitterly over his face and reluctantly joined in.

“When I’m lonely, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s lonely without you.” He sang.

“And when I’m dreaming,” Echo called. “Well I know I’m gonna dream, I’m gonna dream about the time when I’m with you.”

“And when I go out, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you.” Fives followed.

“And when I come home, yes I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who comes back home with you.” Denal said.

Tup took a deep breath, preparing to finish off the verse, but he was cut off.

“I’m gonna be the man who’s coming home,” Dogma’s voice was shaky as all eyes turned to him, and he finished in a squeak. “With you.”

The room erupted in cheers, Fives catching Dogma under his arm and giving him a noogie as the chorus rang out once again, everyone shouting along to the lyrics together.

When the song ended, and the cleanup was done, the 212th parted ways with the 501st, the brothers patting one another on the back and jeering affectionately at one another now that the song and dance was done.

“If you finish with everything before final call, catch up with us at 79’s.” Boil called over his shoulder. “We can give the vode there a run for their money with our rendition of that song.”

“Count on it.” Rose chuckled, giving the other company a little salute before leading his men on towards the canteen.

The canteen, blessedly, was empty, and most of it was already clean. All they really had to do was wipe everything down, mop, and then make sure the kitchen was well-prepped for the next day.

“I didn’t know you had it in ya, Dogma.” Echo said affectionately, knocking his younger vod playfully in the shoulder as they walked.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Dogma muttered, his ears burning as he pushed into the canteen, grabbing the cleaning supplies from the nearby supply closet.

“Who’s turn was it for a solo?” Fives asked, watching as Rose started to set up the radio above one of the food windows so it could project into the entire cafeteria.

“I think Dogma should go.” Kix grinned. “Now that we know he’s got some pipes.”

“Absolutely not.” Dogma said immediately, not looking up from where he was wiping down tables.

“I can go first?” Tup offered, raising his hand sheepishly. Dogma shot him another stern look, but Tup was already wandering over to the radio, moving the dial and tentatively pressing play.

Upbeat music filled the canteen, and the other troopers cheered as Fives ushered Tup over to the nearest table, boosting him up on top of it and then thrusting a mop into his hands. Hardcase was already fumbling with the helmet again, trying to get a recording as Tup tapped his foot along with the beat, nodding his head as he found his rhythm.

“I get up in the evening, and I ain’t got nothing to say. I come home in the morning, I go to bed feeling the same way.”

Fives was leading other troopers in pounding the surrounding tables in time with the drumbeats while Echo was leading another group to clap in time.

“I ain’t nothing but tired! Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself.” Tup flashed the camera a grin, reaching up and pulling his hair tie out, shaking his wild curls loose around his head. “Hey there baby, I could use just a little help.”

Jesse whistled, and Dogma had stopped cleaning and was watching his brother, the slightest smile pulling at his lips.

“You can’t start a fire, can’t start a fire without a spark. This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancing in the dark.”

Tup shook his hair out of his eyes, tossing his head back and jerking his hips.

“Messages keep getting clearer, radio’s on and I’m moving ‘round my place. I check my look in the mirror, wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face!”

He swayed his hips again, and Hardcase shoved the camera at Kix instead so he could join in the clapping.

“Man, I ain’t getting nowhere, I’m just living in a dump like this. There’s something happening somewhere, baby I just know that there is.”

He hopped off the table, instead taking Dogma’s hand and dragging him towards the makeshift stage.

“You can’t start a fire, you can’t start a fire without a spark. This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancing in the dark.”

He pushed the mop into Dogma’s hands instead, beaming at him as he scurried off the table, sprinting over to the radio and quickly changing the song.

Immediately, slow guitar started but quickly escalated into heavy drums and fast riffs. Dogma’s cheeks turned a darker shade, and he looked frantically to Tup, trying to climb back down off the stage.

“No, no, come on!” Fives shouted, trying to body block Dogma from getting down. “Come on, you got this!”

The lyrics began, and Dogma sang along, his mouth barely moving, voice almost imperceptible.

“Another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken… and the violence caused such silence, who are we mistaken?”

“Come on!” Tup called to him. “You LOVE this song! Let ‘em hear it!”

Dogma grit his teeth, his voice gaining strength. “But you see, it’s not me, it’s not my family, in your head, in your head they are fighting.”

He stomped his foot on the table, practically snarling out the words. “With their tanks, and their bombs, and their bombs, and their guns, in your head, in your head they are crying.”

He threw his head back, and for not the first time that night, the radio was drowned out by cheers.

“In your head! In your head! Zombie, Zombie, Zombie. What’s in your head? In your head? Zombie, Zombie, Zombie!”

Dogma climbed off the table quickly, his ears and cheeks burning but a small smile was on his face, even as he was smothered by Hardcase, Fives, Tup, and Echo swarming him with hugs and rubbing his head affectionately.

Jesse climbed up onto the table next, picking up the discarded mop and clearing his throat.

“I would just like to dedicate this song to the gorgeous woman I picked up at 79s last week.” He drawled, nodding once to Kix, who was hovering knowingly by the radio. He nodded once to the helmet, which was now stationed on a nearby table, still recording. “Darling, you had the best pair of tits I have ever seen in my entire life, and you had the mouth of an angel and the coochie of a devil.”

Fives whistled, and Coric snickered. Rose rolled his eyes.

“So, babygirl, this one is for you.”

Kix turned on the radio, and Jesse grinned.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. Darling, you give love a bad name.”

Guitar rang out through the mess hall, and Jesse bit his lip, rolling his hips as he leaned slightly off the edge of the table.

“An angel’s smile is what you sell, you promised me heaven then put me through hell. Chains of love got a hold on me, when passion’s a prison, you can’t break free.”

He dropped into a crouch, singing directly into the camera.

“Whoa, you’re a loaded gun, whoa, there’s nowhere to run, no one can save me, the damage is done!”

He jumped to his feet, the table shaking under him as he landed.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. You give love a bad name. I play my part and you play your game, you give love a bad name!” He turned his back on the crowd, dropping low again and slowly rising, shaking his ass. “Yeah you give love…”

He looked over his shoulder, tossing the camera a wink. “…a bad name.”

The music changed abruptly, and for a moment Jesse looked pissed. “What the hell, ‘Case?”

But his expression shifted as Hardcase rushed to the table, pushing his brother out of the way and taking the mop from him. The crowd cheered all over again as Jesse climbed down, brothers slapping him on the shoulders as Hardcase’s song started up.

“We finish strong, right vode?” He asked cheekily.

“We still have to finish cleaning!” Dogma called back.

Hardcase only smirked in response, and sang quickly to keep up with the lightning fast lyrics.

“Backstroking lover always hiding ‘neath the cover, can I talk to you, my daddy say. He said, you ain’t seen nothing ‘til you’re down on a muff and then you’re sure to be a-changin’ your ways.”

He cupped his codpiece, bucking his hips forward into his own hand.

“I met a cheerleader, was a real young bleeder, all the times I can reminisce. ‘Cos the best things of lovin’ with her sister and her cousin only started with a little kiss, like this!”

He swung his arms wide, shaking his ass in time with the music and stuck his tongue out, having the time of his life.

“See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school and your feet flyin’ up in the air. Singin’ hey diddle diddle with your kitty in the middle of the swing like you didn’t care.”

He walked backwards along the table, rolling his shoulders back as he moved.

“So I took a big chance at the high school dance with a missy who was ready to play. Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘cos she knew what she was doin’, and I know love is here to stay when she told me to walk this way!”

The rest of the 501st joined in with him, repeating the chorus of “Walk this way! Walk this way! Walk this way!” over and over again, Hardcase taking over again as the next verse began.

“School girl sweetie was the sassy kinda classy, little skirt’s climbing way up her knees. There was three young ladies in the school gym locker when I noticed they was lookin’ at me.”

He ran his hands along his thigh, mimicking raising a skirt.

“I was a high school loser, never made it with a lady ‘til the boys told me something I missed. Then my next-door neighbor with a daughter had a favor so I gave her just a little kiss, like this!”

“Do you think he has any idea what he’s singing about?” Kix asked Rose, leaning back against the counter and chuckling.

He watched as Hardcase went back to grabbing his own crotch, dry-humping the air and hummed.

“I’d say most likely.”

“See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school and your feet flyin’ up in the air. Singin’ hey diddle diddle with your kitty in the middle of the swing like you didn’t care.”

Hardcase grinned, and to both Kix and Rose’s utter chagrin, Hardcase actually did dive off the makeshift stage and attempt to crowd surf.

“So I took a big chance at the high school dance with a missy who was ready to play. Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘cos she knew what she was doin’, and I know love is here to stay when she told me to walk this way!”

“I’m not patching you up!” Kix shouted over the roar of the music. Rose chuckled, turning the volume nod down as the rest of the 501st shouted in protest.

“Alright, that’s enough for now.” The Lieutenant said, taking control once more. “We can listen to it quietly in the background, but we really do need to wrap up cleaning.”

“Why? Got a date tonight?” Jesse asked with a raised eyebrow. Rose punched him lightly in the arm, and they got back to work once again.

They worked in relative silence, the occasional voice humming or singing along to the music, but they remained productive right up until one of the final songs Rose had downloaded cut through the speaker. The piano wasn’t as rich-sounding as it was through a regular speaker, but even through the tinny cadence of the beat-up radio, every single trooper in the canteen bolted upright, eyebrows raised. Rose smiled knowingly, and turned up the volume once again.

Fives beamed, sitting down on top of one of the tables and laying back, one leg bent and the other stretched flat, a hand behind his head as he sang up at the ceiling.

“Just a small-town girl, living in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere.”

Jesse leaned back against the wall on the other side of the canteen, closing his eyes as he joined in.

“Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit. He took the midnight train going anywhere.”

Echo kept mopping, but was grinning as he picked up the next line. “A singer in a smoky room, the smell of wine and cheap perfume.”

Kix grinned. “For a smile, they can share the night, it goes on, and on, and on, and on.”

The rest of the 501st joined in together, their voices carrying in perfect harmony.

“Strangers, waiting. Up and down the boulevard, their shadows searching in the night. Streetlight people, living just to find emotion, hiding somewhere in the -.”

“Night!” Hardcase shouted, straining every muscle in his chest and neck as he struggled to reach the high note.

Tup picked up the next verse, climbing onto one of the tables and dragging Dogma up with him once again.

“Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants the thrill. Paying anything to roll the dice just one more time.”

Dogma smiled, nodding his head along to the music. “Some will win, some will lose.”

Tup threw his arm around his brother, and the two of them sang together. “Some were born to sing the blues!”

Rose’s voice carried from over by the radio. “Oh the movie never ends, it goes on and on, and on and on!”

“Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard, their shadows searching in the night. Streetlight people, living just to find emotion, hiding somewhere in the -.”

“NIGHT!” This time, it was Dogma, of all people, who rang out with the high note, and the explosion of shouts and cheers was deafening. They were screaming along to the lyrics, dancing and jumping and shouting and swaying in time with the song.

“Don’t stop believin’! Hold on to that feeling. Streetlight people! Don’t stop believin’, hold on-”

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

The booming voice was so powerful, it could be heard even over the shouts of all the clones. Echo was closest to the radio, and quickly shut it off as the song and dance stopped immediately, every clone scrambling to stand at attention.

The Jedi that filled the doorway was massive, an imposing shadow in the entrance to the canteen. He zeroed in on Tup and Dogma, who had been standing closest to the entrance, and stormed towards them.

“Who is your commanding officer?!”

“Me, sir.”

The Besalisk Jedi turned, spinning on Rose immediately. He stalked over to the Lieutenant, jabbing a meaty finger into his chest, hard enough to send him stumbling backwards.

“What is the meaning of this?” He snarled.

“Sir, we were assigned cleaning detail.” He explained. “We were just finishing up.”

The Jedi bared his teeth. “Doesn’t look like much cleaning was taking place to me.”

He surveyed the rest of the troopers, but turned his head back to Rose.

“What is your designation?”

“CT-7673.” Rose recited immediately, keeping his back ramrod straight at attention, even though the Jedi was deep in his personal space. He knew this man. General Krell had quite the reputation through the GAR, and Rose had no clue what he was doing outside of the Jedi Temple this late at night.

“Who is your commanding officer?”

“Captain Rex, sir.”

“Not a clone! Is there a malfunction in your design?!” The Jedi bellowed. A few feet behind him, Hardcase flinched at the sudden loud sound, but Rose held still. “Your general, CT-7673! Who is your Commanding Officer!?”

“General Skywalker, sir.” Rose said instead. The canteen was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

He turned his head, noticing the little radio on the table and picked it up, the device small in his massive hands, raising an eyebrow at Rose. “Contraband, disturbance of the peace, behavior unbecoming of an officer, insubordination.” He hissed. “That’s plenty of grounds for a court martial, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.” Fives spoke up, taking a step towards them. “Proper chain of command designates General Skywalker as the one to hand down a court martial order, sir.”

He narrowed his eyes, his voice dripping with contempt. “With all due respect, sir, you do not command this battalion, and cannot order a court martial on the Lieutenant.”

“Fives.” Rose snapped, whipping his head around to face Fives. “Stand down. Now.”

The ARC Trooper shrank back, his hands curled into fists at his sides, and the General turned back to Rose.

“Be that as it may,” he began icily. “You can rest assured this breach of conduct will not go unreported.”

“Yes sir.” Rose replied stiffly.

General Krell pulled back at last, surveying the battalion. “I want this canteen spotless, and not a word out of you in the meantime!” He ordered. “And I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore.”

With one quick motion, he smashed the radio in his hands. Rose heard a soft, hurt sound somewhere behind him, but ignored it. He didn’t look away from the General.

“Dismissed.” Krell growled, turning and stalking towards the doors. “And as for you,” He turned, jabbing one large finger at Fives. “I’ll be mentioning you in my report as well. Pray our paths do not cross again, clone.”

And with those words, he left the canteen.

Rose relaxed, but only minimally so. The silence hung heavy over the 501st, and everyone quietly shuffled back to work.

Rose gripped the mop handle tightly as he worked, his knuckles turning white. His chest burned, a tight, constricting feeling wrapped around his insides. It was a feeling he’d never felt before – anger, sadness, humiliation, resignation – all rolled into one hateful ball, coiled in his gut.

“Finished with the kitchen, sir.” Came Tup’s small voice. He’d put his hair back up, the tight bun back to regulation standards. Dogma was standing stiff beside him, still not entirely relaxed yet. “And the um – the canteen area’s just about wrapped up as well.”

“Very good.” Rose said with a small nod. “I’ll report back to Captain Rex, let him know we’ve finished for the night.”

“Sorry about your radio, sir.” Hardcase murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s alright, ‘Case.” Rose smiled, but his eyes were sad. “It was – it was old, anyway. Just a silly thing.”

Fives bristled, his jaw setting as he tossed the bucket he’d been holding back into the supply closet with far more force than necessary.

“We aren’t supposed to leave base for the rest of the night, right?” Denal asked, arms folded across his chest as they finished the last of the cleanup. “Guess we could play Sabacc or something back in the barracks?”

There were a few murmured agreements, and the 501st shuffled back towards the barracks. Rose was still thinking about the General, and had a bitter taste in his mouth. They hadn’t been doing anything wrong, really.

Was it such a crime to enjoy oneself? To simply exist?

Fives and Echo fell into step on either side of Rose, the ARC Troopers bracketing their Lieutenant. “I bet Echo and I could rebuild the radio.” Fives offered. “Might take a little bit, but even if we can’t, Kix is real good at bartering stuff down in the markets. Remember when he got us those HoloDisc movies for just a tube of bacta?”

“We could find another radio for you?” Echo suggested hopefully. “Or maybe,” he lowered his voice slightly. “Maybe Y/N could find you one?”

“Let it go.” Rose said, picking up the pace and pulling away from the ARC Troopers. They reentered the now far tidier barracks, and Rose gravitated back to his footlocker, starting to close it up and push it back under his bed. The metal clacked slightly against the edge of the bunk, and he paused, the tinny sound echoing in his ears.

He knocked the footlocker against the bunk again, listening to the little noise again.

Kark it. He was more than just a mindless flesh-droid. He was a person. A human being. And he liked music.

And he wasn’t about to let anybody take that away from him.

“I never got to do a song.” He announced, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips.

“You can’t be serious, sir.” Dogma said, shaking his head at him. “Haven’t we gotten in enough trouble?”

“I’m sure the General’s slithered back to the Temple by now, where he belongs.” Jesse replied, turning back to the Lieutenant. “We don’t have a radio anymore, sir.”

“We don’t need one.” Rose said, pulling his footlocker back out and propping up one leg on it. He tapped his foot against the metal, the rhythm settling, nodding his head along. He took a deep breath.

“Standing in the rain, with his head hung low. Couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show.”

Fives recognized the song, and started tapping his foot along, drumming his hands on an overturned weapons crate.

“Heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene. Put his ear to the wall, then like a distant scream.” Rose climbed up onto the table. “He heard one guitar!”

Jesse slammed a bucket from earlier down against the supports of a bunk, the loud clang mimicking the strum of a guitar.

“Just blew him away. He saw stars in his eyes, and the very next day, bought a beat up six string in a secondhand store. Didn’t know how to play it, but he knew for sure, that one guitar!”

Another clang, this time from Kix repeating Jesse’s motion, and Echo, Denal, Coric and Fives were all drumming on overturned buckets and crates.

“Felt good in his hands! Didn’t take long to understand, just one guitar, slung way down low, was a one way ticket, only one way to go.”

Tup and Hardcase had picked up a brush – typically used for scrubbing their blasters and armor down – and were knocking it against the durasteel wall. Dogma had rounded up the others, a look of sheer determination on his face as they clamored around the bunks and tables, smacking their fists in rhythm with anything they could get their hands on.

“So he started rockin', ain't never gonna stop. Gotta keep on rockin', someday gonna make it to the top!”

Rose stomped his feet, and the rest of the 501st joined him for the chorus.

“And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. He's a juke box hero!”

“He took one guitar,” Rose sang, while the rest of the battalion echoed “juke box hero, stars in his eyes” around him. “Juke box hero, he’ll come alive tonight.”

The singing quieted down, listening for a moment to see if anyone was coming, and Rose grinned, starting again and pitching his voice low.

“In a town without a name, in a heavy downpour, thought he passed his own shadow, by the backstage door.”

The clones took position, preparing to resume their makeshift instruments as Rose picked up in volume.

“Like a trip through the past, to that day in the rain. And that one guitar, made his whole life change! Now he needs to keep on rockin', he just can't stop! Gotta keep on rockin', that boy has got to stay on top!”

Once again, shouts rang out as his brothers joined him for the chorus, their voices louder and more determined than ever, refusing to be silenced.

“And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. He's a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. Yeah, juke box hero, stars in his eyes. With that one guitar, he'll come alive, come alive tonight.”

As they finished the song, Rose panted softly, glancing down at his commlink again. He decided he was going to go off base after all. He wanted to see you, and nobody, not his Captain’s orders, and definitely not some karking General like Krell, was going to stop him.

“Dismissed.” He said curtly, and took off out the door without another word.

~

SONGS USED (because they’re all bangers and you should listen to them): 

The 501st (introduction): Hotel California Echo: Hooked on a Feeling  Fives: Kickstart My Heart Kix: Sharp Dressed Man Jesse: You Give Love a Bad Name Coric and Denal: Come Sail Away Dogma: Zombie Tup: Dancing in the Dark Hardcase: Walk This Way The 212th and 501st: I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) The 501st (Canteen finale): Don’t Stop Believin’ Rose and the 501st: Juke Box Hero

TAG LIST (Aka everyone on the tag list for BAON):  @fat-zygerrian @ladydiomede @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @threevie @cheesemachine44 @bubblyacey @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @loverofclones @starwarsgarbage @hockeyjedi13 @crazygirlwithasword @dar-manda-rjct @gotomarvelgal @baba-fett @whore4rex @bubblegumcat229 @generalcannoli @hellothere501stlover @in-the-crosshairs @vaderthepotater @for-the-love-of-clones @babyhowzer @imrealatedtothe501st @chewychewyque @bobafettuccini @baba-fett-writes @chromia7567 @coffeeandtodd @thedomesticatednerd @kirinpl @djarrex @a-c-lee @embarrassedauthornerd @kaorikoizumi @the-girl-of-rain-and-shadows @sammi9498 @theroguesully @salaminus

[junowritings]

how about before being isekai'ed to NRC mc was a vigilante? like a mix of daredevil and batman or like deadpool and red hood? imagining mc using martial arts or macgyvering unassuming everyday objects into weapons to defeat overblots instead of magic seem cool, the funniest scenario, mc using a wooden spoon, a slipper or even if you watched icarly a butter sock to hit and defeat an opponent would be hilarious

Honestly I love the idea of this scenario! Part of me always kind of wished with the overblots is that the MC would get involved somehow - I know it’d be dangerous, but who doesn’t love going a lil feral at some overblot monsters lmao ------

It’s like something straight out of a comic book. Sure, the same thing could be said about your situation - a self-made vigilante fighting to protect those close to you from idiots who think they’re smart enough to cause anything other than trouble - but getting straight up isekai’ed into another universe full of magic and fairy tale rewrites really takes the cake of weird situations you’ve gotten roped into. Guys in masks? You’ve seen them in abundance back home, so while the ‘extravagant’ nature of the headmaster is weird, it doesn’t really phase you. Being surrounded by a bunch of confused boys with vividly bright hair (and do some of those guys have razor teeth? You really don’t wanna find out if they do) and having a talking cat ranting your ear off about becoming the greatest wizard of all time...that’s around the time you figure out this isn’t just some elaborate kidnapping plot.

Being shacked up in this new world isn’t as bad a deal as you thought it would be, though going from physical fights every other week to just having to worry about classes was...an experience, to say the least, and takes a bit of getting used to in terms of putting your guard down. It isn’t long during your stay at Night Raven college that you start garnering attention too, and not just because of the circumstances surrounding your enrollment. Your way of dealing with things is a lot more physical than many of them used to; when Ace had first come to Ramshackle after being collared by Riddle, instead of asking what it was or what he’d done, you’d instead just sat him down and spent the better part of half an hour picking the lock. Granted, it wasn’t enough to crack Riddle’s magic, but Ace is pretty sure he heard something click open while you fiddled with the keyhole - and that was just a speck of some of your skills. 

The physical prowess and litheness that comes from your ‘profession’ were valuable assets back in your homeworld, and while you’re not there anymore you’re still able to make use of them in this world, or you try to, at least. It makes for a hell of an entertaining sight during Ashton’s classes - you’ve just about knocked everyone in your class on their ass at least once (both intentionally and unintentionally). It’s been useful getting to lessons too, though you’ve spooked more than a few of your fellow classmates when they’ve caught you scaling the side of the building to skip the stairs and make it to class on time. You’ll never forget the shriek Ace let out when you dove through the window, skidded across the floor, and slid seamlessly into your seat right before the professor came through the door. Things like that have earned you more than a few skeptical looks, but it’s also led to more than a few people coming up to you to ask how you do it.

Just because you’re in a school setting doesn’t mean you slack off on your training. If anything, it means you have to train all the more to make sure you’re not growing rusty - you’re not about to get left in the dust just because all of these guys have wands and this ‘unique magic’ business at their disposal. That being said the lack of a fighting partner makes things difficult; when you first get settled into Ramshackle you find plenty of furniture beyond repair that you’ve been able to use, and with everything being such a cluttered mess it makes for the perfect obstacle course as you fight to clean it all up. But you’re missing your training buddies, and as much as Grim gets on your case about you being his subordinate, you’re not about to get expelled for fighting your magical feline housemate...not just yet, anyway. You do look around for some sparring partners though, and you find some pretty damn good ones in the process. Deuce is one of the first, being quite the fighter in the past, but given that it’s a skill he hasn’t actively trained it doesn’t take long for you to - quite literally - sweep his feet out from under him. Jack’s fairy competent too thanks to all of the muscle, so sparring with those two at once has given you something to bond over after school. As you got to know more students, you found a pretty good training buddy in Rook - you guess being a hunter has its perks, and isn’t that far off from being a vigilante, but it gives you one hell of a lesson to avoid getting on his bad side.

They’ve seen you make impromptu weapons out of things before - you just about took Floyd’s head off with a spatula when he’d rushed through the door unannounced, and Grim keeps finding the ends of the kitchen’s wooden utensils sharpened to a point when he sneaks down for late night snacks. You’re guessing old habits die hard, and it's tricky business completely stopping some of your more bizarre daily tasks. 

Looks like those same skills come in handy when the overblots happen however! It’s not as though anyone gives you a crash course on magic overuse and overblotting, so when you see Riddle transform and watch that huge, tank of a thing start forming up behind him you have what you’d like to call, a reasonable reaction. The boys are preparing to fight their overblotted friend when a tea cake stand comes sailing overhead and nails the being behind Riddle directly in the face - or pot, you guess. 

The thing is at least physical, which means you can hit it, and your friends are too preoccupied with Riddle to stop you from barging into the fray with just about every impromptu weapon you can get your hands on. Plates, cups, shoes, amongst other things shower the air as you close the distance, and at one point you end up hoisting up one of the garden chairs and swinging it up at the jar head until you have enough momentum to let go. The sound of shattering glass has you letting out a triumphant holler as you backtrack to avoid the spew of ink that spatters across the floor, cracks fanning out across the inkpot‘s surface as its hands fly up to its broken ‘face’ and it howls as though appalled by your audacity.

Whether that actually has a hand in finishing the fight or not, it isn’t long after that the overblot incident passes and Riddle collapses; however, that’s not before you get a couple more hits in, just about bringing the overblot to its knees by the time it finally dissipates for good. Once the Heartslabyul dorm leader is back on his feet and led away to rest and recover somewhere less demolished, that’s when the attention is focused back on you. 

There’s more than a few comments about you getting involved in the fight when you have no magic - some comments are admonishing, telling you to be more careful and to not be so reckless; others however are more than a little intrigued by the turnout. Ace just about knocks you over when he claps his hands onto your shoulders and demands to know how the hell you learned to move like that, and Grim is more than a little puffed up bragging about how of course his lackey would be so useful. It catches you off guard - you’re so used to just doing this in your day-to-day life that having someone admonish or praise you is...nice, in a way. It reminds you of when you first took up the vigilante mantle, and you find yourself brimming with excitement at the thought. If they think what you did then was neat, just wait till you tell them about all of your escapades in your home world! You’ve got enough to keep em hooked for days.

[vintagedolan]

I don’t even know what to call this lmao, but here’s your continuation of this blurb based on the gif above :)

warning: smut :’)

“Shoes on or off?”

“On,” you hummed, curious to see how it would play out with you in heels. If Grayson swallowing hard enough for you to see it was any indication, it was probably the right decision, and once again, you felt the warmth of confidence spread through you again. It was reassuring in a way, to know that you had the same effect that he so obviously had on you.

He kept walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. Usually, this would be the point where you fell back onto the mattress, and Grayson fell on top of you. But, he made a spur of the moment decision and pulled you forward to kiss you hard, keeping you standing there in your heels for a moment longer.

“I have an idea.”

“I’m listening,” you mumbled, already a bit breathless just from anticipation alone. 

“You wanna feel sexy right?” 

It seemed almost childish for him to say it so outright, but there was nothing childish about the way his thumb was brushing across your lace covered boob, tickling over your nipple that was just barely hidden away.

“Yes.”

“Well. When do you feel sexiest?” 

“Gray.”

“I’m serious, I wanna know!” He took in your blush and your hesitation with a soft smile. “Here, I’ll start. But let me do something really quick.”

You frowned a bit at the loss of contact when he stepped away, but it was only to turn the lights off and turn the LEDs under his bed on - a new addition to the bedroom that he was rather proud of. And it was no surprise that he left them on red - it made the dark green of the wall wash black, along with the lace and straps against your skin. He came back over to you, devilishly close, and placed a hand on your waist as his fingers traced over the silky strap of your garter belt. It was a delicate thing - one of his fingertips was wider than it was - but he didn’t show any sign of wanting to take it off of you. His eyes just traveled over you, every curve shown off in the red lights as he spoke.

“I feel sexiest when...” He traced his hand up, over your side and back up to your boob, with just enough contact for your body to shudder. “...when I make your body react like that. Or when you say my name when you cum. Just...you. Getting you worked up, it makes me feel good, like I’m doing something right.”

If his words weren’t so filthy that they went straight to your panties, they may have actually been sweet. But he knew exactly what he was doing, from the tenor of his voice to the way his hands have traveled from the belt down to your ass, hands spreading wide over the flesh. It had your entire body buzzing already, and it didn’t help matters that he leaned in and nipped at your ear, breath hot against your neck.

“What about you, hmmm? What does it for you baby, tell me.”

As if it wasn’t hard enough to get your answer together, he pressed kisses down your shoulder and back up to your neck as he waited for you to find your words. 

“When you cum fast. Or when I can tell you’re trying not to, but you want to.”

“You make my job very hard,” he hummed, unable to stop himself from interrupting. Every word you were saying went straight to his dick, and it took all his self control to stay still. You were in the same boat when he leaned back up and you looked down, saw the ridges of his abs contrasted in the red, saw the way he was tenting his boxers.

“And when you can’t keep your hands off me, no matter where we are.”

At that he groaned low in his chest, thumbs tracing over the vertical straps that sat snug over your ass cheeks, up and down. If he moved any further forward he’d realize you were practically dripping for him already, and you bit your lip at the thought. Sure, you and Grayson always had your fair share of foreplay, but this? This was something else.

“What else, tell me.” If you could have seen his eyes in the lighting, his pupils would have been blown wide open. 

“When you talk to me, tell me how I make you feel. Lets me know when I’m doing a good job.” That one, for some reason, made you blush the hardest. Maybe because of the cheeky smile that stretched across his lips.

“You always do a good job baby. Trust me on that one,” he teased, finally kissing you again, apparently satisfied with your answers. You couldn’t decide where to put your hands, so you settled for his sides, running your nails over his ribcage gently as he held your face with both his hands, pressing you to him as his tongue overtook yours.

You’d heard Grayson Dolan say a lot of dirty things in the bedroom. But god, were you woefully unprepared for what he said when he pulled his lips back from yours.

“Make me cum. I want you to see how fast you can make me cum.”

If you weren’t holding onto him, you probably would have fallen over. Never, not once, had he asked you for something like this. Usually the roles were entirely reversed, and it lit a fire in you that you didn’t know you had the embers for. 

With a sudden burst of confidence you spun the two of you around, pushing on his chest until he fell back against the mattress, the way you usually did. Now, you could understand why he always paused for a moment, why he looked you over so heavily when he had you like this. He looked blissful, beautiful, godly laid out there before you, even when he bridged his hips up to free himself of his boxers. 

There was no time for teasing, not when he’d asked you so outright for what he wanted, and what you wanted. So, you immediately crawled up to him, getting your waist level with his before you swung a leg over. It took a moment of maneuvering but you did your best to make it quick, lifting up enough to get his dick lined up and your panties pushed far enough to the side to accommodate him. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as soon as your hand wrapped around him, and there was something deliciously dirty about the fact that the first thing that felt how wet you were was the head of his dick.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” he groaned as you started to sink down onto him. You didn’t bother with trying to get to your feet - the heels probably would have made it impossible anyways. You knew he liked having you pressed up against him in any way that he could, especially like this. So you stayed down, knees digging into the mattress as you braced your hands on his chest for a moment, sinking down until you could feel his balls against your ass.

And then, you were moving. Grinding, bouncing, figure 8′s above him as you tried to get him to the edge as fast as you could, watching his face as you moved, the way his eyes would scrunch up for a moment before his mouth fell open and his whole torso arched and squirmed under your hands.

“Jesus you’re gonna make me cum, fuck baby, fuck yeah,” he could barely get enough breath in to speak, his hands uselessly grabbing at your moving hips, garters tickling against his forearms as his fingers found the flesh between the belt and your thong. 

To your surprise, your rapid pace was doing the trick for you too, though that was your last priority. It might have had more to do with the fact that your boyfriend was a mumbling mess below you after about 30 seconds, but either way, you felt that tightening in your tummy, the moment of numbness that you knew would break into something overwhelming

“Don’t stop, please fuck don’t stop,” he whined, urging you forward as you folded forward against him, let him wrap his arms around you as you bounced on him, slick sounds and heavy breathing filling the room until he was squeezing you, so tight it almost hurt, the same way your walls were squeezing him. And that was his downfall - a minute in and he was undone, shooting inside of you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. 

You came down together, with you sliding up just far enough to kiss him, breathy and messy as you tried to recover, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of you.

“Holy shit. What was that, like a minute?” 

“I’d say 45 seconds... 50 if I’m being generous,” you teased, smiling at the feeling of his chest moving as he laughed. 

“Whatever, I don’t give a fuck if you’ll ride me like that every time,” he said, shaking his head up at the ceiling. 

“You didn’t tear any fabric, I’m proud of you,” you giggled. 

“Couldn’t. Want you to wear this thing every fuckin’ day.”

“Doubtful, I don’t have enough time to get in and out of this shit. Actually, I don’t even know how to get outta this thing,” you admitted with a laugh.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, I’ll help.” 

You were right back to your casual selves as soon as he sat you down on your feet in the bathroom, both working in tandem and laughing as the other struggled to loosen the straps and finally get you out of the contraption. The heels were the best part, with you bracing against his shoulder while he fiddled with the tiny straps.

And when you were freshly showered and clad in one of his big t-shirts, it was obvious that he’d softened up just as much as you had, especially with the blue lights illuminating the room.

“You know, you’re just as sexy like this,” he hummed, rolling over to get closer you, pulling you against him before sneaking a hand under your shirt to cup one of your boobs.

“Right,” you laughed, shaking your head. 

“i’m serious. I’ve got a thing for you in my shirts.”

“I wear your shirts all the time,” you countered.

“And?”

You just rolled your eyes and blushed, making a bit of a mental note to raid his wardrobe even more often than you already did. 

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“I think I should be thanking you, but you’re welcome baby,” he smiled at you, moving his hand from your shirt to run along your cheek. You replayed the night in your head while you looked at him. 

“What?”

“50 seconds huh. Is it like that every time? Like obviously you don’t actually cum that quick every time, but like... could you?”

Now, it was his turn to get embarrassed. He rolled over, practically on top of you as he buried his face in your neck.

“Maybe,” he muttered, making you laugh as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Bubs, really?”

“Like I said, you don’t make my job very easy.”

[jean-kayak]

Chapter 3

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: smut (18+!!), Eren is once again a HUGE fucking tease, male masturbation, voyeurism

A/N: Not smut, smut yet, but I hope it's just as good lmao

Word Count: 2016

Tags: @her-majesty-kiara, @germfart3, @styxtm, @iwascrybaby, @bigdaddyzawa​ ​

Chapter Summary: He’s making it harder and harder for you to keep your resolve up

You're listening to music while your favorite show plays along with it as you clean your room, going through clothes you don't wear, need, or can't fit anymore. "Yeah?" you call when you hear a knock on your door, assuming it's your mom, and you stop when you see that it's Eren.

You look away from him quickly before you finish hooking your shirt on the hanger, burying yourself with hanging in on the rack as you hear his footsteps trail further into your room.

You look over your shoulder to see that he's sitting on your bed, his back resting against the headboard, and too many fantasies of yours come rushing in, and you look away, finding more things to hang up. "How was college?" he asks, and you involuntarily scoff. This again?

"Good."

"Come on. I need more than 'good.' You're not going to tell me anything else?" You sigh as you look at him, and you raise an eyebrow at him before shrugging.

"It was good for my first couple of years of college, I guess. Classes weren't too difficult," you admit, and he nods before resting his hands behind his head.

"You still majoring in interior design?" And you want to punch him because he still remembers.

"Yeah, I am. I've been working on some designs, but they're pretty awful," you scoff, internally cringing at some of the things you've come up with.

"Can I see?" he asks, and you give him a look. "Please?" he adds when he sees that you're about to decline, and you sigh before walking to the other side of your bed, pulling your laptop into your lap as you pull up the designs. You can see him watching you out of the corner of your eye, but you pay it no mind, finding the designs before sliding him the laptop and going back to what you were doing.

You feel a little anxious that he's looking at what you've worked on, really only showing Jean and your parents, and the anticipation is killing you, but you try to distract yourself as you wait for his reaction.

"These are really good," he says, and you try to fight the smile that comes onto your face as you shake your head.

"No, more like awful," you chastise.

"Seriously. You're really talented." You purse your lips at the compliment, feeling your face grow warm as you turn to look at him.

"Thanks." You fiddle with the clothing in your hand before tossing it into the give-away pile you started before moving onto something else. You start working on your dresser when you hear typing, and your head snaps towards him. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't look up from the screen as he shakes his head. "Nothing." He moves the laptop from your view when you try to see what he's doing, and you squint your eyes at him. "Don't worry. I'm not messing anything up." You don't trust him, but he doesn't move until you start to back away, and you watch as he resumes typing.

He's been typing for five minutes and it's starting to drive you crazy. "Are you typing your life story over there or something?" you try, and he chuckles but doesn't look up.

"Something like that." You watch as he puts a few more sentences in before closing the laptop and putting it to the side. He just shrugs when you raise your eyebrows at him, and you go back to cleaning off your dresser.

You both talk the entire time it takes you to clean your room, and you can't help but admit that it feels nice. You can't remember or rather don't like to think the last time you've really talked to him like this, and a small part of you realizes that you missed it.

He decides to leave when you're done cleaning, and you walk him to the door, and he talks to your mom for a bit before he heads out the door. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" And this is the first time you've truly heard him being sincere. You nod your head and he smiles at you before walking out the door.

"He's gotten pretty cute, hasn't he?" your mom asks, and you roll your eyes.

"God, Mom, can you not? Jeez," you tell her as she laughs at your reaction.

Your mom for whatever reason took a liking to Eren while your dad on the other hand was a little bit hesitant, and Eren's come a long way in his relationship with your dad.

"Oh, I'm about to throw a load in the wash if you want to put anything in there," you tell her before walking back to your room. You push over the different piles of clothes that are no longer going to be yours when your eyes land on your laptop.

You look at it, and curiosity gets the best of you as you hop onto your bed, opening up the device. Your face falls when you see what he was writing. A list of what he wanted to do to you, and what he was going to do to you. There are nearly three pages, some things on the list going into explicit detail, and you feel like you shouldn't be reading this.

You softly rub your thighs together as you read through the list, and your phone buzzes beside you. You can barely take your eyes off the screen, peeling them away to look at the smaller screen in your hand.

We can start on the list today

Just say the word princess

You reluctantly come back to Jean's house, mostly in fear that the next time you see Eren, you'll definitely give in to him. Jean tells you that he's out somewhere and that he probably won't be back for a few hours, so you end up spending most of that time in his room. "I think it looks good," you tell him as you look over his outfit.

He turns around in the mirror in his closet to look at himself with a look of uncertainty. "You think so? You don't think it's too much?"

You chuckle at his nervousness. "Did he tell you it was a date?" you ask, and he drops his head a little before shrugging.

"No," he responds quietly.

"Then what are you worried about?" He checks his outfit again, and you sigh as you tilt your head. "Do you want it to be a date?"

He sputters over his words, his face flushing red as he struggles to come up with a response. You watch him fondly as you shake your head. It's been a while since you've seen him this flustered. "I think that you're overthinking it. You can't rush this stuff, you just have to let it happen."

"I know, but what if I'm thinking he likes me one way when he doesn't. I don't want to try to push something that won't budge."

You stand, walking towards him as you nod. "Yeah, that's understandable, but I seriously don't think that's the case. And I wouldn't lie to you, not about this," you tell him sincerely, and he nods before turning to the mirror again. "You wanna change the outfit again, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think the next one will be the last." You scoff as you roll your eyes, but make your way out of his room to let him get changed. You close the door behind you, standing outside his door waiting for him to call you back in, and you hear some shuffling coming from Eren's room.

You frown deeply, vividly remembering Jean telling you that Eren wasn't here. You assume that you just heard something, but you freeze when you hear moaning. Your face heats up when you think he has a girl in his room, but you really can't move when you hear your name.

You look at the door before stepping closer, seeing that it's cracked, and you carefully put your ear to the door. This is a bad idea, you shouldn't be doing this. You should find something else to do, but your feet are rooted to the ground.

When you step closer, you can see his reflection in the mirror that's facing the bed, and your mouth drops open at the sight as heat pools to your lower region. Eren's on his back, a pink blush spread on his face down to his chest, and you can see his biceps flexing with movement, and you take a step closer, and you barely muffle the gasp that slips out.

His hand is pumping his length slowly, the tip an angry red, and you watch as he throws his head back, releasing another moan that has you squeezing your legs together. You hear him moan your name louder this time as he speeds up his strokes, and you can't look away, your panties starting to stick to your folds, and you can barely fight to urge to touch yourself right there in the middle of the fucking hallway.

You want to push the door open and do it for him, you want to see if you can get him to make any more of those sounds that threatens to be your undoing. Or rather, you want him inside of you instead of his hand. "Shit, you feel so good," he groans softly, and you dig your nails into your palms, wishing you could do something, anything than just stand with your feet glued to the ground.

And it takes too long to realize that he's thinking about you while he touches himself, and that triggers another round of slick, and the heartbeat down there feels so strong that it almost makes you reveal yourself. You're practically panting now, your mouth watering as you watch him bring himself closer to his release, the noises he's making getting louder with every stroke.

And you watch his stomach tense as he cums with your name on his lips, shooting his seed on his stomach and his hand. You finally snap yourself out of it, getting ready to move when he turns his head to the mirror, looking you dead in the eyes, and he smirks before winking at you.

Your eyes widen as you quickly turn your back towards the door, embarrassment and horror flooding into your system as you take a step away from the door. He knew you were there? There's no fucking way.

You jump in surprise when Jean's door opens, and he looks both ways, holding his hands out when he sees you. "How do I look?" he asks you nervously, and you clear your throat trying to act like you didn't just watch his step-brother jerk off to you.

"He's gonna fall over when he sees you," you respond even though your body is screaming for any kind of release. Jean smiles softly, too wrapped up in his nerves to notice how yours are standing on end.

His phone dings in his pocket, and he takes a deep breath once he reads the message, looking back at you. "He's here," he tells you, and you give him a thumbs up.

"Okay, well, go. Stop standing here talking to me," you tell him, excitement for him in your voice, and he gives you another nod before he's running down the stairs.

You take a deep breath, releasing a shaky sigh, the throbbing between your legs nowhere near subsiding, and it isn't until you do something about it. The door next to you swings open, and you jolt back against the wall across from it as Eren comes into view, luckily wearing shorts. "What're you doing?" he asks you casually like he didn't just catch you watching him.

"I was, uh," you swallow thickly. "I was helping Jean with his outfit," you respond, your voice barely audible.

He nods before he steps towards you. "Next time you could help me out," he whispers, and then he's walking down the hallway, disappearing into the bathroom.

|Chapter 2|Masterlist|Chapter 4|

Taglist: CLOSED