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lucysarah-c · 6 months ago

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Part 3 of Levi's horrible flirting skills.

Masterlist link to all the previous parts.

‘It can’t be that hard, it can’t be that hard... just go and talk, talk confidently and all cocky like you do to MPs. Just-!’

“Hello, Captain.” She bent to her side as she looked into his eyes, her hair falling flawlessly following the tilt of her head.

Levi sat down in the hallway, stood still for a second as suddenly her face appeared in his view. “Hello.”

‘No. That’s not it, ask her back-’

“Is Erwin busy?” She smiled softly.

“In a meeting with the higher ranks,” Levi quickly answered as if it were an exam question, he had memorized. He had been waiting outside for the blond to be done, easily ten minutes already.

A subtle hum of approval, she straightened up and said, “Oh well, I won’t bother you any further. Have a nice day.”

Levi’s lips parted but before he could come up with a possible idea, she had already made it halfway through the corridor and was now talking to another friend. Lips pressed together, he looked at the pattern of the marble floors, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time.

“... fuck me,”

“A friend is asking you for a favor, how mean can you be?”

“My FRIEND has guts enough to insult the commander of the Military Police to his face who is ALSO my friend. He needs to use the same guts to ask her out on his own,” Erwin argued back as they were taking a break from a meeting in his office. “I already told him; I’m not going to get involved. Y/N is like a little sister; I’ve known her since she had baby fat on her cheeks -”

“It’s not like I’m planning on hurting her!” Levi defended himself as if Erwin were accusing him of the worst.

“No, but I know what kind of stuff you’re into and I prefer not to encourage it... especially with Y/N.” Erwin shook his head slightly as if the mental image was too much to bear, “If she’s into that kind of stuff, fine, but I prefer not to be the one who encourages it for the sake of my mental peace.”

“You turned out to be so prudish,” Hange said between chuckles, “You’re such a baaaad friend.”

Erwin dedicated a general unhappy grimace and said, “He is already Humanity’s strongest soldier. If that title doesn’t land him a girl, then it’s not my fault he can’t get her.”

“It’s different, in the underground I didn’t have to talk... usually they were the ones who did the talking,” Levi said, slightly defeated. Life was easier when the other person was the one winning his attention.

“Aww, shorty. If it makes you feel better, I’m rooting for you!” Hange said, throwing one arm over the Captain’s shoulder and pushing him closer.

Frowning deeply, Levi clicked his tongue. “You’re rooting for me, or you are enjoying seeing me fail?”

The brunette balanced with both of their hands, silently implying “A little bit of this, a little bit of that.”

Package playing on his fingers, they were usually given snacks during meetings. The red cover shined under the light. Levi looked to his right side where she was waiting. The rebellious baby hairs on the side of her ears glittered under the light as the paper of the chocolate did in Levi’s hands.

Without saying a word, Levi’s right hand moved slightly in her direction and made the offer. His gray eyes looked deeply into her side profile until she noticed the attention. First, she looked at him and then down at his gift.

Subtle smile, “Thank you, but I’m allergic to nuts,” she quickly said before returning to look in the other direction as the chocolate returned to be held by both of his hands.

‘... I can’t be this fucking unfortunate.’

The reddish tint spread over her lips, gliding. Making it even by pressing her lips together and making little popping sounds, then her fingers took off the excess and tapped it on her cheeks. While she admired her reflection in the tiny mirror, Levi had his attention fixed on her shiny lips.

Subtle color made them look plumper or blushed and the shine only added to it. Levi had to remind himself to breathe and that he was in public because his mind began to delve into forbidden territory. Imagine her lips parted, looking at him, red lips matching her cheeks after he pried her mouth open, sucking her breath. What it would feel like to grip her neck and hold the bottom of her jaw to push her closer only to then tug the back of her hair.

“You think it looks too much?” she asked him. Levi felt as if he had been caught red-handed.

“Ehm-” he stuttered slightly as the head over his shoulder reclaimed the power of rationality, “No?”

She looked breathtaking, the white of the uniform mixing perfectly with the subtle crimson. Levi cursed under his breath as she simply did a side smile, almost forced, then went back to look at her reflection doubtfully.

“Sometimes I feel I should add something to look less plain,” she commented.

‘Say something, motherfucker!’ Levi’s mind called out the one supposedly in charge of social interaction.

“Some people are into that.”

‘I’m into that, I will gladly show you how much I’m into it. It would be my pleasure.’

A sarcastic scoff left her nose and a sort of defeated grimace, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

‘No no, wait. I meant it nicely, why the hell are you looking so sad?’

“There’re a lot of people with bad taste,” she added half as a joke and half as a bittersweet reality.

“SoMe PEoplE ArE inTo ThAt,” Levi made fun of his own voice as his forehead slapped against the cold harsh surface of his desk, “WHO the HELL says that?”

If pain was the best discipline, then perhaps hitting his own head against the table would knock some sense into him, “I could have said, ‘You look good. That color suits you.’ NO! I had to say the most shitty, stupid shit that humankind had ever fucking seen.”

“Either my mother dropped me as a baby because she was tired or Kenny’s kick actually damaged my brain because otherwise there’s no explanation,” Levi muttered as his forehead remained against his desk, dark locks spreading around against the surface.

A subtle knock on the door made him raise his face slightly and say, “Name and business.”

Eld walked in after he was allowed inside. Delivering more work but the presence of the ashy blond snapped some sense into Levi.

‘I’ve been asking two idiots who don’t get laid even in their wildest dreams. That’s the issue.’

“Eld, your fiancée. How is she doing?” Levi asked out of nowhere, surprising his subordinate.

The scout raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, but quickly concluded that it was because he had recently mentioned that they were looking for a kid. “She’s doing good! We went to her parents’ house the other day, sir.”

Levi didn’t know how to bring up the conversation on his own, so luckily Eld did it for him. “We had a blast because we passed by a house with a nice garden, and I told her that the first time I went to ask her out at her father’s shop, I was just a cadet and didn’t have any money. I cut some flowers from that house for her, and the old woman there almost hit me with her broom.”

‘Flowers, of course. How could I be that stupid?’ was all that Levi paid attention to. ‘What do women like? Cute shit. Like... flowers and... cats. Right?’

‘But I can’t just pop up with a bunch of fucking flowers; she’s going to think I’m a creep.’

Levi groaned uneasily as one step forward felt like two steps back. Did he have to talk himself into it for weeks? Yes. Was he confident about his decision? No. Did he feel like an idiot picking up a couple of flowers that only grew outside the walls during an expedition? Yes, but who the hell would dare to make fun of humanity’s strongest soldier?

Not many of those he picked up made it back to the walls in one piece, so it felt pathetically sad how only one tiny one survived for him to press dry between a couple of heavy books.

“I can’t give her this shit... dried-up grass has more presence than this,” Levi muttered, feeling the exhaustion of his body after an expedition, feeling his hopes drain and mix with the sadness of the lost members.

So, the single purplish flower remained in his notebook pocket, forgotten but also a permanent reminder each time he opened it.

“That’s so pretty,” her voice echoed as a distant dream that made Levi look up. He was visiting some of his injured soldiers, sitting next to them as he kept them company. His eyes followed where she was looking, and it was his open notebook with the flower serving as a bookmark.

She seemed to be on duty as she moved around the patients to check on their condition. “You should go and rest, Captain. You seem too tired,” she casually said.

But Levi remained with his eyes on the flower, then he looked at her, who had heavy dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion. He could feel the blood rushing, but he hoped his stoic face would hide it. With all the courage he managed to gather, “Here, have it,” he said.

Y/N looked back at him, confused. “No no, it’s yours, Captain.”

“Tch,” Levi clicked his tongue, “No, have it.”

The surprise on her face slowly but surely changed into a subtle smile as her cheeks tinted red. “Oh my... why, thank you,” she said, taking it delicately and admiring it.

Levi nodded a bit. ‘Do not say anything, you’ll fuck it up,’ he thought, scratching the back of his undercut.

“Thank you, it will keep me company during study nights.”

‘Holy shit... she’s fucking gorgeous,’ Levi felt his breath being taken away as she smiled tenderly at him. He felt as if the gates of heaven had opened in front of him and the light from the window behind her was the choir of angels.

But quickly he realized he was in the middle of a hospital with a rainy day outside. “It will keep me company with my babies.”

“Babies?” Levi felt as if he had been thrown a bucket of cold water, and before he noticed, he had said that out loud.

“Oh yes! My babies!” she assured enthusiastically. “I’ve got one boy and two girls. They are the apple of my eyes, a blessing.”

‘Three? I mean... I like kids, but three already. If I want to have kids with her too, there would be too fucking many. My salary isn’t that good,’ Levi’s mind began to panic as if the idea of them having a family was a near future. ‘No no, let’s not be assholes. She’s being a good mother; let’s stand up as a man and-’

“Sometimes when I’m studying, I can only hear the clock and their purring-”

Levi’s mind did a dead stop, raising an eyebrow as a silent question.

“Purring? You know, cats purr.”

He felt as if his soul came back to his body. “Ah, you mean cats.”

“Well, yes! What did you think they were?” she said between chuckles, joking around.

“Kids?” he said without giving it much thought. An uncomfortable silence arose quickly as she looked back at him, confused, then blushed heavily.

“Captain!” she called him out as if the idea were ridiculous. “Please, don’t make me laugh. I’ve no prospect of it whatsoever. I’m happy with my cats.”

“The only shit I heard from all that was, ‘I’m single and there’s no other asshole in the picture,’” Levi said, sitting down in his desk chair, softly spinning to the sides. Resting on the chenille red back of the chair, arms folded, he looked at the ceiling with a subtle smirk on his face. He was in the same delusional happy trance he had been in the night he met her.

“Yeah,” Hange replied, but quickly added, “But it could also mean she’s happily single and she’s not interested in a relationship.”

Levi stopped moving his chair and turned his attention to the brunette. “If you’re looking forward to me feeding you to a titan in the next expedition, just say it, but don’t ruin my day.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

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littlexdeaths · 2 months ago

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eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: some bullying, little sprinkle of hurt/comfort, lots more smooching, underage drinking/partying, so so so much cuteness

part three | part five

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4k

a/n: a shoutout to both @rebelfell for gifting me eddie’s costume idea and @thepurplelovewitch for shy girls! and the biggest kudos to @undead-supernova for looking this over and always encouraging/helping me to improve. <3

“Nance, if you think I’m wearing that, you’ve lost your damn mind,” you mutter with utmost distaste.

The brunette peeks her head around the package she’s holding to give you a small pout, the other hand resting on her hip.

“Oh come on, live a little!” She sighs, putting the sexy nurse costume back onto the rack. “There is no way I am letting you sulk on your couch again this year.”

You roll your eyes but continue browsing the costumes, each one more revealing than the last. You didn’t mind spending your Halloween night curled up on the sofa with a scary movie, you were more comfortable that way.

Besides you weren’t normally invited to such gatherings, even if you did want to go. Tina only seemed to invite you out of obligation, not because she wanted you there.

“Well…maybe I won’t be spending it alone,” you mumble and her brow quirks up.

“Oh, are you and Eddie doing something?” she prods.

But your shoulders sag a little, unable to hide your disappointment when you shake your head.

“I mean, he hasn’t asked me…yet.”

You continue to flick through the costumes, now too consumed in your own thoughts.

It has been a week since he kissed you on the football field—and it’s still the only thing you can think about.

The warm press of his mouth against yours, breathes mingling together in the chill autumn air. The way his strong hands encircled your waist, brushing up against the cool skin of your cheek. The memory sends a delightful shiver down your spine, despite the suffocating warmth of the small costume shop.

“Okay,” Nancy says with finality, abruptly interrupting your daydream. She nods her head in satisfaction. “Okay, this is the one!”

She thrusts a costume into your awaiting arms. Once you catch a glimpse of it, you blanch before immediately shaking your head and giving it back.

“And you’re actually insane, Nance.”

She rolls her eyes, but shoves it back into your arms anyway.

“Oh, come on, isn’t the whole point of Halloween to dress up? Go outside your comfort zone?”

You glance down from her encouraging gaze to the costume in your hands. A woman with flowing blonde hair is smiling back at you, a black and white corset hugging her curves in all the right places.

But it’s the pair of bunny ears perched atop her head and the white cotton tail attached to the backside of the costume that somehow makes you feel more insecure.

“I am not dressing up as a pornstar—”

Nancy all but slaps a hand over your mouth to stop your hysterical shriek. A mother with her young son gives you both a distasteful look as they pass, the tips of your ears warming in embarrassment as you tuck the costume behind your back.

“It’s not a pornstar costume,” she quips with a lowered voice. “It’s a Playboy Bunny.”

You give her a look, blowing out an exasperated breath.

“As if they aren’t the same thing?”

By some miracle you manage to walk out of that shop a half hour later. Nancy’s promise of burgers and milkshakes fuel your last minute costume decision. But as you both descend onto Main Street, leaves crunching beneath your boots, you can’t help but feel like everyone is staring at you.

It’s as if they can see that damned bunny costume hidden beneath the dark plastic bag, the contents weighing you down with each step you take towards Nancy’s station wagon.

Twenty minutes.

It’s been twenty minutes since he’s been kept waiting, and Eddie’s patience is finally beginning to run out. But the snap of a branch catches his attention, eyes darting to the trees ahead.

Eddie is more than confused when he realizes the regular he was supposed to be meeting had bailed on him. And the person that emerges from the line of trees is none other than Nancy Wheeler.

He quickly shuts the metal lunchbox as she approaches, taking a seat on the bench opposite of him, determination clear on her features.

“Uh…are you lost, Wheeler?”

“No,” she states flatly, swinging the other leg over the bench seat. “You’re just the guy I’ve been looking for.”

He scratches at the stubble on his jaw, fingers tapping against the worn wood of the table. Eddie has seen a lot of odd things in his twenty years of life, but Nancy Wheeler making a drug deal was not something he ever expected.

He glances at her warily when she folds her hands on the table, looking far too prim and proper to be sitting out here with him and his lunchbox full of weed.

“Well, how can I be of service then, Wheeler?” he tilts his head towards the metal box, but she holds his gaze regardless.

“I have a proposition for you.”

He can’t help but snort, already beginning to shake his head.

“Okay, I don’t know what rumors you've heard Wheeler, but the only type of payment I accept is cold hard cash.”

And from the look of almost horror that crosses over her features, he instantly realizes he’s misread this entire situation.

“Oh god, I’m not here for a drug deal, Munson!”

It’s silent for a beat, neither of them daring to look at the other out of sheer embarrassment.

“So, why are you here, Nancy?” he asks quietly.

Her eyes flick up to look at him again, noting the splotches of pink rising up the skin of his neck.

“Tina’s party on Friday,” she starts, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

His shoulders sag a little at her answer, arching a brow in her direction. He only can assume someone put her up to this, one of her more popular friends not wanting to be caught dead with the likes of him. Well, unless they need someone to supply the weed.

Nonetheless, a part of him can’t help but admit he’s a little intrigued.

“What about it?”

Nancy flashes him a look before continuing.

“There’s a certain someone that’s going to be in attendance…” she trails, biting back a smile when he instantly perks up. “And I think she would really want you to be there.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush a rosy pink, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. While he had thought about going to try and make some extra cash, he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea.

A costume party filled with a bunch of drunken idiots that hated his guts sounded like a goddamn nightmare. But knowing that you were going to be there? Well, that changed things drastically.

“I’ll be there,” he asserts.

Nancy is a little taken aback but happily surprised by his quick response. In her own way this was also a small test. A test to see if Eddie really liked you as much as you claimed he did. And she had gotten her answer.

“Well, great!” she says, flashing him a polite smile and rising to her feet. “Be there by 10 o’clock sharp, and don’t forget to wear a costume!”

Eddie doesn't have a chance to reply before Nancy turns on her heel and disappears back through the trees.

Friday has finally come.

And your stomach twists with every step you take toward the large house, the click of your heels on the sidewalk a far more steady rhythm than the beat of your own heart. Parties had never really been your thing and the only other one you’d managed to get invited to was at Steve’s house, back when he and Nancy were still together.

So it was no surprise that you felt completely out of your element as you continued to strode up the darkened walkway. You can feel the bass pumping inside you before you even cross the threshold, wringing your hands together in a nervous manner.

The air is thick with the smell of smoke and cheap beer, throngs of your peers in scantily clad costumes stumbling past you to the makeshift dance floor. No one spares you a passing glance as you take a step deeper into the hazy room, your own eyes seeking out your best friend.

Her pale pink dress was surprisingly difficult to spot amongst the crowd, but it was Jonathan who you ended up spotting first. He looked out of place amongst the dancing teens, a dark blue suit hugging his shoulders as he leaned against the far wall of the living room. A pair of round sunglasses shielding his eyes.

The Duckie to her Andie.

Relief floods your chest as you begin to push through the crowd, the pounding bass echoing in your ears. Nancy looks surprised when she finally spots you, passing her drink to Jonathan before pulling you aside.

“Where’s the bunny costume?!” she shouts over the music, tugging at the sleeve of your cardigan.

“I couldn’t do it Nance,” you reply, wrapping your arms further around your middle. “It just wasn’t…me.”

And while you can see the clear disappointment written on her features, there’s a sparkle of understanding in her eyes.

“Well, if you’re going to be a,” she pauses to look over your ensemble in its entirety. “…librarian,” she continues, “You at least need to be a sexy one.”

And without another word she’s pulling you into the nearest bathroom. When the door clicks shut behind her, she immediately gets to work. She reaches to untuck your button down shirt from your pleated skirt, popping open the buttons one by one to reveal the swell of your breasts.

You earn a small nod of approval when she sees you actually wore the push-up bra you had bought for your original costume. The brunette gives the lower half of your shirt the same treatment before tying it off with a knot right above your navel.

Lastly, Nancy hikes your skirt up a little higher up your hips and takes a step back to admire her handiwork.

“Perfection. There’s no way Eddie’s gonna be able to resist you like this.” She grins and you feel your palms begin to sweat.

“What do you mean? Eddie’s here?!”

Suddenly it all clicks into place.

The real reason for why both her and Eddie were missing at lunch last Wednesday. Before you have a chance to question her any further, she’s fled the bathroom, her curly bob disappearing in the sea of drunken teens.

Damn her.

You take one last look in the mirror, fighting the urge to pull your cardigan tighter over your newly exposed skin when you rejoin the party. Your eyes scan the entirety of the room, in search of that tall lanky figure you’ve come to know all too well.

To your dismay, Eddie is nowhere to be found. While you knew he wouldn’t be amongst the groups of people grinding against each other in the living room, you had expected him to be tucked in a corner somewhere—observing.

You find yourself searching almost every inch of Tina’s large home and backyard, desperate to catch even a glimpse of him. And, unfortunately for you, instead of finding Eddie, you stumbled upon a couple getting hot and heavy in her parents bedroom. To which you quickly slammed the door shut and tried to scrub the image from your memory.

You take those stairs back down to the main level slowly, disappointment weighing each of your steps. There was only one place you haven’t checked yet: the kitchen. And with your terrible success rate, a drink sounds too appealing to pass up.

But once you cross through that open doorway, you stop dead in your tracks. Because there he is, in all his handsome glory—casually leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest, a drink long abandoned next to him.

Has he been here this whole time?

While his expression borders on cynical, all of that shifts once your eyes meet. Eddie’s throat bobs, jaw slackening once you come into view. The set of plastic vampire fangs sitting between his teeth fall to the sticky tile floor with a soft clack.

He has to practically wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth as you approach, straightening up and trying to look at anywhere other than the swell of your breasts.

“Hi,” you breathe softly.

But his answering smile has your knees about to buckle beneath you.

“Hello to you, sweetheart.”

Only then do your eyes flick downward, towards the t-shirt adorning his broad chest. And you let out a soft snort of amusement.

This is my Halloween costume is written in dark Sharpie against the bright orange cotton. The words are slanted and messy, as if he scribbled it on in a rush. It’s barely visible beneath the lapels of his leather jacket when he crosses his arm over his chest.

He quirks a brow at you. “What? Are you not impressed?” he muses with a teasing glint in his eye. “I thought it was quite clever, if I do say so myself.”

His smile widens at the soft giggles that bubble past your lips, leaning further back against the counter before motioning to your ensemble.

“And what exactly are you supposed to be then, hm?” He chuckles, as if it isn’t obvious.

But you feel your face warm, suddenly hyper aware of every inch of bare skin that’s now exposed to him when your hands fall to your sides.

“Uh… a librarian,” you reply, trying to muster up some feigned confidence.

Eddie’s eyes darken slightly as he takes in your bare midriff, tongue gliding over his lower lip in deep thought.

“So, I take it you’ve come to reprimand me for my overdue book fines?”

Feeling slightly emboldened, you take a small step closer, lightly nibbling on your lower lip to stifle another giggle.

“I mean, rumor has it you’ve had that copy of The Hobbit checked out since your junior year…” you trail off, carefully pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. “That’s an awful lot of fines, Eddie.”

“My sincerest apologies, Miss,” he grins before placing a hand over his chest, those dark eyes alight with mischief. “Is there anything I can do to remedy this…misunderstanding?”

You hum in contemplation, gently tapping a finger to your pouted lips—an action his eyes can’t help but follow.

“Hm, perhaps…” you say before glancing over your shoulder toward the crowded living room.

While dancing isn’t something you normally gravitate toward, something in you wants to try. Although it’s a silly high school milestone you never expected to experience, you don’t want it to pass you by either. Especially with Eddie by your side.

Maybe it’s the trickle of confidence that’s surging through your veins or the underlying adoration in his eyes, but either way, you reach out and lace your fingers together.

“Dance with me?”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate before he grasps onto your hand, a dimple indenting his cheek as he grins down at you.

“I’d be honored, sweetheart.”

It takes all of your self control to hold back a small squeal of excitement, quickly leading him out of the kitchen and towards the heart of the party. You’ve barely made it to the threshold before you feel it.

Warmth.

Wet, sticky warmth splashes up onto your neck, dribbles down your chin and onto your chest. Soaking into the white cotton of your shirt and sticking to your skin, the red punch does you no favors as the lace of your bra is revealed through the fabric.

“Oops,” a sickly sweet voice croons, but the unmistakable snark in their tone tells you this was anything but an accident.

Roxy Carraway just smirks at you, now glancing down at her empty cup with a mock pout. Two of her friends flank her on either side, keeping you frozen in place.

A gazelle caught between three lionesses, their claws sharpened and teeth bared.

“Now I need another drink,” she whines, snapping her gum obnoxiously. “You know, you really should watch where you’re going, freak.”

She hisses, taking one glance at you and then the male behind you before flipping her blonde hair off her shoulder and striding past you into the kitchen.

You don’t say anything as she knocks her shoulder into yours, white hot shame blazing through you as you meet the eyes of several other party goers. Whispers and snickers of laughter begin to flow through the crowd that were there to bear witness to the interaction.

No one offers you a shred of remorse or pity as they continue on, the thump of bass dragging their attention elsewhere. Tears began to sting your eyes, lower lip wobbling.

Don’t let them see you cry.

When you turn to rush toward the front door a pair of strong arms envelope you, tugging you down the darkened hallway and away from the throngs of your peers.

“Hey, hey—are you okay, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s voice is more gentle than you’ve ever heard it but a newfound rage begins to simmer beneath the warmth of his irises. When all he receives in response is a small shake of your head, he carefully tugs you both into the small bathroom you’d been shoved into earlier by Nancy.

Only this time any ounce of excitement has been drained from your limbs.

When your eyes meet your reflection, you wince, noting the harsh red liquid that clings to your shirt. The fabric suctions to you like a second skin and accentuates the curve of your breasts from the bra beneath. But not in a way that makes you feel a lick of confidence.

Before you can stare for too long, Eddie guides you to take a seat on the lid of the toilet, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it beneath the stream of water. His ringed fingers catch in the harsh lighting as he wrings the rag out into the basin of the sink. The droplets slide over the rough calluses of his fingers.

Eddie turns to you then, sinking to his knees before you. He gently nudges your thighs apart before slipping between them, the stray water droplets soaking into the fabric of your knee-high stockings. His hands are warm where they rest against your upper thigh, the other gently gliding the washcloth over your chin and down your throat.

Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, your breath hitches in your throat—something the male doesn’t miss.

While you can see the small smirk that threatens to tug at the corner of his mouth, he says nothing. No teasing comment as he continues to clean the dried punch from your skin.

“I’m sorry this happened,” he mutters softly, that small smile now turning downwards into a frown. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You can tell by the mournful look that spreads across his features that there’s more he wants to say, but he refrains.

That should’ve been me.

While the words remain unspoken between you, you hear them loud and clear.

“It’s not your fault you know,” you whisper, eyes dancing along the strong features of his face. Memorizing each freckle that dots along the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. “They probably would’ve found another way to torment me tonight anyway.”

His hand stills once he reaches the curve of your chest, eyes flicking up for your permission before he delves into uncharted territory. But you are unable to hide your shy smile at his display of nerves.

With your nod of approval, Eddie continues on, fingers trembling slightly when the cloth dips past the collar of your shirt. He can feel the heat of your skin through the damp fabric, his body aching to feel that warmth melting into his own.

But he keeps his composure, shifting slightly at the uncomfortable ache in his knees. You continue to watch him closely, that look of longing he’s witnessed for months now sparkling beneath your irises.

Your gaze continues to travel lower, over his cheekbones until they reach his full lips. They’re pursed in concentration, just the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth. He continues to glide the damp cloth along your skin, wiping away the sticky residue.

But Eddie can feel the weight of your stare. In a nervous yet teasing gesture, he glides his tongue over his lower lip.

“Would it be weird if I wanted you to kiss me right now?” you whisper.

Eddie’s eyes flick up to meet yours, fingers hovering over the dip between your breasts. He swallows harshly, your eyes following the bob of his throat. But the corner of his mouth quirks up into a soft grin that has your heart stuttering beneath your ribs.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replies, washcloth dropping to the tile floor as he reaches to cup your cheeks.

When your lips meet, you breathe out a sigh of relief, slipping your arms around his neck to tug him impossibly closer. Despite your newfound urgency, his movements are slow, gentle as he molds his mouth over yours. Almost as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of your lips against his own.

Your hands quickly find themselves in his wild hair, twirling the dark strands around the tips of your fingers. He groans softly when your nails scratch against his scalp, the deep rumble of it sends warmth blossoming beneath the surface of your skin.

And soon, too soon he’s pulling away.

The male is practically panting, gazing up at you with an almost dazed expression. But Eddie soon notes the small pout that’s beginning to form on your lips, leaning forward to press another tender kiss to your mouth.

“How about we ditch this lame ass party?” he mumbles against your lips, earning a small hum of approval from you.

And he can’t help but press another kiss to your awaiting mouth. “We could go to my place, maybe rent a video…” He chuckles when you pull him in for another firm kiss. “Order a pizza? Large pepperoni—”

“With olives,” you add, gently nipping his lower lip.

The male groans low in his throat, lips ghosting over the edge of your jaw.

“Half with olives,” he counters.

“Deal,” you breathe, giving him one more spine tingling kiss before he begrudgingly rises to his feet.

And when he begins to slip his jacket off his shoulders, your brows furrow in confusion, head tilting in a silent question. He just gives you a cheeky grin as he reaches to hook his fingers into the nape of his t-shirt. The male quickly pulls it over his head, his bare chest now on full display.

Before you have time to fully ogle the dark ink that swirls across his skin, he hands you the bright orange shirt. You can already feel the warmth of the fabric seeping into the palm of your hands, confusion still evident on your face whilst he shrugs the jacket back on.

“There’s no way I’m letting those assholes get the last laugh, sweetheart,” he explains, motioning to your stained shirt.

And your heart thuds at the implication, a half smile tugging at your lips. You eagerly slip the cardigan off your shoulders, reaching for the buttons on your blouse. You let out a soft giggle when Eddie quickly spins on his heel in an attempt to give you some privacy.

Once you remove the ruined blouse, you gladly toss it in the wastebasket, slipping the borrowed shirt over your head. His scent hits you like a tidal wave, warm and spicy with a slight undertone of weed. It’s a smell you want to wrap yourself up in for days, have it imprinted on your skin forever.

You take another subtle whiff before you clear your throat and rise to your feet. The movement further closes the already short distance between you.

“I’m decent,” you say finally.

You’re unable to hide your amusement when he turns around so quickly that he almost crashes straight into you. But his look of concern vanishes the moment your laughter rings in his ears, securing his arms around your waist.

“What’s so funny, sweet thing?” he chuckles, head tilting down toward you. His wandering gaze now focused on your lips.

“I thought you said we had to stop meeting like this, Eddie.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @josephquinnsfreckles

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: let’s go- don’t wait 🫧#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x shy!reader

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user211201 · 3 months ago

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Born to be a father

--- Originally posted on 2024-07-10 by breedertfs ---

--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---

I'm a gay man in my early 20's. I know I'm young but I keep having these thoughts.....or this desperate need to be a father. I don't understand where it's coming from.

That's your body telling you how things are gonna be now, bro. This is your new normal.

It's in your muscle memory - even if you claim to have never wanted to be a breeder before now. This urge to spread your seed has been lying dormant in your DNA, just waiting for your desires to waken inside your throbbing cock and for the hunger for wet pussy to cloud your rational mind. Don't you love the way I talk about women and their bodies? The way the men in my stories just can't help but to suck on a pair of fat, bouncing tits? How their thick, slobby tongues want nothing more than to slide between some wet, slick pussy lips?

Imagine the squelch, the squirt, the sound of her high pitched moaning. The way her eyelids will flutter when you unleash your hot, thick load inside her.

You're rock hard, bro. Don't deny it. Your hips buck with pleasure, your package feels so fat and hot, your wide cock head rubbing the fabric of your underwear with each needy thrust you make. The young gay man who made his home inside your mind finds himself surrounded by a sudden harem of hot women, blondes and redheads and brunettes, all with their huge breasts exposed and their greedy fingers between their juicy thighs. This makes you moan in the outside world, your boner raging as you continue to gyrate, your work pants growing taut around your much stronger, hairier legs.

"Yeah, you like that, bitch?" an unfamiliar voice speaks from your lips, bristles of dark hair framing your strengthening jaw. Your hands grow larger and callused, reaching out in front of you and gripping around the waist of an imaginary slut. Your eyes turn dark and brooding, your once youthful face growing older and more grizzled. The strange voice continues to deepen and shift as you moan, your arms growing thick with muscle as your larger fingers pretend to reach towards a pair of jiggling tits. You swear you've never touched a set of breasts before, but your new body can conjure the feeling so easily, as if you were just squeezing a pair the very night before. Perky nipples under your fingertips, jiggling flesh in your palms. It's so natural. "Fuck. Tell Daddy what a needy whore you are."

Your once trendy hair pulls back into your scalp and darkens, becoming a close cropped masculine hairstyle. Your work clothes become more professional, colorful pastel shirt becoming a simple short sleeved blue button up, your khakis fading into simple denim. You're a straight man, after all. You don't feel the need to dress up or stand out. You just feel the need to push your cock into a wide open cunt, to feel the pussy juice accepting your shaft and allowing your nine inches to slide right in. Your nuts swell inside your underwear, full of virile seed that desperately wants to be fired into a waiting womb. You moan again, drool sliding down your stubbled chin, your expression taken over by primal lust.

The former you is still trapped inside his mind, staring at the group of women that have him cornered. To his horror, he watches as the moaning bimbos begin to cry out louder, reaching their soft hands up to grab their breasts as each of their tits begin to swell with milk. The old you watches in horror and amazement, all these big boobed beauties suddenly taking it to a new level, but your awe settles into shocked terror as suddenly all of the women begin to reach down to their stomachs, which begin to rapidly inflate as pussy juice squirts and runs down their trembling legs. In a matter of seconds, your fading former self is trapped with a harem of pregnant women. Everywhere you look is a wet cunt, a fat tit dribbling milk, a pair of kissable lips sighing a moan.

The old you doesn't stand a chance inside the mind of a breeder. He begins to shake, his image blurring and beginning to fade, all of his youth and former goals burning away to make room for the superior man who has made your body his home. Inside and out. This is you. The women in your mind are just memories of former and future conquests alike, an endless sea of women that will swell with your seed and raise your children. Nothing turns you on more than this. You have found your purpose in life.

And there's no shame in that. You want to be a father because you were quite literally born to be a father. And now, my dear friend, your new body is going to make sure you have no choice but to be fruitful and multiply.

Better clock in those hours at your new office job. You're gonna have a lot of hungry mouths to feed - and no shortage of women to impregnate.

#breedertfs #reality shift #mental tf #male tf #reality change #gay to straight

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diettwistup · 7 months ago

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HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 3.9K

NOTES: hey y’all!!! so excited to be posting the first chapter of this story. manifesting my edits are all good LOL. enjoy! 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTIONS AND EMBARRASSMENTS

US OPEN TOURNAMENT- 2006, 2:00 PM

Sitting down on the hot bleachers, I put my sunglasses on and adjusted the braids in my hair. Sucking on my teeth and brushing my fingers across the hem of my uniform skirt, I let my eyes gaze at the large crowd of people accumulating.

Damn Tashi, you always know how to make a bang.

Crossing my arms and softly laughing, I let my mind wander back to my match yesterday.

I had lost to the girl who would be playing Tashi for the championship. I really don’t know if that was a good or bad thing. On one hand, I lost from a bad call when I was so close to the end. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have to battle my best friend and get absolutely decimated, as she would say.

As I continued to lose myself in thought, two boys, blonde and brunette, moved through the growing crowd and sat in front of me.

You’re kidding me.

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson—the “fire and ice” duo—had just won their doubles match, if I’m not mistaken. How could I be when their trophies were sitting right on their laps?

There's still a ton of seats open, and they choose to sit here?

Rolling my eyes and crossing my arms, I pushed my sunglasses up, waiting for Tashi to come out.

Staring at the door to the locker rooms, I clicked my tongue in boredom before grabbing the tournament pamphlet to look at everyone’s stats.

“Don’t you wanna meet Tashi Duncan?”

My ears perked at this as I put the pamphlet down and narrowed my eyes at the brunette boy.

Whoever said eavesdropping was a bad thing…

I had to hold in my laughter as they began to talk about Tashi and how she was the entire package. Telling her this later would be the highlight of my week.

“What about Mikaelson, you know her?” Patrick asked as he slung his arm around his companion.

I froze at this and tilted my sunglasses down to better see the two of them.

“Of course I know her. Have you seen her play? She’s fucking hot.” Art added with a smirk as he attempted to whisper, failing miserably.

My face heated up at this as my eyes narrowed at the boys.

Do they not realize the person they’re talking about is behind them?

“Agreed,” Patrick started as he pulled his friend closer. “She’s also got a fat ass.” He laughed as Art chuckled along with him.

Gag.

Closing my eyes and pretending I didn’t hear that, I heard cheers and claps from around, signaling that Tashi had come out of the locker room. The chair umpire immediately began to talk about her stats and how she was the best female player in our division.

I happily clapped as I beamed at my friend, her eyes scanning the crowd and locking with mine, a large smile playing on her features.

“Fuck, did you see that? Tashi Duncan just smiled at us…” Patrick exclaimed in awe as he pushed Art in the chest.

“Shit, I missed it.” Art complained before leaning back and adjusting himself in his seat.

I almost had to cover my mouth to hide the vomit that was about to let loose.

Dumbasses.

After a few minutes, Tashi’s match began, of course, in her favor. Everything was perfect: her serves, backhand, line receives, counterattacks, and every single step she took.

I smirked widely as I watched Tashi decimate the bitch who, unfortunately, decimated me.

Patrick and Art watched Tashi in awe for the first ten minutes of the match while commenting on how amazing a player she was.

I snorted at this, wondering how long it would take to notice who was sitting behind them.

On the next serve, Tashi’s opponent hit the ball out, but the line umpire declared it as in.

Standing up immediately, I pointed a finger and yelled at the top of my lungs.

“What?! Come on, Tash, don’t take that shit!”

Everyone else agreed with me as the crowd began to roar in protest of the shitty call.

Lost in the moment, I hadn’t realized that Patrick and Art had turned around and stared at me in horror and awe.

“Oh,” I started and took off my sunglasses. Did I yell in your ear?” I looked between them before looking back up at Tashi.

“Fuck, you’re-“ Patrick started in a slightly panicked state before I cut him off.

“Milan Mikaelson? Yeah, I’m guessing you two know me.” I spoke with sarcasm as I kept my eyes trained on Tashi and her opponent.

Caught.

“Shit, I’m real sorry for what I said, I-“ Art started before I placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, eyes still not leaving the game.

“Don’t sweat it, was too focused on the game to give a damn.” I lied straight through my teeth as I pretended to act nonchalant.

I could feel both of their eyes staring long and hard at my hand lingering on Art’s shoulder before I took it away to throw my hands in the air and yell as Tashi locked in another point.

“Come on, Tash!” I yelled and clapped with the roaring crowd, boys still looking back at me.

Sighing, I crossed my arms and looked back down at them. “Take a picture, it will last longer,” I spoke in annoyance before sitting back down and putting on my sunglasses.

All I could hear were muffled whispers and attempts to counteract my statement before they turned back around and shared we’re fucked looks.

Stifling my laughs, I angled my eyes back to the match.

As Tashi continued to hit the ball effortlessly for the rest of the match, her win came almost naturally.

Standing up and yelling, I quickly ran down the bleachers, feeling two pairs of eyes following me. I stood against the fence and clapped loudly while Tashi caught my eyes after her victory yell and smiled widely at me.

I jumped up and down with all the fans cheering with their signs and matching t-shirts.

Running around the court to thank everyone for coming, Tashi came over to me and grabbed my hands.

“Tashi! I’m so proud!” I yelled and bounced on my heels, extremely happy with my friend's success.

“My biggest fan.” She smiled and reached over to hug me before letting go and continuing to thank everyone.

Smiling proudly at her, I pushed my braids behind my back and took off my sunglasses. Turning around, I looked back at the sea of people cheering for Tashi before my eyes landed on two figures.

What a mystery those two are…

I smirked proudly at them as their eyes shifted between Tashi walking back to her locker room and myself standing by the fence.

Patrick leaned over to Art and whispered something as their eyes darted between us. I could only see Patrick's smirk and Art’s growing grin at his friend's words.

Snorting to myself, I turned around and put my sunglasses back on.

“Fucking morons…”

ADIDAS BRAND PARTY - 2006 8:00 PM

“Tashi!” I exclaimed as I weaved through a crowd of familiar and influential faces to ambush my best friend.

I could see her bright smile miles away as she turned to meet me at the edge of the dancefloor, engulfing her in a hug.

“Milan, I was wondering if you weren’t coming.” She laughed as she wrapped her arms around me and returned my hug.

Pulling away, I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “Tashi Duncan, my best friend, thought I would miss out on this?!” I questioned as I gestured to the bustling party. "You must be crazy if you think I would miss out on anything that concerned you and your tennis career,” I snapped at her with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll have you know I was late because my mother insisted on making me change ten times.” I rolled my eyes and tilted my head to where our moms were conversing. I stuck my nose up and closed my eyes, annoyed at the memory of how nagging my mother was when getting ready for the party.

Immediately, she raised her hands in defense and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, Miss Mikaelson, didn’t mean to assume.” She laughed before crossing her arms.

I watched her expression change slightly as her eyes softened and lips parted.

“I watched your match yesterday,” she said, lightly treading. “I’m sorry about the loss.” She finished and brought a hand to my shoulder, rubbing it gently with a sad smile.

Flashes of my match fluttered back into my mind as a small pit formed in my stomach.

I shrugged this off and took up a carefree attitude, whereas my insides were screaming.

“It was a shitty call, what can I say? That bitch had and has nothing on me.” I smirked and made sure not to falter, but secretly, the loss had internally crushed me.

Tashi laughed, brought her other hand to my shoulder, and bent down to level our eyes. “Don't worry, I decimated her for you. Plus, at Stanford, the both of us will be fucking up bitches right and left.” She shot a cocky smirk at this as I gave her one back in turn.

Stanford. The next four years of my life with Tashi Duncan would be the ultimate dream.

Right?

I extended my pinky to Tashi with a slight wink. “Promise?” I bit my bottom lip and smirked at this familiar gesture between us.

As long as I can remember, Tashi and I have made over a hundred pinky promises. Our first one involved her letting me borrow her Barbie doll while we played house and my promise to return it. Since then, it’s been a norm between us.

I felt the confidence radiating from Tashi’s grin as she moved her right hand from my shoulder to interlock our pinkies.

“Promise.” She repeated and swung our interlocked pinkies back and forth.

I laughed like a child all over again before quickly raking my eyes across the entire party. As I scanned the crowd, I let go of Tashi’s pinky and leaned in to whisper.

“Lots of important people here, I see,” I whispered as Tashi’s eyes followed mine.

“And familiar faces too…” She responded in a lower tone, angling her eyes to an older man by the beverages.

“Shut up!” I gasped before looking back at Tashi. “Is that Mr. Reynolds?!” I asked in shock at seeing our fifth-grade English teacher.

“Yup,” Tashi responded, standing straight as she crossed her arms. She studied the older man as he scanned the beverages offered. “He was always my favorite,” she quipped, not needing a huge explanation for why he was here.

At this, I burst out into laughter, as did she.

“I thought he died years ago.” I clutched my stomach before placing a hand over my mouth and muffling my small laughs. “Wait, that’s not nice. I mean, I thought he passed on peacefully years ago.” I corrected in a serious tone as I watched the older man before glancing at Tashi and bursting into laughter again.

As I laughed with Tashi, I felt a burning feeling on the back of my head.

Was someone staring?

Wiping my eyes carefully to avoid messing up my makeup, I slowly turned around and almost froze as I locked eyes with the person, or should I say persons, staring at Tashi and me.

Oh, hell no. Is that who I think it is?

Quickly, I turned back around and whispered to Tashi in a hurried tone.

“Tash, is that Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?” I looked her in the eye as they narrowed at the mention of the “fire and ice” duo’s presence at the party.

“Oh yeah, they’ve been staring all night.” She smirked and looked between the two of us. “Frankly, I don’t blame them.” Her smirk grows even wider, mirroring the Cheshire Cat.

Biting my lip, I remembered my earlier encounter with the two tennis players. I shuddered as I remembered their smirks and remarks about Tashi and me.

“Tash…” I said warningly, pointing my perfectly manicured finger in her face. “Please tell me you don’t have one of your ideas in mind.” I slightly scolded her, studying her face to see what she was thinking. “Those two are complete and utter idiots.” I continued as I shook my head.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and whispered back as she lowered my finger and sucked on her teeth. “Do you really need to ask this?” She questioned with an air that spoke obviously, are you stupid?

“And believe me,” She started and moved to fix the straps of my dress. “I know exactly how they are…teenage boys.” She snickered wider at this as I rolled my eyes.

I huffed loudly before grabbing a piece of my hair to fiddle while I groaned. “But Tash, it’s our summer before we go to college. No boys.” I retorted as the music in the background got a little louder.

Grabbing my hands, Tashi dragged us to the middle of the dance floor and forced me to dance. “First of all,” She started as she twirled me around, “This was never a pinky promise.” She spoke, wrapped her arms around my neck, and swayed us to the music.

Fuck, she got me there.

“Second of all,” She continued before touching my neck to untangle my necklaces while swaying with me. “I know you’re internally drooling over Art Donaldson. He’s exactly your type, and he’s going to Stanford.” She laughed to herself as she worked on my necklaces.

Fuck x2 can’t deny that.

I rolled my eyes and turned away, knowing I couldn’t argue either of those statements.

“You’re crazy…” Was all I could protest.

Untangling my necklaces, Tashi clapped and smiled brightly at me before putting her hands back on my shoulders. “This is gonna be a great start to the summer.” She grinned like a mad woman as we kept dancing across the floor.

After dancing, mingling, and trying not to focus on the two hard stares hitting Tashi's and my head for the entire night, I decided to go to the beach.

“Hey, Tash, I’m going to the beach for a quick breather. If my mom asks, I’ll be down there. Come down if you need anything or if I miss something interesting.” I smile gently at her while I take my heels off.

“Got it. Be safe.” She waved before going to get pictures with her family.

I smiled at her before walking to navigate the path to go down to the beach, pretending not to notice the two pairs of eyes following me.

10:00 PM

I wonder how long I had been down here listening to the sweet waves ripple against the hot sand. I almost feel as if the ocean is calling me.

Imagine the escape of living on a secluded island where nothing mattered. Not school, not tennis, and not the future.

Especially the future.

Staring at my newly manicured nails, I continued to get lost in my thoughts while the ocean rang in my ears.

Shit, I’m over everything.

I reached a hand up to my mouth and began to bite one of my nails.

Do I even wanna go to Stanford?

Practically gnawing at it, I can feel the acrylic wearing off.

Doesn’t matter because I’ll be with Tashi… right?

SNAP

“Fuck…” I muttered to myself as I broke off a nail, leaving a tiny bit of blood seeping from my nail bed.

Rolling my eyes, I held onto the broken nail and rested my head on my knee as I watched the ocean.

“We’re not interrupting, are we?” I heard a deep voice ask behind me, making me let out a small yelp and nearly fall off the rock.

Quickly turning around, I was met with two, unfortunately familiar, faces.

Why now?

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson stood before me, shoes in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Frankly, I had no idea which one spoke, and I had no care to know at this rate. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, and they disturbed that.

“What the fuck,” I explained as I stood up from the rock and patted my dress down. “Do you know how rude it is to sneak up on someone?” I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes as I looked between the two boys sheepishly standing before me.

“Shit, really sorry, didn’t know you were here,” Patrick spoke up as his counterpart dropped his cigarette from his lips upon seeing me study his stature.

Bullshit.

“Hm, okay, well, I’ll be going then,” I exclaimed, irritated, as I bent down to grab my heels. “I hope you two have a grand time.” I sarcastically quipped as I went to walk past them and go back up the path to the party.

“Wait,” Art, almost panicked, stood before me with a lopsided grin as he flicked his cigarette bud beside him and treaded lightly as he motioned to the chairs near the rock I had just occupied. “We’d love it if you joined us, just for a chat.” He had a genuine smile on his face now.

Are they serious?

Before I could open my mouth, Patrick beat me to it as he walked to sit in one of the chairs Art motioned to.

“Yeah, just to talk. You're one of the best players in our age bracket, and it would be a real treat to get to know you as an apology for what happened earlier.” Patrick added and smirked so wide I could feel pure smitten radiating off it.

They are serious.

Both boys were now staring at me, gazes identical in pure amazement, awaiting my response.

Fuck this. Fuck me. Fuck x3.

Sighing softly and crossing my arms, I dropped my shoes, returned to the rock, and sat down.

“You get five minutes,” I spoke curtly as I looked between the boys, waiting for one of them to speak up.

Art took this chance to open his mouth, but before he could begin, I held a hand up to stop him.

“Oh, and there’s no need to introduce yourselves. Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig, the “fire and ice” duo.” I spoke unenthusiastically, keeping my eyes on Art for a little longer before angling my expression to Patrick.

Both boys stared at me with slight smirks as I adjusted my dress and grabbed a piece of hair to play with while they continued.

“Well, Milan Mikaelson,”

I inwardly shuddered as he spoke my full name.

“During your match, I thought that call was fucked.” Patrick spoke up and got right to the point. He laughed as if he remembered it as a fond childhood memory.

Almost instantly, Art chimed in to add to his friends' thoughts, a bit too eager for my liking. “I mean, that Anna girl could barely serve your entire match, and then that?” He stated as he shook his head, acting like he was scolding my opponent to her face like a coach.

My eyes lit up at this. They knew how to crack me. Bring up my pride and losses, and I’ll talk your ear off for hours.

“I think the official was blind because that bitch’s ball was totally past the line,” I explained matter-of-factly. “Did you see the way he hesitated before calling it? He probably had it in with her.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in annoyance at the memory of the loss.

“Still, you were fucking amazing out there. How did you get your backhand to be that powerful?” Art quickly added and leaned forward in his chair as if moving closer to me would allow him to understand my words better.

I let a slight smile adorn my features as I studied his position.

Fuck x4.

For the next four minutes, the three of us talked about tennis and our matches throughout the tournament. Though brief, I could quickly tell how these two relied on each other and their sport. It was definitely the glue for their friendship. I could also tell how they hung onto my every word, like a toddler waiting for his mother to let him out of the time-out-chair.

Checking my watch, I stood up and looked between the boys.

“Though this was fun, your five minutes is up.” I flashed my watch at them with a subtle smile before bending down to grab my shoes.

When I bent down, I could hear some rushed scuffles and whispers. Standing back up, I saw that both boys were also standing, very tense, might I add.

“How can we contact you to do this again?” Patrick asked with a smirk, which I presume was a signature for him.

Raising an eyebrow at him, I crossed my arms and looked between him and his blonde companion.

“Who said I wanted to do this again?” I asked as Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets with a defeated grin while Art let out a muffled chuckle.

“Come on, this was fun.” Art added and took a cautious step towards me. “Can we get your number?” He asked as he studied my face with the cheekiest grin he could muster.

I laughed at his question dryly before pointing my finger between the two boys. “We? You think I’m gonna get between this? Hell no.” I replied, walking past them to the stairs and back to the party.

Immediately, I could feel their eyes staring into the back of my head, and I wondered if they would beg or plead.

They better not.

“Come to our hotel,” Patrick yelled, making me whip my head around. “We have beer,” he grinned once he saw my interest somewhat piqued.

Fuck x5.

“It’s not far from here. We can talk more.” He gestured between the three of us and then pointed up to the party.

This made me look back to the party, about to question what he meant before Patrick chimed in.

“We talked to Tashi earlier and told her the same thing. Would be fun getting to know the beautiful golden tennis girl duo.” He chuckled as I watched his eyes flicker from my face to my lips.

This made my face heat up, but I would never reveal that. Teenage boys don’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing they have any sort of effect on me.

Clicking my tongue, I nodded at this new piece of information.

Tashi did say she had a plan in place. This could be fun.

“Maybe,” I replied as my eyes shifted between the boys.

You’re not easy, Milan Mikaleson. Remember that.

“Depends on my mood.” I finished and shot them small smirks before walking back up the stairs, not giving the boys a moment to retort.

As I walked back to the party, my eyes shut as I felt a headache coming on.

What the hell did I get myself into?

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t4tvampireisms · 30 days ago

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Now, You Feel So Alive

||Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester|| ||Post-Break Up Blues|| ||Flirting|| ||Bars|| ||Bikers|| ||Basically: DeanBenny, But Benny Is Like David From “Lost Boys”|| ||Kissing|| ||Handjobs|| ||Blood Drinking|| ||Of Course, What Did You Expect?||

Insanity brought to me by @boykingscourt . I hope you like it bestie. 😫🫶🏾❤️✨

—

This isn’t his normal haunt. But Charlie had insisted it’d be a good time, something to get his mind off of someone she’d cleverly labeled “He Who Must Not Be Named”. Aka, Dean’s latest heartbreak and most recent failed attempt at a relationship.

Her indignation and rage on his behalf at He Who Must Not Be Named’s tryst was something he was all for, but Dean hadn’t known that “getting him back out there” came with it as some sort of package deal.

Hence, now he was parked on a barstool nursing a lukewarm beer at some neon-lit dive called “The Dirty Dog”, a place that apparently catered to large hairy dudes clad in leather and denim-wearing barfly’s pouring their welfare checks down the drain alike. Charlie was somewhere off in a dark corner making out with a blonde grunge chick with spiked studs in her eyebrows, so Dean was left to fend off roving hands all on his lonesome.

The sounds of a jukebox rattling off classic rock and the heavy stench of sweat and tobacco provided background noise to the sudden wave of emotion sweeping through Dean’s body, surrounding and enveloping him like tar.

Moving to California was supposed to be a fresh start, and at first it kinda was; Dad had a good job, Sam was making friends with the local geeks down at the comic book store by the boardwalk, and Dean had even entered into a tentative relationship with a sweet Pastor’s boy by the name of Castiel.

Well, maybe a fresh start for everyone but him then, because Cas, as it turned out, had a particular taste for thorny brunette women named Meg, women who didn’t mind blowing him at parties with red lipstick smeared all over their faces like some sort of boring cliche.

Dean’s thumb caresses the side of his beer bottle, snorting derisively to himself at the memory of Castiel’s eyes going comically wide when he was caught; maybe Dean had just been apart of some sort of side quest to piss off a preacher, but since he’d blocked and removed the boy from his life in every way that mattered he’d most likely never know.

“Y’alright there, darlin’?”

Dean turns to his right, meeting the ice blue and calculating gaze of whoever had just decided to sit by him. He was handsome, Dean noted, features sharp and rugged with a healthy amount of stubble covering his chin and cheeks, hair dyed a platinum blonde that was almost white, teased at the top and fanned down at the sides into an almost death hawk; at this close proximity Dean could make out the smell of Marlboro’s, confirmed by the one tucked snugly behind the strangers ear.

He was alluring, beautiful, and after all the shit Dean has been through the past couple of days, he thinks he’s earned the right to a bit of flirting. Not breaking eye contact, he takes a long and slow swig from his earthy beer, licking the residue from his bottom lip afterwards. “Fine, now that you’re here.”

The stranger laughs, melodic in the way a church bell rings during a quiet Sunday morning after service. “I’m Benny. Y’got a name, handsome?”

“Dean.” He takes another pull from his beer. “You usually hang around places like this?” He asks, tilting the neck of his beer towards the sight of a grizzled older man pawing at the skirt of a girl who could’ve passed as his daughter.

“Do you?” Benny asks, watching the scene briefly before flicking his gaze back towards Dean.

A snort. “I asked you first.”

A smile, white and dazzling; a flash of what Dean thinks are unusually sharp canines glinting under the low light. “Mm. Sometimes; me and my gang, we just kinda wander. Try not to get kicked out.”

“Gang?” Dean repeats, raising a brow. “What, you in a biker gang or something?”

“Or something.” Benny smirks, eyes boring into Deans, as if he could see down to his very soul; it should’ve been unsettling, unnerving, but all Dean felt was an inexplicable magnetic pull. Like a trout on bait, waiting to be reeled in to the mouth of the consumer.

Dean’s own eyes are drawn to Benny’s hands, large hands wrapped up in worn-in leather gloves that looked fit for bike riding. The thought makes him feel warm; he’s always had a thing for bikers, especially bikers with pretty blue eyes and witty smiles.

Benny’s eyes don’t leave Dean’s as he lights up the cigarette behind his ear, the lighter itself silver and emblazoned with what looked like a skull and crossbones, only the skull itself had elongated teeth resembling those of a vampires. His lips purse as he inhales from the filter, chest rising and falling in a relaxed motion as he blows out thick clouds of smoke through his nostrils. “You feel like getting outta here?”

Dean looks around, spots Charlie tugging her latest catch towards the ladies restroom and realizes she ain’t leaving anytime soon. Any other time he’d feel bad about leaving his best friend behind, but right about now all he could focus on was the way Benny’s teeth tugged at his bottom lip, tongue poking out from between the pearly whites. “Yeah alright. Lead the way, gorgeous.”

Benny grins broadly, pushing away from the bar top as he grabs Dean’s hand and fluidly drags him through the crowd, as though they were moving to accommodate him and his movements rather than the other way around. Once the boys are outside Benny leads him towards the side of the bar not illuminated by neon signs, pressing him against the bare brick wall a moment later and capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

His stubble rakes against Dean’s skin, tongue probing and swiping inside his mouth as one gloved hand places itself by Dean’s head, the other going to cup his jaw with the thumb almost hooking into his mouth.

The leather is warm, smooth and thick, something his lips immediately latch onto when Benny’s pull away, sucking at the material and leaving it glistening with saliva. The aftertaste of cinnamon and clove from Benny still lingers on his breath, an ambrosia that leaks into his skin to leave him feeling scent-drunk and almost airy.

Benny watches him hungrily, ice blue obscured by the inky blackness of his blown-out pupils, and maybe it was just his eyes adjusting to the lack of light, but Dean could’ve swore he saw a flash of yellow in that predatory stare just a second ago.

“Beautiful.” He hears Benny murmur, pulling his fingers away to reclaim his mouth, feels as his lips travel from his jaw to his pulse point, sucking what would no doubt be bruises by morning into his skin. Dean groans, low and throaty, tilting his head back against the wall to further bare his throat to Benny, who hums appreciatively as he marks his neck.

So lost in a sea of bliss he almost doesn’t notice as the sucking becomes biting, the feeling of teeth puncturing Dean’s neck causing him to gasp and open his eyes; what he sees is Benny, still latched onto his neck, only his lips are now shiny with a mixture of saliva and blood, tongue gently and insistently lapping at the small wound he had created. He should be afraid, should pull back and shove the other boy away and tell him to fuck off. It wouldn’t be the first time a potential tango partner had gotten a bit too kinky for comfort.

But the thing was, Dean wasn’t afraid. He was enjoying every single zap and zing of pain mixed pleasure, endorphins and ecstasy flooding his body much like the first few seconds after ingesting the sugary sweet high of ecstasy.

Benny pulls away from Dean’s neck, his eyes hooded and almost completely clouded over; he looked just as high as Dean felt, lips swollen and tinged pink with ruby red liquid dripping down his chin. He looked almost animalistic, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, the jut of his cheekbones more prominent, the tips of his ears pointed in a way Dean hadn’t taken stock of until now. Whoever, or whatever, this boy was didn’t matter; Dean wanted to be destroyed by him.

“You taste so sweet, darling.” Benny cooes, leaning in with a kiss that was more an exchange of tongue, of taste, and Dean realizes with a jolt that he is currently tasting his own blood. He couldn’t taste anything apart from copper, but nonetheless it was still new and exciting. Kissing with Cas had been nice, but they’d never gotten beyond the stage of heavy petting. Maybe it was wrong to compare his ex to a boy he’d only known for less than an hour, but it seems as though Dean was neglecting all other rational thought and feeling in exchange for hedonism tonight.

Had he already mentioned how intoxicating Benny tasted? It was as though the boy himself was a drug, tasting of spices, herbs, and sweetness, settling into his bones and bloodstream like a warm and tingly alcoholic beverage; a talisman in a (semi) human form.

The hand not braced on the wall behind Dean travels down his side, weightless and featherlight, grazing his hip and the sliver of skin exposed by a shirt most likely one size too small for him. Nimble fingers trail along the waistband of his pants, dipping ever so slightly past the elastic of his boxers before continuing their journey. Dean can feel himself straining against the denim of his bleach-washed jeans, achingly hard and begging for any sort of reprieve; Benny, thankfully possessing the ability to seemingly read minds, takes mercy on him and splays his palm on the prominent bulge it finds, removing his hand from the wall to deftly undo Dean’s buckle and unzip his fly.

Once his underwear is tugged down and out of the way, exposing his flushed skin to the otherwise chilly night air, Benny wraps his gloved hand around his cock, stroking and twisting, pressing his thumb against the tightly stretched frenulum under his head, chuckling deeply as Dean’s hips stutter and buck further into his touch.

Benny strokes a little faster, swallowing Dean’s moans with deeper and deeper kisses, whispering all sorts of dirty things into his ear in that carefree drawl of his. His thumb swipes over the head once again, smearing pearly drops of pre-come over his erection, the sounds slick and obscene and downright filthy. It’s not long before Dean is coming with a choked off groan, spilling hot and sticky all over Benny’s hands and fingers. He nearly collapses, Benny’s arms steadying him as his limbs decide to take a last minute vacation without informing the boss.

“Fuck.” Dean voices, almost embarrassed at how wrecked and hoarse his voice sounded.

“Mm.” Benny licks at the sticky white fluid coating his gloves, making hot and heady eye contact the entire time. Dean’s already-spent cock gives a half hearted throb at the sight, but he doesn’t think he could go a second round even if his legs weren’t currently made of jelly.

After tucking his soiled gloves into the pockets of his wool duster coat, Benny leans against the same wall Dean was currently using as a support beam to light up another cigarette, relaxed and nonchalant in a way that would’ve been infuriating if it wasn’t so damn attractive; it only made Dean wanna work twice as hard to get him worked up in the future.

“Need a ride home?” He asks, keeping his eyes trained on the inky black darkness above as he hands the cigarette over.

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” Dean nods, accepting the offered vice and taking a deep drag of it himself. Tonight had certainly been one for the books.

—

Dean’s head is buried in his pillows when a heavy weight suddenly throws itself on his bed, jostling his body weight and forcing him to open his eyes to scowl at whatever had just disrupted his sleep. A floppy haired boy of sixteen glares down at him, bangs falling into his eyes and yet somehow he’s still able to pull off the pissed-off-parent look.

“Whatddya want, Sam?” Dean groans, squinting against the bright light filtering into their shared bedroom.

“Charlie said you ditched her; she saw you walking off with some punk, and she also said she didn’t see you return. Were you doing drugs? Was he your dealer?”

Dean groans again, grabbing a pillow and draping it over his head. “Since when did you become Dad?”

“Since you started sneaking off with blonde punks to do drugs.”

“I wasn’t doing drugs, idiot.” Dean tries and fails to aim a kick at Sam’s shins, which only causes him to move his aching muscles more than they clearly wanted or were capable of. “Just go away. I’m fine.”

Sam hmphs but ultimately decides to leave it be, for once, bouncing off of Dean’s bed with the sound of his footsteps departing for the door following soon after. “Dad made breakfast. You should get up.”

Dean’s hand grazes over the mark on his neck after Sam leaves, fingers hovering over raised and jagged skin.

Killer hangover aside, being with Benny was the most fun he had in weeks; if he was planning on seeing the beautiful boy again, and soon, no one else had to know.

@lesbianboyfriend @bsideheart @tboykrillin @lesbianjudasiscariot @pikslasrce @girlv1rgin @transchesters @switchkick

#benny lafitte #supernatural #spnfandom #dean winchester #dean/benny #lost boys fusion

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lclrcs · 8 months ago

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Under Grease-Stained Bandages Pt. 1

summary: charles is a mechanic who has made a name for himself and max is a racer who has been admiring his work for a while. the blonde wants charles on his team, but charles prefers to fly solo.

Charles had always had an affinity for cars. His blood flowed red, but in the same red that paints a Ferrari. That same blood dribbled down; his fingertips torn bloody after messing around with the engine of the client who sat nearby in the waiting room. Sweat prickled at his brow. The room was stiflingly hot. The sun poured heat through the open garage door. During the summertime, regulating how hot it was in the shop was almost impossible. The smell of hot rubber tires smothered him, an combination of sweat and oil coating him like another layer of skin. He raised his arm, wiping away the bead of sweat to realize how destroyed his fingers had become. Almost instantly after his realization, he felt a surge of pain in his fingers.

Wiping his hands on the rag he had half-tucked into his pocket, he stepped back from the car. He bent down, tugging at the toolbox drawers until a package of band aids came into sight. He took a few from the box and wrapped his fingers. He sighed, shaking his head as he readied his customer service persona to talk to the individual in the waiting room. The cold metal door handle felt heavenly against his hot skin. Pushing open the door, Charles leaned against the counter in the waiting room. He basked in the cold, air-conditioned room, staring intently at the blonde man who was completely enraptured in whatever was on his phone. If you had asked Charles to describe the man sitting in the waiting room, he’d say he was just like any other rich white boy who grew up in a safe cul-de-sac away from the dangers of the world.

“Your car is set,” Charles broke the silence, his voice still soft as if he was scared to be too loud. “I didn’t know my mechanic was French.” The blonde teased, sliding his phone into his pocket as he stood up. Charles rolled his eyes. He didn’t mind some light teasing about his accent but calling him French always ruined it. Charles spun the man’s keys around his finger before quickly tossing them towards the blonde. “Take better care of your car blondie.” He murmured, sliding behind the counter to close the guy out. “Yeah, yeah...” the blonde reached for his pocket, retrieving a wallet and pulling out a card. Charles took the card, and with a newfound curiosity, he flipped the card over to learn the man’s name. Something about the man having his last name abbreviated to fit on his license plate was amusing to Charles. “What?” The blonde man, Max, questioned. The brunette shook his head, fighting a giggle that was slowly rising up his throat, and handed back the card. “Nothing, nothing at all mate.”

Max shoved his card into his pocket, exiting the shop swiftly. As soon as the bell lightly jingled, Charles let out a small giggle as he ran his hand through his hair. He looked down at the register screen again, frowning when he realized the time. Dragging his feet, he walked back to the shop and closed the garage doors. He stooped down, locking the doors to notice a small gold pin had been left on the floor. He scooped it up, pocketing it for later. Usually, he would never close his shop so early, but he had appointments that he’d been pushing off for months that could no longer avoid. As he walked back into the waiting room area, his eyes immediately went to the mysterious pile of cash that had appeared on the counter. He furrowed his brow, walking over to the counter with unsure strides. There was $1,000 discarded on the counter, neatly bundled, and a cream card. The card had a faint bull design in the background, and in dark red writing, a small smile was drawn. Charles slipped the card into his pocket and tucked the money into his savings jar that he’d left under the register.

The next day, Charles followed the same routine he did every Thursday morning. He woke up at 5, went for a run at 5:15, showered at 7, ate at 7:30, got dressed at 7:45, and was at work by 8:30. Usually, work would be slow until 9. But when Charles turned into the parking lot of his work, there was already a car waiting. The engine idled, a rhythmic beat gently vibrating the ground around it. The brunette took a deep breath, parked his car, and walked into his shop. Ignoring the lobby, he made a B-line to the shop. He unlocked the three garage doors, pushing them up to let the cool morning air fill the shop.

“So, do you ignore all of your clients?” Charles jumped, spinning around to see the same blonde from yesterday leaning against the large frame of the garage doors. The man had a waggish look on his face, a mischievous glimmer in his eye as he pushed himself off the thin frame to walk towards the brunette. “Or am I special?”

#f1 #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fic #enemies to lovers #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic

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angelicyouth · 1 year ago

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Lavender ; Chapter 2

⇢ pairing: stan marsh x broflovski!reader

⇢ genre: summer romance ; soulmates AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝You looked forward to attending the sleepy, beachside town's famous carnival every summer. But not because you got to see your cousins or your friends after a year of not seeing them—it was to see the boy behind the ring toss booth.❞

⇢ [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

// FIFTEEN:

“I fucking saw that, you dirty little cheat!” Clyde’s screeching loudly interrupts the otherwise tranquil heat of the afternoon, the boys and you gathered around your cousin’s backyard with your feet dipped inside Ike’s inflatable kiddie pool filled with water.

“If what you saw is all the nasty ass spit flying out of your mouth from all your fucking complaining then sure, Clyde—that’s what you saw!” Craig barks back as he roughly hands the yelling brunette his half of their shared popsicle, your tongue leisurely lapping at the sweetness of the one that you split with Tweek.

The two of you are leisurely sitting next to one another, your head comfortably resting against the blonde’s shoulder as you both lazily watch your bickering friends. You can feel Tweek’s damp locks of hair against your own as his head leans against the top of yours, perspiration beading at the hairline of the whole group yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care with this almost torturous heat.

The sleepy beachside town has been met with sweltering temperatures that exceeded last year’s, causing the boys to be greedy with their ice cream and easily irritable with the weather. There was an operating fan in every room of your friend’s houses (except for Tolkien and his fully functioning air conditioning system) to which all of you yelled at Clyde when he unplugged one just to charge his phone.

Nothing deters the brunette as he yells out, “I’ll look for a fucking magnifying glass and a ruler just to prove to you that you made your half bigger than mine, asshole—I swear I will!”

But before the ravenette can make a scathing retort back, the glass sliding door leading to the house opens as Tolkien roughly chucks a newly bought box of frozen sweets at the wailing jock. All future responses are cut off as their hands hurriedly fumble to save the package before it falls into the water, the promise of more ice cream after this one ending their argument as their mouths wrap around their snack.

After devouring the rest of the popsicles, you all hop onto your bikes to race each other to the beach with the threat of the last person there having to stuff seaweed into their swimsuit. Not only that, but they have to go up to a random person of the opposite gender to try to get their number.

Your stomach hurts from laughing too hard when Clyde gets pushed towards his designated pile of soggy seaweed on the sand after losing, his nose crinkling up in disgust when a wet squelch signals its success in finding its temporary home. It makes him look like he has a full diaper on, the sight of it only fitting the childish pout resting on his face.

“What the fuck ever! This makes it look like I have some gnarly pubes or my dick isn’t as small as Craig’s micropenis!” The brunette snickers as he swiftly dodges the ravenette’s predictably upcoming kick, the rest of you watching as his earlier bravado suddenly disappears when a few older girls begin to giggle with numerous obvious glances towards his stuffed shorts.

After the humiliating public rejection, he embarrassedly stomps his way back towards your cackling forms before reaching inside his swim trunks to grab the now warm seaweed and chuck it at the closest person. You all scramble to dodge as you painfully wheeze, tears rapidly leaking from the corner of your crinkled eyes onto your heated cheeks.

“Sick, dude! Don’t throw that shit on me—it was just stuck on your sweaty fucking balls!”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

You felt stupid because you were fifteen now but you couldn’t help but to think of the stuffed flower at the bottom of your suitcase as you step through the familiar throngs of carnival rides and games. All too soon, the sky faded from blue to black as your group repeated the cycle of eating unhealthy food and riding all the rides on the boardwalk as your tradition from previous years.

Deciding not to tell the guys about seeking out Stan, you wait until the perfect moment to make an excuse before you slip away from the group for a bit. As you excitedly walk towards the isolated booth, you think about how you never once considered the possibility that someone else could be working the game instead of the familiar bleached blonde.

This causes you to pause in your steps and while your usual reckless abandon would have caused you to give less of a shit and continue your journey to the ring toss booth, you don’t. You’re not sure if it's because the students at school have made it a common topic to talk about crushes and whatnot at every given moment with this new age but you can’t help but to feel self conscious at your one-sided fascination with the older teen.

You’re used to feeling like a dumbass and not thinking before you act (you’re surrounded by Clyde and your other friends after all).

But now…

You can’t help but to suddenly feel scared of the hurt of the rejection you know will appear when the bleached blonde routinely dismisses you like he always does. You’ve seen girls at school cry for days when they’ve broken up with their significant others and while you’re not quite sure as to what you feel for the older teen, you can’t deny the attraction that forces you to stop by the booth every year.

Almost like a hypnotic walk, taking control of your body and leading you there.

Like a connection.

But before you can make a decision as to what to do, you suddenly jolt when a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders from behind, Clyde whisking you off to fall into line for another ride as Craig mocks you about getting lost.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

This is what drove you to sneak into the carnival alone before it opened the following day, despite knowing that you were definitely not supposed to be there. But when did some measly yellow tape with the words Do Not Enter ever stop you from going anywhere?

How could you not disobey when it looked as if it was prettily tied up in a bow to be given as a present?

People were busy getting ready for the upcoming afternoon so you went by unnoticed, resolutely walking towards the far corner of the boardwalk that was tucked away from everything else. Clyde had said he was surprised that the ring toss was still operating and you could see why—no one ever seemed to stop by yet as you got closer, you could see the lights and prizes that meant it was still in business.

To your relief, Stan was there. His pretty blue eyes were still stuck to the glass screen of his phone, yes, but he was still working at the carnival and he was still appointed to the same booth.

This time, however, you don’t let the older teen speak up first this time. “Let me help you out.”

Your stomach clenches in nervous anticipation of your bold actions but your face doesn’t show it as Stan lifts up his head to look at you. A few beats of silence passes on by and while the multiple shades of cerulean hues were familiar, the bleached blonde didn’t hold an ounce of recognition in his eyes—again.

It hurt…

Again.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” The smooth lilt of his deep baritone awakens something within you after not having heard it for a whole entire year, your heart clenching painfully in yearning.

“No shit.” You respond back and you can’t help but to internally preen at the fact that you echoed his previous words to you from years before back at the teen.

God, you felt like you were on a roll.

Stan considers this for a moment before his legs swing down to hit the floor in front of his stool, a scoff escaping his mouth. “Whatever. If some kid wants to do my job for me then I’d be an idiot to not let them.”

“I’m not some fucking kid!” You angrily retort back, to which the older teen simply ignores.

“I swear I’m not! I’m in high school and probably not even that much younger than you, you know.” Stan just shrugs and the dry responses ignites the familiar irritation that fills up your body every single time you’re in the presence of the apathetic teen.

“Unless you’re a dumbass who failed a couple of grades and got held back a few times. How old are you, then?” The bleached blonde hops off his previous perch on his stool, his arms lazily stretching upwards over his head as your eyes immediately zone in on the small sliver of skin being exposed at his waist.

“I’m 17.” Stan responds around a bored yawn, your attention going back to his face when the cotton of his shirt resumes its previous position over his taut stomach.

“That’s not even that much older than me! I’m going to be a sophomore next year—I’m 15.” Your lips automatically curve along your face into a happy grin at the revelation that there were only two years between the two of you.

He really wasn’t some old fart like how he acts he is.

The older teen doesn’t respond, the metal of his keys softly dangling against one another as he unlocks something underneath the counter. You speak up again, “Let me help you.”

“I’m getting the prizes and shit. If you stand over the counter, you can hang them up.” Stan picks up a stuffed bunny and demonstrates by reaching up to rightfully place it in its display but you can’t help but to watch the way the silver of his rings prettily catches the sunlight over his longer fingers.

“My name is N/N. I mean, Y/N.” You stutter and you internally curse at yourself because you were doing so well at taking control of the situation and at taking the initiative to get closer to the teen.

“Stan.” Is all he supplies and you can’t help the frown crossing your face, your teeth biting onto your bottom lip because you already knew that.

You haul your body over the counter and get to work with putting away the plushies that the bleached blonde seamlessly hands to you, the older teen sitting atop the cold structure of the counter beside your feet as his other hand fiddles with his ever present cellphone. You can’t help but to smile in fondness every time a gentle breeze swings by, the soft caress of the wind causing the stuffed toys to dance along in the air.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” You distractedly hum back, watching the toys sway and say hello.

“Come here. I’ll show you how they fuck people over with this game.” And just like that, it’s as if you're an overeager puppy desperate to get its owner’s attention again as your trance gets broken and you hop down to land beside the older boy.

“They put the bottles really close together.” He mumbles as he sets up the glass objects onto the wooden table in front of you both. “So to win, you’d have to do it perfectly.”

“The rings are different weights so that you can’t get used to them.” The bleached blonde continues as you pick up different colored ones to test them out, and he was right.

“These are the order of the colors you should throw it in. You start with red because it’s the heaviest.” He throws it with a perfect arch before he grabs the next colored ring.

“Then it’s orange, yellow, green.” Each word is emphasized with the appropriate object as they beautifully twirl around the neck of the glass bottle.

“Light purple is always last—it’s the lightest.” You watch in fascinated awe as the rings all neatly lay on top of one another, like the rings around the planets of the solar system that Craig talks so much about.

That seemed to be the end of setting up as Stan drops back onto the stool to routinely tap against his phone, your eyes wordlessly staring at the disconnected teen. Clyde had said that he stopped entertaining other people that he didn’t deem worthy of his time except for his friends and you couldn’t help but to want that for yourself.

While you were loud and impulsive, Stan was quiet and deliberate.

He was cool in a completely different way than your older cousin. Where Kyle was passionate about what mattered most to him—of his studies and his morals, Stan didn’t give a shit about what other people thought of or if he pleased anyone with his actions. He barely spoke but every time he did, it felt hypnotic in the way where you were hanging onto every intonation and cadence of his words.

“You can come back later on tonight.” The older teen speaks up, your attention diverted from where it was watching his tongue dart out to wet the pretty pink of his plump lips. “I have to clean up after the carnival if you want to help.”

You beam in affirmation at the invite before you excitedly bound out of the boardwalk to meet up with your friends. When you tell them the exaggerated tale of you sneaking into the carnival, Tweek admonishes you in panic for the possibility of getting caught and banned for life.

There’s a secretive smile on your face as you shrug sheepishly.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It was late into the night when you finally remember your promise to Stan, having lost track of time as Craig roughly wipes the remnants of cinnamon sugar from your lips and Clyde finishes the last bite of your shared churro. You tell the guys to just go on ahead without you because you forgot something and after much reassurance (“I’m not going to get abducted by aliens, Tweek”), you jog back to the far corner of the boardwalk.

“I’m sorry.” When you had shown up, the older teen was done packing everything up and now he only shrugs in response at your guilty face.

“S’fine. Going home now.” You obediently nod in reply but you’re distraught at how childish you still were in comparison to Stan for forgetting such an important event in the distraction of fun with your friends.

Taking a step forward to the direction of the entrance, you can’t help but to notice that the bleached blonde was slinking away towards the darkness of the beach despite saying he was heading home. You bounce on the balls of your feets as you decide what to do before you take off after where you saw the older teen disappear.

Trying to stay quiet was no hard task as you walked through a multitude of bushes and overgrown tree branches until Stan finally sits down on the sand, your smaller form ducking behind a piece of driftwood on the beach. Peering past the brittle barricade, you watch as Stan heaves out a deep sigh before he lifts his head towards the illumination of the beautifully present moon.

Your breath gets caught into your throat at the sight of the vestiges of light prettily caressing the visage of the boy in front of you, his gaze intense as the shadows accentuate the affection his face holds for the brightly lit object shining above the both of you. Stan’s lips part ever so slightly and you can’t help but to wonder: what was he saying in secrecy to the moon?

You wanted to know.

But, you were intruding. It felt like an intimate moment that you shouldn’t be a part of and with one last glance, you stand up to slowly back away.

And just like that, a floodgate had opened. As you ride on your bicycle across the quiet expanse of empty streets, you’re ridden with the thoughts that you wanted to kiss Stan. You wanted him to look at you with that deeply held fondness that he looked at the moon with, wanted him to whisper his intimate thoughts to you.

But most of all, you wanted to hear him say your name.

When you throw your bicycle atop the grass of your cousin’s front lawn, you’ll look up to the moon across the glass panel of the window when you’re tucked away in bed that night and ask:

“What were you guys talking about?”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

// SIXTEEN:

This time, this year, standing on the boardwalk with your friends as they hand over your shared money to the person behind the ticket booth, you weren't going to assume that Stan remembered you. This was a mistake you made last year and the year before that but now you weren’t going to have expectations that could lead to any hurt.

It was your turn to be strategic—no more fumbled introductions or childish tantrums.

You were cool too, goddammit.

Steeling your resolve with one last deep breath, you walk up to the hidden booth. This was it—you were going to make Stan remember you this time.

“Hi.” You greet, the older teen looking up from his phone to nod his head at you. He looks as tired as he did the previous years, as if the universe just wouldn’t let him sleep but despite it all, he’s still as beautiful as before.

“Sup.” There is no recognition flickering behind his ever pretty eyes but that was okay, you prepared for this.

The stand is set up like it always is as you rummage through the pockets of your skirt to pull out the appropriate amount of tickets, your mind reminding itself of the order of colors to throw it in as he passes you the stack of rings. It’s almost funny how you remember, how clear the memory with Stan was when just yesterday Tweek was yelling at you for forgetting the tray of chicken nuggets you placed in the oven and letting it burn to a blackened crisp.

You pick up the red ring, the heaviest from what the older teen had told you but as you prepare to throw it, you don’t close your eyes like last time. Stan watches as it seamlessly glides across the air, the satisfying clunk! causing the corner of your lips to twitch upwards.

One after the other, you throw them in the order you remember until there was nothing left to throw. You made every single one, a beautiful array of colors with the pretty lavender color sitting atop the stack.

It’s quiet for a period of time as Stan squints at the perfect sequence of colors and back at the girl who made everything without batting an eye. “What the fuck. How’d you know the order..?”

“You showed me last year. Or did you forget, old man?” You teasingly smirk at the stunned expression on the teen, a satisfied thrum running along your veins.

“What? I showed you?” The skin between his eyebrows begin to crease in disbelief, “I don’t remember doing anything like that at all. Are you fucking with me?”

Although this meant that he forgot about you again, you couldn’t help the cacophony of butterflies that dangerously flutter along your stomach at the notion that you were the only one Stan had ever told that to. You want to stay a bit longer to make a deeper impression after your success but you made a promise of having a hotdog eating contest with Clyde later on so you had to go.

“I’m Y/N. And you’re Stan—I remember you.” There’s a blank look in Stan’s eyes as he looks at you but it was okay. Like you said, you were prepared for that to happen again.

“I have no idea why you remember an asshole like me. You won though, what prize do you want?” He stands up as he slides his mobile device into the coarse material of his jean’s pocket, your eyes breaking away from his form real quick to scan along the hanging prizes.

“Nah, I’m okay. I just like playing.” You flash him a wide grin, your pearly white teeth making an appearance when you see the eyebrow that he quirks up.

“I’ve never heard that before. You like playing rigged games or some shit? Or just ring toss in particular?” Ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth lifts up in amusement which in turn causes you to feel like you won a Nobel Peace Prize or some other great accomplishment.

Like usual, your mouth works faster than your brain as you impulsively say, “It’s not the game that I’m into.”

You internally shriek but outward you stay composed, tilting your head to the side when you see the older teen slightly part his pretty pink lips. “... Oh.”

You’re absolutely beaming in delight at this newly predatory position you’ve reached, flashing the bleached blonde a smile. “Later!”

Waiting until you were no longer in sight of Stan, your feet pick up their pace as it steadily hits the structure of the boardwalk in a thump-thump-thump motion like your still racing heart.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Your head is laid against Craig’s lap, the ravenette’s longer fingers running through the soft locks of your hair in repetitive motions that threaten to put you into deep sleep. All eyes are on the television as you watch Tweek and Tolkien duke it out on the big screen, the incessant sound of a vibration against the wooden floor irritating the boys.

“Who the fuck are you texting, Clyde?” Tolkien nosely asks, his head trying to catch sight of the brunette’s flashing phone as he tries to dodge any prying eyes.

“Fuck off—It’s none of your goddamn business!” He screeches, the sheer volume of his voice causing you to jolt awake.

“It’s probably a girl, dude.” Tweek lazily says, his blonde bangs tied up into a mini palm tree at the top of his head to keep it away from his sweat-sheened face.

“Pfft, now you know that’s a damn lie. Clyde can’t pull for shit.” Craig snorts from his position above you, a high-pitched whine resounding from your throat when his fingers stop their soothing ministrations in your hair.

“Fuck you! I get enough, thank you very much!” The brunette is indignant as he harshly swats away Tolkien’s teasingly reaching hands away from his cellphone, the rich teen diverting his fingers to tickle Clyde instead in an attempt to distract him.

“Yeah, if getting some is kissing your own grandmother on the fucking cheek when you see her then sure, Clyde. You get all the retired bitches.” Tweek hollers out a loud laugh as he brings an elbow up to hit Craig in the ribs at his words, your eyes closed as you sleepily giggle at the burn.

“N/N got even more action than you when she was 13, Clyde. You’re a lost fucking cause.” Everyone snickers as you blindly bring a hand up to swat at the resident blonde of the group for bringing up that memory, a nostalgic grin curling at your lips as they teasingly push at your resting body for having game as a kid.

Your first year with the boys for the summer, you caught the attention of one beautiful Wendy Testaburger when she saw you by chance on the swings of the park with your friends. She knocked on your window to break you out of the house in the middle of the night, the pair of you intertwining your hands together as you both silently giggle off into the warm darkness of the air.

Surprising you with an impromptu visit, she led you to a clearing where the din of the luminescent fireflies casted her soft features alight in a beautiful glow. You both rested your backs against a magnificently tall tree that you couldn't identify under the inky night, the ravenette pulling out two lunchables for the both of you from her Chinpokomon backpack to snack on as you talked.

She had dropped you off back to your cousins with your first kiss as a parting gift that summer night.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Stan! Can I help you set up?” You present the older teen a soft smile, your hands clutching one another as you fiddle with your fingers as an outlet for your nervous energy.

He looks up from where he was staring down at his phone, an eyebrow quirking up at the sight of you. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

“How else? I climbed through the tape, duh.” You roll your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest, shifting you weight to one side as you await for his answer.

He snorts but it’s still pretty, a lilt of amusement tainting his tone. “You mean the one that clearly says Do Not Enter in all caps?”

“Hm. If it’s made out of something so flimsy then it feels more like a suggestion, no? Whatever, I’m only asking because you let me help you last year.” You lean over the counter separating the two of you as he busies himself with unlocking all of the cabinets.

“You sure like to claim a bunch of shit that I don’t remember.” He hums before he stands to his full height, your breath getting caught at your throat because this is the first time you’ve stood this close to one another and face-to-face at that.

You lean back from your previously leaning position when you take note of his taller frame (not as much as Craig but still a fucking giant compared to you, holy shit) but you don’t back down. “It’s not my fault that you don’t remember me.”

He hums again in thought as he crosses his arms, “And that’s such a fucking shame. I feel like I would have remembered someone like you.”

You busy yourself with hopping onto the counter to sit because it’s easier to flirt when you can’t see the mesmerizing depth of ocean blue eyes. “Someone like me, huh? And what does that mean? Someone attractive? Funny? Charming?”

Your feet leisurely swing as they dangle from your perched position and from your peripherals, you can see Stan laying his palms flat against the counter beside you as he leans his weight against the structure. “I was going to say someone annoying as hell.”

“Fuck you! I don’t have to go out of my way to provide you free labor just for you to be a piece of shit meanie!” Your cheeks angrily puff out as your lips curl into a pout.

“Boo-fucking-hoo. If you don’t like the working conditions then quit.” Is all you get before he shoves a box full of glass bottles into your arms.

You mutter to yourself as you petulantly place them onto the wooden table until you catch sight of Stan watching you. “Close together so that they can fuck you over, right?”

“Yeah, all the games are rigged here.” He says before he resumes his task of hanging up plush toys but you already know because he told you that before.

“This stand isn’t very popular.” You remark when the two of you are done setting the booth up and are standing under the shade provided by the hanging prizes.

He waves off your words, “Like I give a shit. Not my fault that the stand’s hidden in the asscrack of the boardwalk.”

Sending him a judgemental glance, you scoff at his response. “Pretty sure it is your fault. You’re a fucking asshole, dude. It’s like 30 degrees colder here compared to the rest of the boardwalk because of your shitty personality.”

“Says you. You show up every year, apparently, and now you’ve snuck in early to force your help onto me. Which I don’t get any fucking tickets for, by the way. ” The taller teen sends you a condescending look back.

“Who gives a shit about some tickets when you get to hang out with me!” You boldly declare, presenting the older boy with a shit eating grin.

The bleached blonde simply narrows his eyes down at you, “Like that’s any form of compensation. What, your mom let you out of the house dressed like that?”

You look down at your skirt as the soft material flutters along with the wind. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m here with my aunt, first of all. And fuck you—people loved my outfit when I wore it to a party once.”

The older teen just sends you a look, as if communicating that he never asked for an explanation. “Well the party you went to probably sucked ass, then.”

“I mean, parties fucking suck in general when you’ve been to enough. It’s fun at first but it’s repetitive so it gets pretty tiring.” You mumble, honestly reflecting your personal experiences from the high school parties you often get dragged to.

“Hm? What happened to you?” He lazily asks, a well-welcomed breeze caressing both of your locks of hair against the harsh sun rays.

You think about how you made out with a boy who had similar bleached blonde hair and couldn’t get yourself to go through with it when you began to imagine that the larger hands trailing down the skin of your waist was Stan’s. Or how the only reason you agreed to get locked in a closet during a game of seven minutes in heaven was because the deep lilt of the boy you went in with sounded similar to Stan’s baritone voice.

“... Peer pressure, lots of confusion. Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll be doing those things again.” Your voice is soft between the space of the booth you’re standing in, your fingers fiddling with the creases in between the folds of your top.

“Good—I don’t know what I’d do without my worthless assistant if they got into shit.”

Your mouth parts to give a scathing retort but you pause when you see the sight of a gentle curl along Stan’s lips for the very first time.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Back to torment me?” Is what greets you when you come back the following day before opening, the older teen in his usual laid-back position atop his stool.

You roll your eyes, “Fuck off. You don’t even have to do anything—I can do all of this shit by myself and with my eyes closed.”

“Like that means anything. A fucking baby could do this.” He lazily scoffs.

As you get to work, your body goes through the motions now ingrained into your body as taught from the taller teen while Stan sits back and relaxes. When you stop in front of one of the floor to ceiling mirrors that make your body look all wonky for comedic effect, you can’t help but to pause in front of the panel of glass.

Because from the reflection, you could see Stan watching you.

Not that he was making eye contact with you, but the bleached blonde was watching you work without knowing that you had caught him in the act. It was a different type of attention from the years of disinterest that it made you smirk to yourself at this newfound knowledge.

Slyly, you take off the jacket adorning your frame as if it was bothering you because of the sweltering heat. You see how Stan’s eyes slowly darken as they take in the expanse of newly exposed skin with this new but special kind of attention, leisurely dragging his sight across your body as if he had all the time in the world to admire your form.

When you leave the booth later on to meet up with your friends, you notice how he doesn’t call you a kid anymore.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Hey. Show me how to play this game again.” You ask, Stan staring up at you with his leg tucked under his chest as usual but without a phone in sight.

“Light work.” He scoffs, a cocky lilt to his voice at the simple request.

You slip inside the booth as you internally preen at the fact that you’re the only person that Stan would let in like this as you drag your fingers across the necks of the glass bottles. “Get them all over just this one bottle then.”

He smirks, the handsome expression making your insides warm at how attractive his confidence is. “Like I said: fucking easy.”

“Then show me.” You stick out your tongue at him as you step back outside of the booth, your skirt following the movement of your body.

“Got a ticket for my troubles?” Rolling your eyes, you flick the paper at him as he steps beside you, his ring-adorned fingers flexing in preparation to throw.

His aim is precise as always as he goes through the order of the colors imprinted in your mind, all until he has just the light purple ring in his hold. He sends you a glance and you can’t help but to notice that it’s with the same attention from when he looked at you in the mirror earlier in the day. But this time, you make eye contact.

His hand wobbles before the worn out object clatters onto the ground.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you don’t understand what was going on because you’ve never seen Stan lose composure, your head quickly whipping back to the side to look at the older teen beside you. He looked… Angry.

“Seriously? Don’t lose on purpose just to make me feel better. I’m not a fucking kid anymore no matter how much you think I am.” Scoffing, you walk towards the fallen item as you place it back against the counter.

“I didn’t lose on purpose.” His voice is quiet, back to his usual self again.

“What then? Forgot how to play, old man?” You tease, collecting all of the rings from the bottles to gather them back into one pile on the counter.

“Want me to teach you how? It’s free of charge since I feel so bad.” Snickering, you resume your previous position beside the taller teen.

“I taught you first.” He grumbles back as you perch yourself atop the counter, leisurely swinging your feet back and forth in delight.

“Red is first.” Stan rolls his eyes at your words before he picks up the aforementioned ring, his hands still trembling ever so slightly.

You quirk an eyebrow when you notice, jumping down beside the bleached blonde to reach for his wrist in an effort to guide him into a throw. The second your skin touches for the first time, however, the older teen gasps at the contact as the second ring of the night meets its demise on the ground.

“Holy shit! I’m sorry—” Cutting off your words, muscular arms wrap around your waist to which you immediately wrap your own around broad shoulders.

Leaning his weight against your body, you try to keep the both of you upright as he burrows his face into the safe solace of your neck and a shaky breath hits your exposed skin. It’s quiet for a moment as you don’t know what to do, confused and begging anyone that was listening to make it so that Stan couldn’t feel how quickly your heart was beating underneath your chest.

You stay that way for the rest of the night with Stan oddly quieter than usual, the teen not responding as he stays in your embrace whenever you try to fill the space with meaningless talk. When he gives you a wordless goodbye in the form of a gentle nudge when people begin to leave the boardwalk, you hurriedly rush to speak up in your immense confusion to the events that transpired.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” But he still doesn’t answer.

Your hands clench around the soft material of the shirt adorning his frame, “Please say something. I don’t want you to forget about me again.”

Like you always do.

Finally, Stan pulls away and looks at you. “I don’t think I’ll forget someone like you. I don’t even know why you’re so dead-fucking-set on getting to know an asshole like me in the first place.”

You silently watch as he returns behind the counter of the booth, his hands rummaging between tufts of plushed toys before he pulls out a cute star. “Here—as payment for helping me because I don’t want to owe a shithead like you anything. Something to remember me by and because it looks like you.”

Gently grabbing the proffered item, you smile as you whisper. “You’ve said that to me before, asshole.”

When the thoughts of what had occurred crowd your mind on your ride back home, you’ll hug your new gift to your chest as you think about how you’d never forget Stan.

#south park #south park x reader #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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lavyahairdesign · 7 months ago

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Mastering the Art of Foiling Blonde Hair: Tips for Stunning Highlights

Blonde hair has an undeniable allure, offering a bright, youthful, and sophisticated appearance. One of the most effective techniques for achieving beautiful blonde hair is foiling. Whether you're aiming for subtle highlights or a dramatic transformation, foiling allows for precise color application and stunning results. In this blog post, we'll explore the ins and outs of foiling blonde hair, from understanding the process to tips for maintaining your gorgeous new look.

What is Foiling?

Foiling is a hair coloring technique where sections of hair are painted with a lightener or color and then wrapped in foil. This method isolates the colored hair, allowing for precise placement and control over the lightening process. It's a versatile technique that can create a variety of looks, from soft, natural highlights to bold, high-contrast streaks.

The Benefits of Foiling Blonde Hair

Precision and Control: Foiling allows for exact placement of color, ensuring a consistent and even result. This precision is particularly important for achieving the perfect shade of blonde.

Customizable Look: Whether you want a full head of blonde, partial highlights, or a mix of different tones, foiling offers endless customization options to suit your style and preferences.

Dimension and Depth: Foiling can create multi-dimensional color by blending different shades of blonde, adding depth and movement to your hair.

Reduced Damage: By isolating each section of hair, foiling minimizes the risk of over-processing and damage, keeping your hair healthier.

The Foiling Process

Consultation: Start with a thorough consultation with your stylist to discuss your desired look. Share your hair history, preferences, and maintenance expectations to ensure the best results.

Sectioning: Your stylist will section your hair to prepare for the application. Depending on the desired outcome, sections can be larger or smaller.

Application: The lightener or color is applied to the selected sections of hair, which are then wrapped in foil. The foils help to keep the color from bleeding onto the rest of the hair and enhance the lightening process.

Processing: The foils are left in place for a specific amount of time to allow the color to develop. Your stylist will monitor this closely to achieve the perfect level of lightness.

Rinse and Tone: After reaching the desired shade, the foils are removed, and your hair is rinsed. A toner is then applied to neutralize any brassy tones and perfect the blonde hue.

Condition and Style: Your hair will be treated with conditioning products to restore moisture and shine. Finally, your stylist will cut and style your hair to complete the look.

Tips for Maintaining Blonde Foiled Hair

Use Purple Shampoo: Purple shampoo helps to neutralize yellow and brassy tones, keeping your blonde highlights looking fresh and vibrant.

Hydrate Regularly: Blonde hair, especially when lightened, can become dry. Use deep conditioning treatments and hair masks weekly to maintain moisture and health.

Protect from Heat: Limit the use of heat styling tools and always apply a heat protectant spray to prevent damage and preserve your color.

Avoid Over-Washing: Washing your hair too frequently can strip it of natural oils and cause your color to fade faster. Aim to wash your hair 2-3 times a week.

Regular Touch-Ups: Schedule touch-ups every 6-8 weeks to keep your roots in check and your blonde looking fresh.

Choosing the Right Shade of Blonde

When foiling blonde hair, selecting the right shade is crucial. Consider your skin tone and natural hair color to find a complementary blonde hue:

Warm Skin Tones: Opt for golden, honey, or caramel blondes to enhance your natural warmth.

Cool Skin Tones: Choose ash, platinum, or icy blondes to create a striking contrast.

Neutral Skin Tones: You have the flexibility to go with a variety of blonde shades, from buttery to champagne.

Conclusion

Foiling blonde hair is a fantastic way to achieve stunning, customized highlights that add depth and dimension to your look. With the right technique and maintenance, your blonde locks can remain vibrant and beautiful. Ready to transform your hair? Book your appointment today and let our expert stylists help you achieve the blonde hair of your dreams!

Lavya Hair Design are your first choice for a Hairdresser in Toowoomba for modern hair cuts, crisp clean hair colours and naturally nourished hair.

#full head foils blonde #half head foils blonde #blondes and brunettes hair packages #foiling blonde hair

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hermitcrossovers · 1 year ago

Note

Told my friend about the Philza family tree au, here’s their addition: “Kristen just sees blonde blue eyed children that reminds her of her husband and goes “ooooh mine! Yoink!”

Also, I know Pearl’s brunette, but since I’ve seen so many hcs and fics with her and Grian as siblings we have to add her as Grian’s lil sister

Kristin yoinks Grian and he goes back home to Pearl like, "So we have a new mom."

And then he takes Pearl to meet her and holds her up by the armpits (Pearl is taller than Grian.) "This is your daughter and look she has brown hair like you! We're a packaged deal btw."

And Kristin just shrugged and welcomed her in. So she has a total of 2 brunette children now lol.

-Mod Jer

#hermitcraft #dream smp #misstrixtin #grian #pearlescentmoon #philza's family tree au

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kitshune · 1 year ago

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A Piece of you (Chp 3)

Pairing: Void Archive/Welt Yang

————————————————

Morning arrived or at least that was what the Express clock system indicated. They open their eyes to the sight of a shorter brunette man right beside him, curls and holding onto their arm as he peacefully sleeps. It was…undeniably cute. Actually it’s extremely cute. They want to take a photo of it but damn they don't have their phone with them right now. Their phone was placed inconveniently on the far side of the table. Curses! Oh well at least they could save the memory as much as they can within themselves because they are quite literally an archive.

The man had snuggle on their arm and showed no sign of letting go as Void attempted to pull away only to be met with Welt snuggle closer to said arm. They didn’t take account of the man's super strength also since the man is extremely strong for an ordinary human. Then again, he isn’t exactly one to begin with. So pulling away isn’t an option right now. Void has no clue what to do at that moment so they resign their fate as a body pillow for the sleeping man. Not that they are going to complain as the brunette does look awfully adorable for his own good. Makes them want to bite him.

Heaving out a sigh. They lay back down facing toward the other man. They examine every bit of the brunette features. Admiring every single part that makes up the other’s facial. Even with the sight of wrinkles due to ageing on the man’s face, he still looks handsome. Talk about ageing like fine wine. Literally. His whole face looks softer as they are less strain currently rather than during his waking hour. Ah, Void felt like they could admire the brunette’s features for hours if they could. Maybe they should forfeit the self-organise mode to admire the man’s face each time he sleeps. Well that is if they were allowed to enter his room again. They aren’t sure if they are actually welcome in the other’s room. They kinda just barge in since they were bored and snooping around the brunette’s room is the only thing they could do for the time being. Of course there are other passenger’s rooms but they don’t think they should since both of the rooms belong to the girls and the data bank room is just an archive. Despite also being the raven hair’s and one of the trailblazers shared bedroom. They understand making the archive their space as Void is the same minus the fact that Void is the archive itself and not someone who lives in one. They were somewhat confused on why the twin trailblazers only have one room though. They understand that both are somewhat like twins even if they don’t admit to it, they require some sort of physical touch between each other if the express don’t want to deal with an anxious trailblazer. Void had ventured to their shared room of course and it’s only filled with their so-called ‘treasures’ which are trinkets they dug from a trash can and unopened package. Uninterested to them really.

Back to the slumbering man next to them, they moved their free arm to caress the brunette cheeks. Moving some strands of hair away from his face so they could get a better look. The white streak on his hair does look good on him, Void thought. Everything about the man intrigues him from the moment they met him till now. Someone who isn’t afraid to stand against them despite knowing their nature and what they are but also still somehow treats them as an equal and as a living human being. Not as a weapon like the rest did and not as a clone of the tyrant with the same face. But an equal. They wonder if Welt does treat Otto as an equal despite being enemies. Should they ask why? No, it’s a stupid question but Void was sure that Welt would answer them sincerely like he always does. The man is really good at giving confirmation,doesn’t he? What the hell.

Unbeknownst to them, Welt has slowly woken up from his slumber. The brunette opened his eyes to the blonde’s face as they were deep in thought. Welt blinked a few times before realising they were too close to each other and he was hugging the blonde’s arm. Yet he doesn’t pull away. He simply continues to lay there while hugging said arm. Slowly drifting back to sleep as he melts back onto his bed. It was incredibly nice. He hadn’t slept this well in years. Not to mention no nightmares! He felt well rested. Would Void allow him to use his arm again on a later night? It feels wonderful knowing that he could sleep this well just from having the other man with him. Though it might be a bit strain with their previous topic causing him to break all his walls in front of them but he knows as much as them. They couldn’t harm him even if they wanted to. And so, he will use the fact that they needed Welt for their plan as a leverage for his own gain. Even if that means his own mental state is in shambles. At least he could sleep well.

“...What are you thinking about?” He asked groggily, still half asleep. The sudden question made them jolted before meeting the sleepy man’s eyes staring back at him. It felt like they were caught doing something. “...n-nothing”. They answer with hesitation. “If it’s nothing, why did you stutter?” Welt chuckled as he watched the man slowly turn red from embarrassment. How amusing, he could cause this type of reaction from the blonde.”You!”. Welt laugh while snuggling closer to the blonde’s arm. Clinging to it and bringing his face to nuzzle against it.

Void couldn’t get mad with how the brunette suddenly laughed and snuggled closer to them. They decide to reciprocate the act instead rather than trying to find a comeback seeing how the brunette is somewhat half asleep. They wrap their free arm around Welt and pull him closer to his chest. “You’re not going to get up? It’s already morning”. The question goes unanswered as the brunette has already fallen back into slumber. They huffed before pulling the blanket to cover both of them. Void makes sure Welt is comfortable before pulling him closer until there is no gap between them. They went back to comb his hair softly before slipping away into his archive to find a book to read mentally while still keeping an eye on the man resting against his chest.

Welt woke up first this time. He was surrounded by odd warmth. Who would think a clone is warm? Then again he never knew much about soulium body to begin with. Welt did his best to detangle his body from Void. Carefully not to wake the man up. He propped his body up as best as he could. He watches the other man ‘sleeps’. Not exactly sure how but this felt more different than their usual self organising mode. This time it feels like they are actually sleeping. He was tempted to poke the other man's face as they were peacefully ‘sleeping’.

This man… looks different don’t they? How come? Their hair is spikier? And more fluff? Than the original. They have somewhat the same speaking manners but most of that have to do with their own imprisonment. His sense of clothing is also somewhat the same. Quite flamboyant actually. They are more childish than they like to lead on. It’s amusing how much Welt could do or say to get an interesting reaction out of the man. Do they know that Welt finds them extremely amusing? Welt thinks they would get offended if they knew what Welt thought of them.

This temporary companion of his is very interesting to him. Would they allow him to poke him around? Maybe have them do some sort of favour perhaps? Would they mind if he asked something about the archive? Maybe not. He shouldn’t really entertain that idea really if he doesn’t want to be tormented by the blonde. Knowing his behaviour. He sighs before looking back at the blonde only to be met with a pair of green eyes. “...Is there something you want to ask?” He tilted his head, questioning the blonde looking at him. The taller man yawned before patting his head. “Mm…nothing. What’s with you?” Void stretch their body a little before sitting up. Welt watches the man stretch before sitting up himself. He took a moment before facing Void once more. He breathed in as much air as he could before pushing it out.

“It was the only thing I have that gave me comfort’. Welt started. He crawled across Void to reach towards the other side table. Pulling on the drawers knob and retrieving the glove within before settling back to his original spot. He holds the glove near to his face before continuing. “You left the glove as a joke but truly, I don’t really see it as a joke. And I do in fact use it as a source of comfort. I had longed for my home ever since. Of course I enjoy each and every adventure the Express has given me but it won’t help with the loneliness and longing of comfort from what I call home. It would be a lie to say I miss my family, my son, everything. It would be a lie Void. And this glove right here” He holds the glove up towards Void. “This glove. The glove you jokingly gave while we spend most of our days stranded, is the one thing I found comfort in. Oddly enough. I’m not sure why of all things it was yours that gave comfort but it is and I have no proper reason to reject as much as I would like it.” With that, he ended. He let out a sigh of relief. He knows the others don’t really need to know but at the same time he knows them well enough that they would question it for a long while before they could let it go. Blame it on the extreme curiosity and their thirst to fill said curiosity.

They sat in silence for a moment. Welt cradling the glove toward his chest. Void Archive does not show any sign of emotion whatsoever for the time being. Welt let out a sigh. If the other isn’t responding he might as well get ready for the day. Though there isn’t much he can do since Himeko had forced him to take it easy for a couple of days as he had been stressing out about the kids being in danger again. Maybe he could catch up on his reading he had left yesterday.

Just as he was about to leave he pulled back toward the bed and was pinned down once more. Doesn’t he have enough getting pin down already? Void looming above him. Watching for any reaction that the brunette gave out. Yet there isn’t. His expression was soft and calm as he looked back into those green eyes. He still held the glove in his hand, not letting it go. Before Welt could say anything, Void linked both of their hands together effectively pushing the glove out of Welt’s hand before guiding Welt’s lips to theirs by the chin with his free hand. Slowly connecting their lips together. They expect Welt to push them back for the sudden act. They however did not expect the brunette to reciprocate. Welt is kissing them back. Soft lips touching theirs. The grip on their hand increases as the kiss deepens. Welt broke the kiss first for air only to be pulled back in roughly into another one. As a normal kiss deepens their tongue starts to intertwine with each other. Fighting for dominance in one another’s mouth.

When Void pulls back leaving a string of saliva connecting between two mouths, they caress the other man’s lip as they watch him trying to catch his breath after a heated kiss. And oh his expression is something Void would love to see more of. An expression of Welt’s face that they wished they knew long before. Such an adorable expression. Void wants more and Welt will have to give them more.

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#honkai star rail welt #welt yang #hsr welt #void archives #voidwelt

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