#fun fact i actually own that pair of jeans on the right

[beardedjoel]

do you have any inspiration pictures for blossom’s jackson overall outfit perchance? 🤭

these two photos inspired me to have her wear overalls in the first place. i was like i bet in the summer joel would love her in like a little bra and some baggy overalls or just the overalls and nothing else lmfaooo but i imagined the right photo very similar to what she had on in the story, just having the shirt in a pastel/faded pink color.

and then i imagined the pants kind of patchworky? like the vibe of the photos below - different toned pant legs and a few cute patches that whoever the previous owner was used to stich up a few holes or something. they were definitely a well loved pair of overalls before blossom got her hands on them 🥺

[visionandthebeast]

Honey, Honey (How he thrills me)

@bucktommypositivityweek round 2, day 1: make your own season 8 opening disaster. Read on ao3.

“How are you still so chipper?” Tommy groaned, trying not to rub any of his bee stings as Evan paused his chatter about every bee fact he had ever memorized in his life to unlock the door to his loft.

“Well, it’s not every day you find yourself facing off against a Bee-nado,” Evan tossed a grin over his shoulder as the door swung open. Lucky bastard only got stung once: on the chin.

"That was not a 'Bee-nado', Evan," Tommy griped as he dropped his bad next to the stairs, "It was a giant swarm. You would need an actual tornado for a bee-nado, and I'm pretty sure the winds would have killed the poor things".

Evan pulled a pair of beers out of the fridge, handing one to Tommy as they settled onto the stools by the island.

"Bee's are pretty good at surviving natural disasters. Though I think a lot of that is how they build their hives." Evan picked at the label on his bottle for a moment, thinking. "I wonder how protected artificial hives are. They're out in the open, right? if a heavy storm or tornado hits…"

"Maybe they have their own storm shelter. Beekeepers are pretty protective of their swarms." Tommy traded an amused grin with Evan, remembering the apiarist practically screaming at them when they recommended more permanent solutions to the giant swarm. Like flamethrowers.

"More likely they just don't have a lot of beekeepers in tornado alley."

"Oh, but imagine if they did. They could get some real bee-nados going," The playful glare Evan shot him at that looked so much like a disgruntled puppy Tommy just had to kiss him. No choice. Would have been a crime not to.

Unfortunately it had been a pretty long day, and the kiss was interrupted by Evan yawning.

"Mmmm. Maybe we should lie down." Evan murmured, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder.

Tommy held Evan for a few moments more, before pulling back, giving him one last peck on the lips.

"Go on, get yourself ready for bed. I'll be right up."

Evan made his way slowly up the stars to his bed. Exhaustion visible in the way he moved, the long day catching up to him now they were home safe. Picking up the beer bottles Tommy quickly dropped them in the recycling before grabbing his sleep shorts and a singlet out of his bag to change into.

Carefully folding his shirts and jeans, leaving them and his shoes downstairs, Tommy following his boyfriend to bed. Climbing underneath the covers he pulled Evan flush against himself, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Did you know bees actually have four wings? and five eyes." It took Tommy a moment to register the claim, the image conjured in his mind by Evan's words was pretty ridiculous.

"I'm going to need some details on that one, Evan. because what I'm picturing right now does not look like a bee."

"Well, the wings on each side hook together, so they look like one big wing. And the three middle eyes are a lot smaller than the compound eyes. I guess they're for depth perception? I didn't actually look that up."

"I can't believe you know so much about bees. I can't believe there's so much to know about bees." Tommy wondered in amazement.

"I think I'm all out now," Evan chuckled, wrapping his legs around Tommy's. "Apparently repeated bee stings can give you an allergy, even if you didn't have one before. We should probably avoid bees as much as possible from now on."

"Evan, If I see a bee again I'm running in the opposite direction. Allergy or no." Tommy snaked his arms beneath Evan's shirt, gently squeezing his belly. A sly grin bloomed on his face as Tommy thought of something. "I don't think I heard any facts about honey, just the bees themselves."

"Honey is an antibacterial," Evan shot off immediately, "Its used to treat minor burns even today."

"Hmm, I know my Honey is good for stopping burns," Tommy pressed another kiss to Evan's neck.

"Are you going to give me a compliment with every fun fact?" Evan asked.

"Until we fall asleep. Yeah." Curled up against his Evan's warm back, legs entwined and arms wrapped around his boyfriend's tummy, listening to him talk about bees and honey. Tommy couldn't think of a more peaceful place to be.

[hyewka]

dominating..ceo soobin….dominating CEO SOOBIN!!!

using his tie as bondage ..haha im normal about this haha..but hear me out!!!!! hes a total nepo baby, getting the ceo position because of his father. different than his older brother in the sense that he thinks following in the steps of his father is his duty, none of that sense of “carrying tradition” translates well to his work though bcs he effing fucks up virtually everything that he touches. terrible at his job (nobody really tells him though) that his father has to literally hire someone to take it upon themselves to make the right decisions..so basically he has his CEO title for show. terrible at negotiation but not at asserting his dominance in the work space lol has the face of steel, not cracking a smile at any formal work events (not everyone knows hes playing with the cuffs of his stupidly expensive suit behind his back).

networking networking..networking!!! you approached mr. choi for networking. like everybody else. being friends with your ceo is unlikely, but being friendly with him would give you some perks. itd be hard though, considering the reputation he holds (cold, aloof, distant…bleh). with your simple black dress paired with pearl accessories to compliment it and your glass of wine in hand, you walk up to the rigid man by the weirdly empty bar. soobin is…awkward, really awkward. stumbles around his words when he offers a longer response to you, definitely is unprofessional with the way he just cant hide the blush on his cheeks and the fact that he even mildly finds you attractive. okay so change of plans, you’re flirting with your boss. harmless fun, everyones sort of drunk and in their own world with their plus ones anyway. “what department do you work in?”

“mm, you’re quite a curious guy.” you hide the amused smile managing to break through at seeing how his eyes widen, looking like his brains working at hundreds of miles per hour, “i’m in marketing.”

“oh, i hope you don’t take this the wrong way—sorry if you feel uncomfortable with so many questions.”

“i don’t mind them, keep asking.” you were definitely crossing an invisible territory with the way you bat your lashes at him, swirling your drink, pushing your tits up..just a bit.

himbo soobin getting more tipsy by the minute, he definitely becomes a little loose, a lot more confident with his words, though more susceptible to your teasing remarks, getting flustered every time you decide to slur your voice and actually hold eye contact.

now imagine you end up pushing soobin in a bathroom definitely not meant to fit two, at the party where hundreds of your coworkers are present, and giving him a fucking …handjob. “the bathroom?” he whispers, shocked at his whereabouts. you don’t pay him much mind as you hurriedly unbuckle his jeans, “raise your hands.” you order.

when you realize he didn’t listen to you, you take it upon yourself to take untie his tie, to which he audibly complains, “wait no—my outfitttt..”

“do you want to get like, the handjob of your life or are you going to keep being a whiny bitch?”

you’re not sure where the surge of confidence comes from (considering he could fire you with the snap of his fingers), but it shuts him up. using his expensive tie to keep his hands restrained, arms up high while you play with the himbos dick, haha…im gonna pass because the way hed be sooo whiny, whimpers slipping through but even more so when you experiment with dirty talk to see how he reacts—trying an insult about his work ethic, and how everyone sees him as incompetent, destined to throw the company to the ground..oh yup, there it is, his dick’s reacting. beads of precum’s dribbling down his tip, and you coo having found what he likes. “mr. choi likes getting degraded? imagine if your subordinates found out…”

“don’t—don’t tell anybody..please” its barely a whisper through the gasps you pull out of him every sudden speed up on his girth, but you could pick up on it.

you could’ve reassured him that you won’t, his secrets safe with you, pathetic ceo who likes to be dominated by a woman?!?!! scandalous!!! you obviously wouldn’t tell anybody, and you’ll make sure to clear that up after this but…having some fun wouldn’t hurt. not when you’re already giving your boss a fucking handjob. “my mouths tight shut… if you follow through. no cumming unless i say so.”

[sleep-0-deprived]

Male yosano x Male reader, their first date and male yosano being male reader’s gay awakening.

Male Yosano x male reader first date~! (kinda short but I hope you like cause I had fun writing it) ૮꒰๑´ ᵕˋ๑꒱ა

WC:. 930

Tags: just mostly tooth rotting fluff, picnic dates, sexuality realization, first time boyfriends, vulnerable male reader ‹𝟹

A/N: I actually really liked this! I don’t do much fluff but every one needs some fluff in their lives ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🍒ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You sat on a subway train, sunlight streaming into your window shining next to where you sat. You kept running the thumb pad over your thigh trying to think about something else other than the fact you got asked out on a date by your purple haired co worker— well maybe it’s not even a date? He never specified that. What if it’s not a date and you were just reading it all wrong?

All you could think about was “is this a date or not! Do I want it to be a date?” You started over thinking everything that could happen, everything you wanted to happen. Feeling sick in your gut like you swallowed butterfly’s. The thought of this not being a date made your heart flair and swell before clenching up with sadness making you ready to burst like a water balloon being thrown.

Before anymore thoughts could fizz out the train had made its stop, standing up blank minded like a zombie walking past all of the other passengers getting off and onto the platform taking a deep breath in of japans spring air. The smell of baked goods at the cafe around the corner- the smell of the ripe peach trees on the outer edge of the city somehow felt innocent to you.

Then you saw him, Yosano standing with a smile at the other end of the platform holding a beige basket and a bouquet of perfectly bloomed daisy’s with cherry blossoms for accent setting a pink and white theme. “I hope I’m not late Yosano” a sheepish smile graced your face standing in an average pair of jeans and a light colored sweater.

“You’re fine [name], I was just early is all!” The purple haired man just smiled at you idly before handing you the flowers “I didn’t know what flowers you’d like so I just got the ones that reminded me of you most” taking the flowers from his hand as he guides you out of the train station area

Walking down the side walk of Yokohama with the sun hanging midway in the sky above whilst the clouds flowed by, Yosano’s hand holding the basket of the assorted food while reaching another hand over to hold yours. You feel giddy inside and embarrassed too as he makes a turn taking you into an older looking park.

The park was well kept but not pristine, a mother and daughter on a bench while a dog owner played with his dog but Yosano knew the perfect little spot for the two of you. Down a narrow little path behind the park where a bunch of grown up vines and tall weeds stood he’d pull you along to a secluded spot by the river bay sitting next to a tall oak tree just out of view from the rest of the park.

“This is a nice spot” you try to start a conversation and get your mind off of the internal panic you were having, Yosano putting down a blanket on the grass for the two of you with before sitting his picnic basket down in the middle taking a seat next to it and looking up at you “yeah, I remember in high school I used to go to this park a lot, when I found this spot it became my own little sanctuary”

“Sorry if this seems random, but what exactly is this?..what are we even?” You blurt out unable to take it feeling on edge looking at Yosano when you sit down on the blanket watching him silently when he sits right across from you. I mean sure you and him work

Closely together, ear lunch in the armed detective agency together, share sideway glances from your cubical when no one can see, but that didn’t mean anything right? You always thought of it as an admiration for your work senior but you couldn’t deny the thought of being more felt comforting.

“Well it’s a date obviously, and as for what are we, I hope by the end of the day you’ll say you’re my boyfriend” the purplette says with a confident smile while opening up the picnic basket and getting all the food he packed out. A trey of rice balls and various small sandwiches sitting on trees when he sits them on the top of the picnic basket and sits them between the two of you.

“I’ve never been with a man before Yosano, I don’t even know if I like men….but something about you makes me go crazy” you whisper out in return looking at him while reaching for a rice ball and taking a bite silently not knowing you just described a crush to him. “Well whatever we are or aren’t, I’d like to be something with you and I’m willing to take as long as we need to work [name]”

Yosano placed his hand on top of the hand resting in your lap and rubs his thumb over the knuckle quietly comforting you and being calm about the confusion. “I think I wanna try dating Yosano, you mean a lot t’me and I think I like you more than friendly” the sound of a small clap came from Yosano.

“We’ll take things slow all right baby? I want you to be comfortable” he coos gently to you just smiling softly and staying close to you for the rest of the time. Conversation after conversation making you forget why you ever doubted it. Yosano has a way of rubbing off his confidence onto you easing your nerves.

“Thank you Yosano”

[asherthehimbo]

Outliving the stars | Choi San

synopsis: You've always felt a part of you was missing, the desire for something greater only being lessened when you were gazing at the stars. You know you lost something, someone, you just dont remember what, who. Maybe the astrology major your friend sent you on a blind date with has the answers.

Pairing: Choi San x Male!reader

Info: one shot, words(2.1K),

Trope: reincarnation, Immortal x mortal, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of nightmares, anxiety, topic of death, suggestive jokes, it's said they have sex but no actual smut, injuries, birthmarks shaped like scars, insecurity, self scrutinizing, social anxiety, overthinking, talks of past lives

Song inspo: Burn out the stars - Bryce savage

It was at times like these that you wished you could punch your best friend. Wooyoung was sweet, but you swear he had it out for you, sending you out on a blind date with nothing but a first name. Now you were standing at the planetarium entrance like an idiot waiting for someone you didn't even know.

Wooyoung had pesterd you for three weeks until you finally gave in. He kept trying to set you up with one of his classmates, and you were too tired to register what you were agreeing to. "Come on [Name], you can't keep being hung up on some mystery guy from your dreams. San, on the other hand is perfect, broad shoulders, an astrology major, rich, handsome face, smooth voice and he's kind" Wooyoung rambled on as you were sitting in your dorm, trying to finish the economics paper you had that was due on Friday.

"Do you want me to go out with this guy, or do you want to do so yourself?" You asked him, only receiving a pillow to your face as a response. Sighing, you looked at Wooyoung, who was taking up your entire bed. "If I go on this date, would you let me finish my paper in silence?"

Wooyoung immediately jumped up from the bed. "YES, OKAY YAY!I'm gonna go tell San you agreed! Oh! This is gonna be so much fun! SATURDAY 1PM SHARP, " Wooyoung shouted while jumping around before sharply turning on his heel to sprint out of the room, leaving with a shout of "WEAR THOSE CUTE JEANS I BOUGHT YOU!"

You only sighed, turning back to your paper and relishing in the silence.

You did, in fact, end up wearing the jeans he bought you, black baggy jeans with white stars splattered on them, matched with your red converse, and a red hoodie.

You did not want to be here, it was cold, people were staring (probably because of the scar on your face, a voice in your head told you, you ignored it) and you were craving a strawberry refresher. You guess arriving an hour early wasn't the best course of action, but you were up early, not being able to sleep the night before.

Dreams of your faceless lover had once again plagued your mind. It had been a common occurrence ever since you turned 10. You would be cuddled up in the arms of a man you could not remember, but you knew him. In a soft grass field he would be holding you tightly, you would both be watching the stars, you listening as he points out different constellations, these dreams were safe, they made you feel at ease.

But all too often, these dreams would evolve into nightmares, the same 7 scenes playing out. Your therapist had said it must have been a physiological way to deal with your own insecurities. The birthmarks that littered your skin had always looked like scars. You remember talking to her when you were 12. She said it was your brain trying to justify the marks, trying to create a story for them.

You believed her. After all, she knew better, but these dreams just felt so real, so vivid. You would hear your own heartbeat slow down and hear the cries of your mystery lover as he holds onto you. You could feel the tears dripping from his face onto yours. No matter what turn these nightmares had, they always ended with you dying in his arms.

You guess Wooyoung had been right in his concern, as your best friend he knew first hand the effect these dreams had on you. The nights you wake up gasping for air, vomiting out your dinner, clawing at your neck because something in your throat is burning. The times you're awake while your consciousness is still trapped in whatever nightmare you were experiencing. He had been there since the age of 10, he had been there.

You rubbed together the two sleeves of your hoodie, starting to feel more uncomfortable as time passed by. People were walking past, laughing, and giggling at one another. You wondered what was so funny, what were they all laughing at? Were they laughing at you? no, you didn't do anything funny, did you? oh, it's your face, right? Your face is funny, it's ugly, creepy, the scar covering your eye, one you did not deserve. A mutated freak born with scars that were not earned a fake, a- "[Name]?" A hand on your shoulder disrupts your anxiety fueled thoughts.

You turn around to find a black haired man, he's a little shorter than you, although his shoulders are broad. Jawline sharp, eyes as soft as a warm blanket on a winter's night, despite the intimidating structure of the man, his eyes, his smile, his dimples, he seems inviting, familiar almost.

He stands smiling at you, the arm he used to grab your attention is hovering awkwardly in the air, his cheeks are flushed, a pink matching one of the familiar drinks in his hand. "Umm, I'm San? your date. " he seems unsure of himself, but you find it cute, having to suppress a giggle so as to not make him feel bad.

You give him a small smile as you mentally thank Wooyoung for choosing someone good looking,"Nice to meet you, San." You nod your head at him as you shift your weight between your feet. You're being so awkward right now, but something tells you that San doesn't mind.

Despite your lack of social skills, the interaction itself does not seem awkward. Although you can feel something straining it, you brush it off to first date jitters. "Oh!um I also got us some drinks, Wooyoung said you liked strawberry refreshes, although I don't know if he was messing with me. He has a tendency to do that lately, but um drink?" San asks as he lifts up the hand, holding two drinks questioningly. His shoulders seem to tense as he awaits your reaction.

"Woo didn't lie, I do like Strawberry refreshers, thank you" you nod your head at him, his shoulders relax as he lets out a breath of relief, he picks up the pink drink from the holder in his hand and gives it to you. Your fingers touch for a moment as you take the drink from him and you jump back a little, San doesn't seem all that surprised, but he chuckles "Static electricity's a bitch, huh?"

You don't think that's how it works, but you laugh along nonetheless. It's weird as you walk with San into the planetarium. You don't like new people, don't feel comfortable around them, yet with San, it's different. You feel safe with him. He feels so familiar.

You spend the day following San around the planetarium, he excitedly points out constellations, and you swear the fake stars above your head shine dimmer than the light in Sans eyes. Somewhere along the line, your hand had been intertwined with his, as a precaution to not lose one another, you told yourself.

The date ends when the sky outside matches the one in the planetarium, a dark purple background with little specks of light twinkling above you both. The date lasted the whole day and you were having so much fun you didn't even realize, Wooyoungs gonna kill you for not telling him how everything went immediately but you can't find it in yourself to care about the headache your best friend will inevitably give you tomorrow morning.

That night, you sit on your bed, smiling down at the goodnight text from San, despite him having wished you a goodnight merely a few hours before when he walked you to your dorm. That night is the first night you sleep peacefully, no dreams of your mystery lover, no dieing, no waking up in a cold sweat despite it being winter. Nothing

Instead that night you sleep, cuddled up with the tiny red star plushie that San won for you at one of the planetarium games, you named her 'astéri' the greek word for star. Also, the exact name you put as your contact for the man who won her for you.

Your relationship with San had been a fast development, one date, then two, then you start eating lunch together, he starts walking you to classes, he joins your friends and you on movie nights, he plays games with Yunho. San becomes a part of your life faster than you can imagine, and you don't even care.

It's on your hundred day anniversary, a hundred days of dates and hangouts, and obviously being together despite no official title, that San officially asks you to be his boyfriend.

It's an emotional ordeal. He made a picnic in his backyard, creating a fort where you could both lay down and watch the stars on the soft grass. It's summer now, much hotter than when you first met, you wear a red tank top. San has expressed his love for your collarbones before, and thinking back to the moment makes you blush.

He was a bit tipsy when he blurted it out, face flushed pink given the alcohol of the drinking game he had played with your friends earlier, the room was hot, filled with college boys and liquor, so of course you took off your jacket, San had started cheering, then giggling, talking about how much he liked your neck, your collarbones. You don't know if he remembers this moment, you hope he doesn't, it would save you the embarrassment.

San presents you with a necklace on the night of his confession, a black leather strap threaded through a red star that's rimmed with silver. On the back of the necklace, the name 'astéri' is carved, under it lies numbers which look like coordinates. You don't ask.

San slips the necklace around your neck, fingers trailing dangerously slow along your shoulders. You were scared at first, you liked San, loved him, as much as you trusted him, you were scared of what his reaction would be.

He may have seen you in strappy clothing before, but he's never seen the extent to which your birthmarks your scars cover your body. The worst of them were located on your waist.

Despite your hesitance, the way San looks at you after you agree to be his, after you agree to let him be yours, it makes you want to kiss him, let him embrace every part of you and let you do the same to him.

He looks at you like you yourself were the star and who were you to deny a mortal access to a celestial entity?

That night, you learn the true extent of San's love for you, the way he trails his fingers overy every inch of your skin, extra soft kisses placed on the marks littering your body, he's gentle almost as if he knows the phantom pains they bring you, despite you never having told him.

That night you and San become, you and San, under the stars. On the soft blanket he laid out in his backyard as the warm wind of summer nips at your exposed skin.

It's when you're lying down, breathless, in between San's arms that he starts talking, answering your question from earlier that night. The numbers on the back of the necklace, the coordinates, are of a star San bought in your name. He literally bought you a star and named it 'astéri'.

"You deserve the whole galaxy, and yet I do not have the power to retrieve it for you. This way, you can have a piece of the outer world, and it can have a piece of you"

You don't think you've ever felt so loved in your life. You had fallen for San so quickly, so hard. It's hard to imagine a time when he wasn't in your life, despite the fact that you hadn't known him long, everything with him just felt so right.

You were sure you were meant to be with San in every lifetime, meant to spend every moment of your life with him. When you told him this, it had been the first time you ever saw him cry, genuinely cry. It was as if your words affected him more than you knew. You're sure they did.

That's one thing you never did understand about San, he has told you everything about himself, but you still felt as if something was missing, a piece of information locked away, it was like he was guarding it, scared you would find out. He thought he hid it well, but you prided yourself on knowing people, knowing your boyfriend. You trusted him. He would tell you when he was ready.

You and San would watch the stars burn out together, watch the world fall in each others arms, protected by a love so pure that the only thing left in the universe would be you and San

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland @itsvxlentine @liyatime @hetalia-pol @mommahwa1117

Home page | Ateez masterlist

[psychedelic-pebble]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Warnings: NSFW content - mdni.

Pairing(s): College!Stanford Pines x Reader

Summary: You hate parties, but somehow get roped into the biggest one at Backupsmore University. Luckily for you, things take a turn in your favor.

If there’s one thing you’ve always hated, it was parties. They’re crowded, stuffy, and loud. But this was college, and despite your evident discomfort around them, you’re easily peer pressured. You received an invitation to a house party, a house that one of the rich kids owned. His parents were gone for the weekend, and no matter how hard you protested, you were somehow roped into going.

Apparently, they didn’t really care who they invited; they just wanted to have a lot of people there. You don’t actually have that many friends to go with; in retrospect, you actually only had one friend at college, who happened to be the reason you were roped into this whole ordeal.

You don’t know what to wear; you don’t really go to parties. You don’t “party.” You decide to keep on your day clothes: ripped jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. Sitting at the couch of your dorm thinking of any excuse to ditch, you hear a knock at your door. Fuck. Too late. You begrudgingly open the door and smile awkwardly.

“Hey, Fidds.” You give a nervous half-smile, placing a hand on the base of your neck.

“Hey! Ya decide not to back out after all?” Fiddleford, AKA your only friend at uni, beams at you. He’s also not dressed in anything fancy: just his normal sweater and jeans.

“Too late to back out now anyway.” You sigh, closing and locking the door behind you. You place your keys in your pocket and follow him down the hallway. “I’m not really the partying type, you know.”

He gives your shoulder a light punch. “Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun!” He leans down a little, just enough to lower his voice and whisper, “Plus, I dragged Ford inta coming.”

You’re not as close to Ford as he was, but Fiddleford could definitely tell how you felt about his roommate. He was pretty much the only one you’d opened up to about your feelings towards Stanford. You two were friends, but not much more than that.

As soon as you hear Fiddleford say that, you choke a little and glare at him.

“You didn’t.”

“I sure did! It’ll give y’all a better chance to get to know each other, too!” God, if it weren’t for the fact he was your friend, you would’ve strangled this farm boy.

With a rough clearing of your throat, you two begin walking down to the house where this party is supposed to be happening. It isn’t far from campus, maybe a fifteen minute walk. Most of it is spent making idle chit-chat with Fiddleford and talking about trivial things.

You can tell this is the right house from the get-go, if the blaring music is anything to go by. Looking around the small crowd scattered around the front lawn, you make out a figure standing by the curb seemingly waiting for you. It hits you that it’s Stanford after a moment, and you feel your face embarrassedly flush. He grins and approaches the two of you.

“Hey, you made it!” He smiles at you and Fiddleford, keeping both hands in his pockets. “I was starting to wonder if you had set me up.”

Fiddleford laughs, sparking up a conversation while you silently panic and stare off into space. Ford was wearing a white button down that hugs his form a little too nicely, and a pair of black slacks. You find yourself idly staring at his chest more than once.

God, you need a drink.

“Hey, uh, not to be a buzzkill and ruin the curb-party,” you say, disappointed with the way your voice wavers, “but shouldn’t we head inside?”

Both men stop their conversation and nod at you. You give an awkward grin in return and start walking inside, with both of them following suit. You push open the front door and immediately your ears are assaulted by the blaring music; you wince and continue forward, trying not to let it overwhelm you just yet.

“I’ll, uh, just be over here.” You gesture towards the drinks, trying your best to play it cool.

“Sounds good. We’ll be here if ya need us.” Fiddleford winks at you and you flash him an uneasy smile in return.

Your feet move faster than your thoughts, and before you know it you’re pouring yourself a drink, with more alcohol than juice. Just to ease the nerves a little, you think. You take a large swig from your red plastic cup, choking a little but swallowing it down and coughing loudly. This really was not going to be a good night for you.

As the party continued, you basically just hover around from corner to corner trying to find your friends. They’ve completely disappeared, and it didn’t help that you were more than a little tipsy.

“Hey!” Some girl suddenly shouts, causing everyone in the room to turn around to find the source of the call. “We’re playin’ seven minutes in heaven, who wants in?”

Great. You really don’t want to stick around for that, but before you know it, you’re being dragged along with the crowd. You stumble, clumsily looking around before realizing everyone is starting to sit in a circle. It’s too late to leave without further embarrassing yourself, so you sit too. You look around nervously, trying to take in the options for who you might be forced into a closet with. Your heart drops when you see Stanford sitting right across from you on the other side of the room, right next to Fidds. He looks just as nervous as you feel. You’re regretting going to this party more and more.

“A’ight, here’s the rules!” The girl from earlier yells, grabbing an empty beer bottle and holding it up. “We spin this and whoever it lands on has to go into that closet together.”

You are not drunk enough for this.

A couple rounds pass with most people opting to flirt, talk, or make out in the closet and then it's suddenly your turn. You’re passed the bottle and stare at it with malice, clutching it in your hands before the crowd starts urging you on to spin it. You notice Ford looking at you; he gives an awkward smile and looks away.

Okay, fuck it, you think. You place the bottle down and give it a good spin, and once it slows to a stop, you follow the direction of the neck and freeze. Once again, Stanford. Fucking, Pines. What are the chances??

You swallow nervously and look around at everyone, wondering if it’d be too late to back out. Fiddleford gives Stanford a shove, causing him to stumble forward a bit and look at you. He gives you a nervous look, standing up and waiting for you to follow.

Despite everything screaming for you to run, flee, and get away, you stand up and brush yourself off. You wobble a little with the alcohol in your body still prevalent. You’re suddenly being shoved towards the closet before you can protest, with Ford not far behind having Fidds pushing him on.

You’re both pushed into the closet and the door shuts behind you. You let out an embarrassed groan as your eyes adjust to the dark. You can make out Ford standing close by, fidgeting with a button on his shirt. There was barely enough room for both of you to fit in here.

“Ford,” you sigh, defeated, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even come out tonight.”

He looks at you and swallows nervously. “It’s okay, I know Fidds probably pressured you like he did with me. People like us don’t get invited to parties very often.”

It's deafeningly silent for a few moments while you gather your thoughts.

“You don’t seem like the partying type.” You shrug, leaning back against the wall.

“Neither do you,” he laughs, “yet here we are.”

You’re so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Seems like he’s been drinking too. Your face burns a little; thank god it’s dark in here.

“What do you want to do?” Ford asks, leaning against the other wall.

“What is there to do in this situation?” A sigh escapes you and you can’t help but cover your face. “Most people get drunk and have drunk sex in a closet. It's stupid.”

Ford grimaces and looks away. “Even if it’s someone they don’t know. I mean, at least we know each other, and I wouldn’t be completely opposed to it, but-“ He cuts himself off. Oh God.

You feel like you’re gonna explode. What did he just say?? The two of you share a flustered glance and you bite your lip in thought.

“Stanford, I, uh.” You try to think of something, anything to say. He grits his teeth and covers his face in shame.

“Sorry. I think the alcohol is getting to me.” He frowns, dragging a hand down his face.

You can’t think of anything to say, so you let your body speak for you. You walk forward and grab his button down, yanking him down into you and smashing your lips into his. He squeaks in surprise with his hands trembling and hovering just above your hips. You pull away and look at him, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you mumble, backtracking and attempting to pull away.

His hands find your waist suddenly and pull you closer, a huff escaping him when you press up against his torso. “It’s- It's fine.”

You share an embarrassed look, and you feel him shift nervously, but he doesn’t let go. You look down and your jaw almost falls off; he’s completely hard in his slacks.

“Holy shit.” You breathe, looking back up at him. Ford averts his gaze to the other side of the closet, slightly releasing his hold on your hips, but before he completely lets go you decide to let yourself be bold. “Want me to uh, help with that?”

He blinks and turns back to you, seemingly taken aback. “What do you-?”

Not giving him a chance to answer, you reach your hands down and fumble with his belt. He flinches slightly, obviously not used to the contact, and you stop, looking back at him.

“Is that okay?” You bite the inside of your lip nervously, wondering if you’ve just screwed the whole thing up.

“I mean, I, uh.” He sighs and lets out a small groan. “I don’t really do flings. I want there to be something behind it.”

“What if there is something behind this?” The words come out faster than you can think them over. Ford feels his breath catch in his throat and he looks at you with an almost pleading expression.

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m in love with you, dumbass.” You laugh nervously, attempting to downplay the situation.

Stanford swears under his breath and looks everywhere but you. “I, uh, I have feelings for you too.”

Your heart swells in your chest and you grin dumbly, clumsily unbuckling his belt with shaking hands. You look up at him with an expression that asks, “is this okay?” and Ford looks down at you and nods his head.

“Please, I need you.” That's all it takes for you to sink down to your knees and pull his slacks down along with his boxers. His dick nearly smacks you in the face as it springs out of his boxers, already hard and leaking. You hadn’t even touched him yet.

“Oh, wow, uh,” your breath hitches and you blink a couple times, “that's, wow, haha.”

He covers his face with a hand embarrassedly, too scared to look down at you. You smile at his shyness, determined to break it and make him into a mess for you.

You wrap a hand around his cock and give an experimental tug, causing him to hiss through gritted teeth and whimper softly. You think over your options, eventually landing on taking it further and wrapping your mouth around him. You take the head into your mouth and he straight up moans, slapping a hand over his mouth and running the other through your hair.

“Shit,” you hear him whisper, trying to keep himself quiet so as to not alert anyone else at the party, “that’s- God, that’s good.”

Your chest swells with pride and you take him a little deeper, experimentally pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock. His hand trembles and grips your hair. You pull away , looking up at him.

“You can be rough, Ford. It’s okay.” You pant, taking him back into your mouth. He nods and moves his hips forwards ever so slightly while gently pushing the back of your head trying not to hurt you. How cute.

You move suddenly, taking the whole thing down your throat, and he lets out a strangled cry, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his bottom lip to try and quiet himself. He can’t help himself anymore; he fucks your mouth a little harder and begins moving your head with his hand; you don’t mind.

He’s never felt this way before; his heart is pounding and he feels like he’s on fire. He can’t control himself; his fingers grip your hair hard and pull you down onto him while he starts fucking your throat like he’s gone feral. You place both hands on his thighs while he does so, feeling the way they tense and relax with every thrust.

The noises he’s making go straight through you, causing you to heat up and moan around him. The vibration makes him groan and fuck your throat faster- he’s getting close, you can tell.

“C..Can I cum in your mouth?” He asks shakily, slowing his thrusts to give you a chance to respond.

You nod feverishly around him; you let him take control as he loses himself and shoves your head down in a fast-paced rhythm while thrusting his cock into your mouth. The whine he lets out is downright pornographic, biting down on the palm of his hand to silence it while he shoves himself as deep as possible and cums down your throat. You nearly choke but manage to keep it together as you feel it down your throat, filling your mouth and dripping down your chin.

He stays there for a second before pulling back to let you breathe, and you cough slightly at the movement. You wipe off your mouth with your sleeve, not caring if it’s gross at the moment.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Stanford leans down and places a hand on your shoulder. You shake your head.

“No, just not used to that.” You weakly say, your throat still raw.

It’s just then that you realize there’s been someone banging on the door for the past few minutes that neither of you picked up on.

“It’s been like, fifteen minutes, are y’all okay?”

It’s Fiddleford’s voice. You and Stanford exchange a glance and you stifle a laugh.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” You call back, standing up and brushing yourself off. Stanford fumbles with his pants, pulling them up and tucking himself back into his boxers. You open the door and look at Fiddleford with a sheepish grin, while Stanford exits the closet behind you and clears his throat. Fiddleford raises an eyebrow and looks at the both of you. Everyone else at the party is staring.

“Y’all look like hell.” He jokes and punches Stanford’s shoulder gently. “What’d y’all get up to in there anyway?”

You glance away and Stanford gives him an awkward smile. You hear the crowd watching you collectively give an “ooooh!”

“You don’t wanna know.” You eventually manage to say. Fidds gives you a knowing look and grins.

“Y’all together now?” He crosses his arms and surveys the both of you.

Stanford shrugs, looking at you and back to Fiddleford.

“I guess you could say that.” You laugh a little, shoving your hands in your sweatshirt pockets. You’re gonna have to wash it when you get home.

Thanks for reading!! I also uploaded this on AO3 if you’d like to read it there.

divider creds to @cafekitsune !!

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

cute

pair: tom!Peter Parker x reader

summery: Peter tries to ask y/n(she/her) out but he gets all flustered and shy and stumbles in words a lot but she thinks it's cute

masterlist | navigation

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Peter Parker was not nervous. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he wiped his clammy hands on his jeans for the hundredth time. It was just Y/N. Y/N, who he’d known for years. Y/N, who had the best laugh and always knew when he needed a little extra help in math. Y/N, who was sitting right in front of him, completely unaware that Peter’s heart was doing somersaults.

He could totally do this. He had to do this. After all, it wasn’t like he could keep accidentally spilling his feelings during every awkward conversation they had. She glanced up from her notebook, her lips curling into a soft smile as she caught him staring. “Hey, you good, Peter?”

“Y-yeah!” he stammered, his voice coming out a little too high. “Totally! Why wouldn’t I be good? I’m great, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised slightly, amusement flickering across her face. She had that effect on him — making him feel both comfortable and utterly flustered at the same time.

Peter bit his lip, silently urging his brain to function. It wasn’t like he was trying to ask her to solve a quantum physics equation. All he needed to do was ask her out. Simple. Easy. Just six words: “Do you want to go out?”

But of course, nothing with Peter Parker was ever that simple.

“So, um, Y/N,” he began, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I was thinking... or, well, not thinking — I mean, I do think. A lot, actually. But, uh, I’ve been, you know, noticing things. Like, um, we’ve been friends for a long time, right? And, uh, I was wondering if— if maybe, like, sometime if you’re not too busy, or, um, even if you are busy, I mean, I’d understand if you are — I mean, you’re always busy, not that it’s a bad thing! You’re just really... uh... organized? No, that’s not the word…”

Y/N blinked, watching him with that same gentle smile, patiently waiting for him to continue. Peter felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

“But what I’m trying to say is,” he inhaled sharply, his heart hammering in his chest, “would you— do you want— would you maybe want to, like, do something? With me? Together? As in... not as friends... I mean, we can still be friends, obviously! I just... like, more than friends?”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, cringing at his own stumbling. This was going horribly. Why couldn’t he just speak like a normal human being?

When he finally dared to open his eyes, Y/N’s expression hadn’t changed. She was still smiling, her gaze warm and kind, but there was something else there too. Something soft and almost... endeared?

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Was she laughing at him?

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. “That was a mess. I’ll just—”

“Peter,” Y/N interrupted gently.

He froze, his hands still half-covering his face as he peeked at her through his fingers. “Y-yeah?”

“Are you trying to ask me out?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, though her eyes were filled with nothing but kindness.

Peter felt his entire face flush. “Y-yes?”

Her smile widened, and she tilted her head slightly, biting back a laugh. “And you want me to say yes, right?”

He nodded furiously, mentally kicking himself for being so obvious.

“Well...” Y/N paused, dragging out the silence just enough to make his heart race even more. “In that case, yes. I’d love to.”

Peter blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with her words. “Wait... really?”

She laughed softly, reaching out to gently nudge his shoulder. “Yes, really. I think it’d be fun. You know, us... together. Not as just friends.”

For a moment, Peter could only stare at her, his mind trying to process the fact that she had just said yes. She said yes. She wanted to go out with him. His heart was doing backflips again, but this time, it felt more like excitement than nervousness.

“I— Wow, okay!” he blurted out, a huge, goofy grin spreading across his face. “I mean, that’s awesome. Really awesome. I didn’t mess it up?”

Y/N shook her head, that familiar sparkle in her eyes. “You didn’t mess anything up, Peter. You’re kinda cute when you get all flustered.”

His heart just about exploded at that, and he quickly glanced away, trying — and failing — to hide the growing blush on his cheeks. “R-really?”

She nodded, biting her lip as if she was holding back more teasing remarks. “Yep. But next time, you can just ask, you know? No need for the whole word jumble.”

“I’ll remember that,” Peter mumbled, still grinning like an idiot.

As they sat there, with the comfortable silence settling between them, Peter couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. He didn’t know how he’d managed to pull this off, but somehow, he had. And when he finally worked up the courage to glance back at her, Y/N was still smiling at him like she knew something he didn’t — like maybe, just maybe, she’d felt the same way all along.

This was going to be the start of something amazing. He just knew it.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐎𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 5.6k

chapter summary: With Sarah at a sleepover, you, Joel and Tommy get together late to paint the now empty room, but with a distressing call from Sarah, Joel leaves to pick her up. You're just surprised as him when Sarah asks for you specifically. Later on, you accidentally see something that was meant for Asha's eyes only.

warnings: sarah gets her period for the first time so first-time period talk, nude photo (joel's), female masturbation (reader), feelings of loneliness (reader)

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

It’s been two weeks since Asha became a part of Joel’s life. They were more similar to what he initially had thought. For starters, neither of them talked about their families or upbringings. It was from Tommy that Joel learned that her parents still resided in India and that she came here alone, unsupported for the most part. 

Joel, however, didn’t really have much family to talk about even if he wanted to. He only had Tommy and Sarah. He mentioned them a total of two times; one because Sarah got sick at school and he had to go and get her, meaning he had to cancel his lunch with Asha. And the second was when he showed up late one night with a black eye due to Tommy getting under the skin of the wrong crowd. That night he had thought of going to you instead, but then decided against it. The next day he learned that you cleaned up Tommy’s wounds— it shouldn’t have made his heart twinge with jealousy, but it did.

They used each other, Joel and Asha, at least that was what he felt, and it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They enjoyed each other's company, had fun together, slept together. She made him aware of things that he wasn’t even aware of and vice versa. Asha never had the desire to talk about the future or asked to come over. Her apartment was just fine, and they often met up there instead of anywhere else. She never asked about his personal life. 

But that all changed as Joel was driving her from work to her home. 

“Tommy talks a lot about this girl,” she muses, smiling lightly. “Your neighbor I think? He came and ask me for room decor tips, it was cute.” 

“That’s the one,” Joel answers, shifting in his seat. “I knew he wasn’t clever enough to think of all of that on his own.” 

“He did come up with the color himself, so it wasn’t all me.” 

“He’s been braggin’ a lot, it’s annoyin’” 

She presses a hand on his thigh, squeezing, she drags her fingers up the seam of his jeans. “Come on, Joel. He’s just happy. I think she’s good for him.” 

“They’re both good for each other.” he nods, ignoring her hand resting right below his pelvis. “I’m actually heading there after dropping you off, you wanna come? I’m sure she’ll appreciate more female company.” 

She laughs and pulls her hand back to her lap, “Just because we both have vaginas doesn’t mean we’ll get along,” Asha hums, pulling her bag up from between her legs. “However, I do think we would get along. Sadly, I have an assignment due and need to finish at least most of it before you come over.” 

“Ah that’s right,” he pouts, annoyed at himself. “Sorry I forgot.” 

“It’s okay, I forget half the things you do.” 

“Is that normal for couples?”

She mulls over his question for a while, lips moving from side to side, a tick that she did whenever she was cooking up something clever. Then she stills, a wide smile spreading across her face. 

“I think for us it is.” 

Joel couldn't agree more, to be honest. He taps his thumbs against the steering wheel, pulling into her drive-thru. She quickly presses her lips into his cheekbone and he returns in like. Before she leaves, Asha’s hand stills at the handle, briefly turning to him. 

“By the way did you do that thing I asked you?” 

“Fuck,” he heaves out, letting his head drop. “I did, but I forgot it at home. I’ll bring it later tonight, promise.” 

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath, Joel Miller,” she grins. “Who’s looking after Sarah?” 

“She’s staying at her friends' tonight. Girls' night. She forced me to bake brownies.” 

“Never pinned you down for a chef.” 

“I’m not. We burned the first tray.” 

You're feeling unreasonably happy. It’s a welcomed feeling, a soft tingle that starts from your toes, blossoms across your skin, and ends at your lips, forming a sheepish smile. You’re leaning against the doorframe looking at the now-empty room. You and Tommy had spread newspaper all over the floor, both of you wearing your scrappiest of clothes. 

Tommy opens a can of paint and starts mixing it with a wooden stick. 

“What are you doing that for?” 

Tommy turns to you, a grin on his face. "Well sweetheart, we can't just slap this paint on the walls. We need to mix it thoroughly to get the perfect consistency. This ain’t like one of your paintings."

You tilt your head, your eyebrow raising, an amused smile blossoms over your lips. "First of all, we do need consistency too. And what's the perfect consistency to paint a wall? It’s a wall, shouldn’t be that hard."

Tommy dips the wooden stick into the can and lifts it out, letting the excess paint drip back into the can. "It should be smooth and creamy, not too thick and not too thin. You don't want it to be runny, or it will drip all over the place, but if it's too thick, it won't spread evenly."

He starts stirring the paint in a circular motion, his wrist moving in a steady rhythm. The sound of the stick scraping against the bottom of the can fills the room, creating a soothing hum.

"As you mix the paint," he continues, "you should periodically lift the stick out of the can and let the paint drip back in. That way, you can see if it's the right consistency. If it's too thick, you can add a bit of water to thin it out, and if it's too thin, you can add a bit more paint."

You nod, taking mental notes. "Got it. Smooth and creamy.” 

Tommy grins. "Exactly, creamy is preferable. It responds better."

Your cheeks heat up at the response. Something about the way he rolls his tongue over the words make goosebumps rise on your skin, a tender shiver coursing through your body. With a soft shudder, you wrap your arms around yourself. 

“When do you think Joel is coming over?” 

“Don’t know. I think he’s with Asha.” 

“Asha,” you repeat, no emotion behind the words but still, you feel the corner of your lips quivering. “Do they get along well?” 

Tommy shrugs and slowly gets up, “I guess. Joel isn’t really the type to kiss and tell you know? And Asha…well, I guess it’s safe to say she’s pretty much the same.” 

“Basically perfect for each other.” 

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t go that far,” Tommy answers, scratching the back of his head. “Being so similar ain’t always a good thing.” 

Silence follows and you can vaguely hear a car pulling in next door, must be Joel. Thoughts wildly swirling in your head, you want to take this opportunity to ask about Sarah’s mother, something Joel never talks about, and also something Sarah never mentiones. You lick your lips, nails digging into your forearms. 

“Does it bother you?” 

The question takes you by surprise, you blink before answering. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Does it bother you that he’s with someone?” 

You try to keep your shock to a minimum. Tommy’s gaze reminds you of the yellow gaze of a hawk, piecing, overly observant. You swallow and let out a laugh with a desperate need to lighten the heavy air circling you both. You shake your head, walking up to Tommy, you give him a gentle pat with the back of your hand. 

“Why would that bother me? I’m just making conversation.” 

Tommy’s shoulders relax, dropping substantially. You’re surprised you hadn’t noticed how tense he was before. 

“Sorry, I was just thinkin’ too much.” 

Before you can answer a loud knock startles you both. “Must be Joel. 

“You go, I’ll open the rest of the cans.” 

Joel looks out of breath when you open the door for him, his chest heaves and he staggers forward, bracing himself by holding both knees. 

“Didn’t mean to be late,” he says. “But I brought whiskey.” 

“Is that why you went to your place first?” 

He closes the door behind him, “You heard that?” 

“Saw the lights.” 

You notice a magazine in his hands but fail to see the title, it’s rolled up. In the other he has the bottle and you take it from him, heading to the kitchen, he follows. 

“I also had to pick up somethin’ I promised Asha. I’m meetin’ up with her after this.” 

Your chest tightens and you roll your shoulders to ground yourself before reaching to get three glasses. “Isn’t that going to be late?” 

“I ain’t five.” he answers with a low chuckle. “But yeah it’s late but she has work to do and I promised you lot I’d be here.” 

“You didn’t have to come. You can go.” 

You wince at your own wording. It definitely came out harsh, no question about it. Taking a deep inhale, you feel the coolnes of the kitchen counter under your fingers, holding on to it. Joel’s presence looms near, his hand touching the small of your back. He’s not holding the magazine anymore. 

“Are you alright darlin’?” he asks with a hint of worry. He drags his fingers up your spine, a sudden heat coils in your stomach. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m happy to be here, you know that.” 

“I do, sorry,” you mutter, fingers grasping two glasses before pulling away. “Tommy’s in the room, making the paint all creamy and stuff.” 

“He’s doing what now?” 

When you look at him all the happiness from before comes surging back, he has the most horrified, flabbergasted expression you’ve ever seen. The first hints of laughter come out in short bubbles, and as Joel continues to stare, you burst, loud, chest-rattling sounds of joy clawing out of your lungs. His shocked expression shifts into a happy one, a grin playing at the side of his lips. 

“I keep tellin’ him to stop sayin’ that,” he clicks his tongue. “I keep tellin’ him ‘saying smooth is enough’ he never listens.” 

“It did make me laugh a lot though, so maybe it’s not so bad that he says that.” 

“If it made you laugh it definitely ain’t a bad thing,” he answers, taking the bottle and heading toward the room. “I love hearin’ you laugh.” 

You force your legs to move despite wanting to stop and stare behind him as he disappears through the hall. First the kiss on the cheek, and now this. Blood pools under your fingernails, confusion makes your head spin—but you still continue to walk. The thoughts that began to form quickly disappear when you enter the room, you see Joel leaning over Tommy. 

“Why do you still use the word creamy?” he asks, hands in the air. “Why?” 

“It’s a fun word,” Tommy answers, eyes finding yours mid sentence and winks. 

Your mind races but you smile anyway. Tommy’s bizarre question from earlier must’ve riled me up, you think, stepping inside. There’s no logical reason why Joel dating Asha would bother you, he doesn’t belong to you, hell, you’re not even that close. You’re just acting up because him and Tommy are the first friends you made when you moved here. Just some friendly overprotectiveness, that’s all, you would act the same if Tommy was dating someone. 

You nod as a response to your thoughts, yes, you definitely would act the same. 

“Are you possessed or somethin’ what’s going on with you?” 

You flinch at the question and turn to Tommy, he has that familiar lopsided smile, eyes amused. 

“I’m good, I was just thinking of something.” 

You don’t miss the way Joel looks at you, worry crossing his face, but you act as if you didn’t see him. Taking a deep breath, you slap your hands together. 

“So, where do we start?”

The room heavily smells of paint. Toxicity is slowly inhaled through your nostrils, burns your throat, and swirls in your lungs. You feel slightly queasy. Joel is sitting across from you with his legs outstretched and hands palms pressed into the newspaper-covered floors to keep himself upright. Tommy has his legs crossed, he leans forward to grab a piece of chocolate. And you. You have his jacket thrown above your shoulders, the night chill settling easier now that the room is empty and the walls wet with paint. 

While Tommy leans to grab the piece, his shirt rolls up his waist, you notice a tiny, crooked bullseye tattoo with two circles and a dot. Fascinated by this new discovery, you poke it, and, essentially, him. He flinches, giving you an almost offended look as he turns around. 

“The hell are you doin’?” he covers the patch of skin with his hand. 

“You have a tattoo.” 

It’s a statement. Joel gives you two a crooked grin as he takes a sip from his glass. Tommy raises an eyebrow, a small dimple forming on his right cheek as he smiles. 

“So? Just because I have a tat doesn’t mean you can poke me.” 

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you had one.” your lips crack a smile. “It’s cute.” 

You notice the soft flush coloring his cheeks, but you swiftly ignore it when Joel speaks, his voice low and scratchy from the late hour— and from inhaling the paint, probably. 

“Tommy had the bright idea to be a tattooist when we were in high school. He begged for a kit every year for his birthday, and one year I actually managed to get together a bit of cash to buy him one of them shit stick and poke sets.” 

“Awww, that’s adorable,” you grin, playfully shoving your shoulder into Tommy’s. The younger Miller shook his head, averting his eyes from his brother. “I’m assuming you got a tattoo too, right Joel?” 

“No.” 

Tommy scoffs at the sudden denial, he accusatorily points the piece of chocolate at his brother, then shoves it into his mouth, “Come on now, don’t be shy. Show off my masterpiece.” 

“Some masterpiece,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. “But fine.” 

You’re too stunned to actually notice the small patch of inked skin when he lifts his shirt, your mouth dry as sandpaper. He also has a crooked bullseye, a bit darker in shade compared to Tommy’s. The shape is right above his ribs, to the side of his torso. Some part of you wants to touch it as well, to follow the round pattern with the tips of your fingers but you fight the urge. 

“Cool,” you say unintelligently and he releases the shirt, covering his skin once more. You turn your head to Tommy. “Why did you stop?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I kind of just did.” 

“Could be because you decided to dive head first into a war.” Joel says, with a fresh sounding bitterness. 

Tommy’s shoulders raise, his brown eyes a shade darker with the glare pointed directly at his brother. Family is never easy, no matter how close or loving. You know that Tommy is riddled with regret much like your own brother, though at least Tommy had the sense to get out before falling in completely. You place a hand on Tommy’s thigh and squeeze, your heart breaking instantly at the way his eyes soften when he looks at you. 

“If you decide to ever get back into it, I’d be happy to draw you up some designs.” 

“If that means you’re gonna get back into drawin’ again sure, I’ll get back into tattooing. I just need to find that old set.” 

“You’re not using me to experiment again,” Joel grins. “Just sayin’” 

Getting back into drawing. Seriously how long has it been? Has it been long enough that it was even obvious to Tommy and Joel? You had done a couple of sketches, not really anything riveting. The end product always resembled either a dark hole or a dark room of some kind. It was like a manifestation of your thoughts, complicated, scratchy, overlapping. A sea of gruesome lines. 

For you, painting has always been about expressing yourself in ways you couldn’t imagine. It could be a purple cat staring into a well. A city in ruins standing at the edge of a leaf. Sometimes it could be as simple as a girl in a hallway, threading upon a red carpet. Right now is a perfect time to express yourself. The pain, the void. But you can’t bring yourself to lift a brush or a pen. It’s too much. No image is clear enough for you to put on a canvas. Despite how complicated it looks, you feel that in the end art should be simple to make. Your hand should move in fluid motions, it shouldn’t be a struggle against waves of fear. 

“Hey,” Tommy touches your cheek, for some reason, you lean into the touch and the same fingers slide to the back of your head, giving your scalp a pleasant scratch. “Are you good?” 

“I was just thinking,” you answer, eyes momentarily finding Joel. He looks stiff as a rock. “I miss painting.” 

“Then paint,” Joel says. “What’s stopping you?” 

“Myself. I didn’t have this problem before but now I feel stuck. Everything comes to me all at once and all that combined results in an empty canvas.” 

“What if we gave you something to draw?” he asks, earning a confused look from both Tommy and yourself. He smooths his thumb over the corner of his lip. “Like, a single thing. Maybe it can ease you in.” 

“Did you have a suggestion?” 

“A butterfly.” 

Your eyes widen at the prospect of it; a creature with beautiful wings, something that could be any shape or size. A tiny thing that was an embodiment of elegance in most cultures. A god in some. You can imagine patterns above fluttering wings; orange, purple, pink. You’re reminded of fairies dancing and leaving behind fairy rings, you see a blue butterfly flying above into a blue sky that is paler in comparison. 

“A butterfly,” you repeat, your lips feeling numb. Only then do you notice that Tommy’s fingers hand slid to your neck, cupping it gently. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Sarah loves butterflies,” he remarks as if reminiscing a pleasant memory. “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you make of them.” 

And just like that, a sharp melody cuts through the conversation. Joel looks down at his phone, eyebrows raising with slight surprise and worry. His eyes snap to you both. 

“Speak of the devil,” he says, getting up. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears, leaving you and Tommy alone. Sleep starting to make its way through the cracks of your reserve, you allow yourself to lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. His hand gently glides down from your neck to the small of your back, a comforting touch. 

“Do you like the color?” he whispers. 

You stare up at the ceiling, a soft light lavender gives the room a dream-like state. Your eyes shift back to him, a soft smile tugs at your lips. 

“I do,” you hum. “But I think we should paint one of the walls a nice blue.” 

“Blue?” he asks. “Why blue?” 

“It reminds me of butterflies.” 

You stare blankly at the white door in front of you. Both you and Tommy were taken aback when Joel asked you to come over after he brough Sarah back home. She refused to talk about it. And She asked for you specifically, Joel managed to learn what the issue was then. She’d gotten her period for the first time. 

Which is why you have a pack of pads, painkillers and the last pieces of chocolate. 

To be completely honest, you’re nervous as hell. It’s ridiculous really, considering Sarah is only fourteen years old. But alas, here you are, staring at the door with light filtering through the bottom gap. You’d told Joel to wait downstairs, and Tommy had offered to tidy up the room and throw out the newspapers. Right now, you’re regretting your decision of making Joel wait downstairs. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you knock on the door twice. A weak sound barely reaches your ears. 

“Come in.” 

Sarah’s laying on the bed, curled up into a ball with her back turned to the door. Your throat tightens a bit. You don’t quite remember what your first period was like, but you know it must’ve been rough. It’s not easy to go to the bathroom and suddenly see blood stains all over your underwear. Briefly, you wonder if Joel ever talked to her about it. Did it come as a shock? They teach what periods are in school right? 

Tentative, you make your way to the bed and gently sit at the foot of the bed. You notice her wincing a little. 

“Are you alright?” 

“‘T hurts.” 

“I brought you painkillers,” you inform. “also a bit of chocolate.” 

“I don’t want chocolate.” 

“Tell me what you need then.” 

“It was so humiliating,” she snaps, stretching her legs a bit but still refusing to look at you. “Everyone was there, well the girls, and I didn’t even notice it first. Sally did.” 

You don’t know what entices you to do it, but you place a hand over her ankle. She clams down for a moment, takes a deep breath. She shudders. 

“It was awful,” she chokes up. “They didn’t laugh or anything and it makes me even more upset that my first reaction was to call my dad.” 

“That’s normal,” you answer, rubbing soothing circles into her clothed skin. “These things are difficult, your hormones are all over the place—” 

“Gross.” 

You can’t help but chuckle at that, “Yeah it’s pretty gross. I’m just trying to say that it’s normal to call your dad and I’m sure your friends will understand.” 

“You’re too optimistic.” 

“Am I?” you tease. “First time I’ve heard of it.” 

Sarah sits up and pulls her knees close to her chest. She seems calmer now, more level-headed like her usual self. She holds your gaze, you could almost see a reflection of yourself in them. She’d been crying. Joel’s heart must’ve shattered into a million pieces. 

“Is it always going to hurt this bad?” 

“Kinda, yeah. I’m not going to try and bullshit you by saying it’s a beautiful thing. It’s not. But,” you offer her the last bit of chocolate, and she takes it with a small smile before plopping it on her tongue. “You’ll learn how to navigate it better. Just know that whatever you’re feeling, no matter the age, is always okay.” 

“So I can still call my dad when I’m like…Fifty?” 

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to pick you up wherever you are.” 

She snorts, “If he’s alive.” 

“That man has the stubbornness of a mule. He’ll come back as a zombie if he has to.” 

“That would actually be kinda cool.” 

You smile as she thinks about it, her eyes looking up to the ceiling. Meanwhile, you take a peek at her clock, 2 AM. Time sure does fly. 

“You should take a shower,” you say, turning back to Sarah. “And here, I brought you some pads. Do you want me to show you how to use it?” 

She shakes her head, “I’m good. Thanks by the way…I…appreciate it.”

“I’m here whenever you need me. I’m only a knock away.” 

“Isn’t that supposed to be a phone call away?” 

“I don’t think that fits the whole neighbor theme.” 

Before you leave, you notice a butterfly hanging from her window. A small smile touches your lips. 

It’s blue. 

“Is she okay?” 

You’re not at all surprised when you see Joel with his head between his hands, elbows painfully digging into the kitchen counter. The circles under his eyes seem a shade darker, the white of his eyes stained with red. 

“She’s alright don’t worry. She going to take a shower now, and use the pads I gave her. I also brought her painkillers that she might want to take before bed,” you had unknowingly brought the box down with you. You place it in front of Joel, his gaze drops. His lips move slightly as he silently reads the brand. “There isn’t much in there you should buy another one tomorrow.” 

“Alright,” he answers, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll buy you a box too.” 

“No need, you’ve already done a lot for me. Helping your daughter navigate the wonders of womanhood is the least I could do.” you answer with a heaping amount of sarcasm in your tone. 

“I’d be lost without you, neighbor.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you grin and rest your hands on top of the counter as well. “You could’ve asked Asha to talk to her if I wasn’t around.” 

His face falls, a sudden chill settling around you both. He shakes his head, the crease between his brows deep. “She specifically asked for you. Besides the thing with Asha—” 

His words come to a sudden halt as if he doesn’t know how to describe the situation. Tommy had said that they were similar in character, you wonder if Asha is better at expressing her thoughts, you can’t imagine two people having the same struggle being together. 

Joel suddenly takes your hands into his own, eliciting a soft gasp from the back of your throat. 

“She asked for you,” he repeats again. “And I wouldn’t trust anyone else with a matter this sensitive.” 

His hands are warm but his fingertips are cold. With an overwhelming need to touch, you smooth your thumb over the mountains of his knuckles, dipping between the valleys and climbing uphill. He seems to have the same need. You can see the turmoil in his eyes as he leans closer, lips an inch away, he holds your gaze. A moment worth painting, you think, the suspense, the aching need, to be forced apart. Unlike you, Joel doesn’t explore the depths of your skin, so you continue to do so for the both of you. 

Your breath is lodged in your throat, a lump. You turn over his hand, tracing the lifelines and vanished marks of his skin. His pulse is fast under the pads of your fingers, the vein like a river overflowing across his forearm. You stop at the wrist, only your eyes allowed to continue the journey. 

Staring at his skin, visions of what Sarah’s mother must’ve looked like flash before your eyes. You wonder if she saw the same things that you did, you wonder what possessed her to leave all this behind—the scarred skin, the soft voice, the dark brown eyes, the daughter, the home, the life. 

Then you’re abundantly made aware of another’s presence when your eyes follow the slope of his right shoulder and see a darkened mark on his neck. Asha has been with him more intimately, you wonder what she sees when she looks at him. Is it the same as you? Does she see the sadness lurking under his skin? The worry of never being able to be enough for those around him? Does she understand what he feels? 

Do you? 

“I should go,” you exclaim, pulling away your hands like they’ve been burned. “Let me know if she needs anything else.” 

You’re halfway to the door when you feel his fingers circling your wrist, not enough to physically hold you but enough to make his presence known. You hear the words spilling from his lips ‘wait’ he says, ‘let me walk you over’ but it’s too late, you’re out the door, throwing yourself into the chill of the night. 

It’s too much, it’s too sudden, it’s too bizarre. 

Your fingertips are still tingling with the sensation of his skin underneath yours, the soft hairs, the tiny bumps littered over. It reminds you of the smooth feeling of oil over canvas, all you want to do is press your palms and spread your fingers, touching him, you want to feel everything. 

Tommy’s waiting on the porch, he gives you a look. “Is Sarah alright?” 

“She’s fine,” you say, a bit breathless. “She’s…yeah she’s going to be fine.” 

“Good,” he nods. “Anyway I should head back home, I cleared up the newspapers and I’ll come back for the cans tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” 

His mind seems to be whirring because he doesn’t notice how slowly you’re speaking, he doesn’t notice the frantic beating of your heart. Tommy nods to himself, and leans in, you feel the brush of his lips against your ear. 

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

His lips are on your cheek, soft and wet. He smells of cigarettes and paint, but something sweet lingers below the surface. Your heart drops, your stomach churns. The feeling disappears as quickly as it came. Before you can say anything, he’s already at the end of the three steps you have. 

“Goodnight,” Tommy calls out. 

You watch like a deer in headlights as the car moves away, the red light slowly disappearing into the distance. You touch where he had kissed. It wasn’t the first time, but it feels different. It reminds you of when Joel kissed you, a similar feeling. The only difference is that instead of stopping time, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

Then you realize. 

Tommy has feelings for you. 

You clearly have feelings for Joel. 

And you think Joel might have feelings for you too. 

Your fingers twitch, butterflies flutter wildly both in your stomach and in your head. 

You head inside. 

You trudge into the bedroom, the scent of wet paint clinging to your skin like a suffocating blanket. You had brough along with you the magazine Joel had left on the coffee table. Sitting on the bed, you flip through the pages, but the content is dull, littered with construction jargon that is foreign to you. 

Just as you're about to give up on the magazine, a photograph falls out from between the pages, landing on your lap. A photograph, you deduce, picking it up from your lap. It feels fresh, glossy, and slightly uncomfortable to the touch. You gaze at the image, and it takes a moment for your brain to register what you're seeing.

Every ounce of blood is drained from your face, all that heat pooling between your legs. your eyes go wide. 

It’s Joel. 

Half of his face is out of frame and he’s shirtless but you recognize him. Saliva floods your mouth. It’s not a very neatly taken picture, probably time adjusted so he could pose, which explains the slight blur of the background. His jeans hang low on his hips, unbuttoned, and his fingers disappear beneath the waistband, hinting at what lies beneath.

You trace the way his muscles are firm under his skin, the softness of his stomach, the faint trail of hair leading down to his navel. 

The faint sight of the bullseye tattoo on his ribs solidifies to you that this is indeed Joel. You’re lightheaded. When he said he stopped by home to pick up something for Asha you hadn’t realized that this would be it, a suggestive, nearly nude, photo. Now you just feel stupid for assuming he could be into you, clearly, he and Asha are both comfortable with each other enough for stuff like this. 

You continue to stare, the blood rush loud in your ears. You memorize every curve, every little detail of his body. The small scars littered across his chest, the unsure hint of a smile that’s mostly hidden, the pebbled nipples due to the cool air of the room. You want to see what lies under his pants, you want to see the rest of him and engrave that into memory. You want his body to burn yours, make you into something beautiful—make you into art. 

You sneak your hand between your legs, one hand still propping the photo up. You never actually masturbated to a picture before, mostly videos or just your own imagination. There’s something…interesting about it. Your imagination is more vivid somehow as you look at the picture, you can almost feel the warmth of his body blanketing yours, those thick fingers circling your clit and slipping inside. 

A soft moan breaks from your lips. You feel blood heating your cheeks, your skin incredibly warm and head dizzy from staring at him. You imagine having him in your mouth, your tongue teasing that sensitive spot right under the head of his cock. You think of the sounds he’d make, how guttural they would be. 

You arch your back as you imagine his thick cock pressing into you, he pulls you closer to him. His hips move in a circular motion, pushing deeper and deeper into you as you moan in pleasure. His hands grasp your hips and he pulls you closer.

Your eyes flutter open as you imagine his lips on yours, tasting the sweat that is dripping from your skin. He flicks his tongue, exploring your mouth and sending sparks throughout your body. His hands move up your back, slowly tracing your spine until he reaches your shoulders. You feel his hands slide up around your neck as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your breath hitches as you feel the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You reach your hands around his back, pulling him even closer as his hips continue to move against yours. Your pleasure builds, and soon you let out a loud moan as you feel yourself cresting over the edge.

You imagine yourself collapsing against him, panting softly as the pleasure slowly ebbs away from your body. You feel the imaginary warmth of his embrace still surrounding you. It’s painful almost. Feeling him when he’s not here. Your heart hurts, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. You take a sharp inhale, shaking your head. 

Tears blur your vision as you place the photo back between the pages of the magazine. 

[waklman]

hey! It’s my birthday today! I was wondering if you could write a small blurb about Bradley doing something special for babybear on her birthday? No worries if you aren’t able to! I love the series! <3

Birthday Suit

first off, happy freaking birthday!!!!! of course i’ll write something for you!!!! thank you for enjoying my series, i have on my party hat for you right as we speak B) i wanted to get this posted on the day of your birthday so sorry if it’s not as polished >.> (also maybe because i wrote this on the shaky bus..so that too haha)

warnings: fluff, 18+ blog in general, minors dni.

word count: 900

something ‘bout you masterlist.

“Shit–she’s not here yet, right?” Bradley asks frantically, nudging the door open with his foot—hands clumsy handling a cake.

He’s yet to look up from the very costly decorated birthday cake, trying to balance it with sweaty fingers. You’ve been raving over the local bakery’s designs lately—showing Bradley their custom made desserts to an endless degree.

Which only meant that—he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t splurge on a cake. Especially one that was shaped like the head of a bear. When he finally arrived at the bakery for pickup, in his scramble to show up on time—Bradley couldn’t even be mad that one of the bear’s eyeballs were slipping off the edge, because you’d like it.

It would make you laugh, and that’s all Bradley needed to know before stuffing a fat twenty dollar bill in the tip jar—rendering the teenage girl at the register speechless.

As he sets the cake down, Bradley stretches his neck to face the group of usually chatty aviators surrounding the kitchen island.

His eyes are already narrowed into slits, staring at them through his eyebrows with a warning look.

There’s only silence between him and the group, who all have their mouths parted in shock. Hangman’s mouth is parted the widest, making the paper party horn slip from his teeth—which annoys Bradley even more.

Bob is the only one who can’t face Bradley, blinking down at the cake nervously—trying his hardest to ignore his choice of apparel.

“Don’t say a thing,” he grits, watching Jake collect his thoughts, lips puckering together—a clear sign that he does in fact—has something to say.

To no one’s surprise, he’s the first to speak up. “What the—What the fuck is on your face?” Jake sputters, lips curling inside his mouth to let out a hideous laugh.

He says exactly what everyone’s thinking, causing most of the pilots to double over in laughter. Though some of them—well just Coyote, accidentally spits up in his own hand, from holding in his amusement.

“What the fuck is on his face?!” Natasha yells the question at Jake. “Don’t you mean—What the fuck is he wearing?” Natasha puts forth, tugging on the pink tutu around his waist.

“Hey. Hands off woman, this took forever to put on.” Bradley grunts, turning his hip away from her hands.

It’s not like Bradley isn’t aware of how ridiculous he looks. There’s a full shaving cream beard ringing around his mouth for God's sake. Not to mention the bright pink tulle around his jeans—paired with a matching princess tiara sitting on his curls, of course.

He’s actually very aware that he looks like he’s been dressed by a group of six year old girls given free reign—also known as the collective who runs your brain. You’d have a hoot at this.

Before anyone else can get another word in—the front door of your apartment jiggles, and Fanboy quickly hushes everyone. The make fun of Rooster convention is put to an end as everyone scatters to a nearby hiding spot. If it’s one thing the group is good at—it’s knowing how to act quickly.

Right as you walk in, you almost fall over from being greeted with loud screams of “Suprise!” and “Happy Birthday!” and even one “I love you more than Rooster!” coming from Hangman.

Clutching your chest, your mouth stretches into a wide smile—heart full of joy at the surprise. “W-What? Oh my god,” you catch sight of Bradley first.

Completely dropping your stuff onto the floor, you go running at the flushed pilot, throwing yourself into his arms. Bradley stumbles back with a shy look on his face, “How do I look honey?”

You place a searing kiss to his mouth, letting the shaving cream stamp your own face—matching Bradley. “So freaking cute, I love the tiara,” you laugh, taking it for yourself.

Jake’s already starting, “See, I don’t know—it looks fine on her but on Rooster it’s kinda—” Natasha jabs him in the ribs with her elbow, not wanting him to ruin the moment. Jake groans, catching the hint.

Bradley finally drops you, hands still on your waist as you slip back onto the wooden tiles. You get distracted, playing with Bradley’s skirt as he grins down at you, “How’d they get this in your size? I tried checking before but—”

“Ahem.” Payback cuts in, knowing you and Bradley tend to get lost in your own little world.

You both turn to face the noise, and everyone’s surrounding the cake, waiting for you to notice it.

“No. No you didn’t!” You gape, hands coming to your mouth—smearing your new white beard.

Your eyes start to actually well up watching everyone make excited gestures at you—happy that you got your dream cake. Hangman flaps his hands around the cake, with an open smile.

Unable to contain your tears, your fingers stretch over your eyes, covering your face completely. “Baby—wait hey are you crying?” Bradley worriedly leans down, trying to pry your hands off.

You fall foward into his chest, and he catches you. “It’s s’cute. The ugly little eyeball—I can't,” you muffle into your palms.

“Thought you’d like that,” he laughs, glad they’re just happy tears. Placing a kiss onto your hairline, he whispers, “Happy birthday babybear.”

“Babybear!” All the pilots shout in unison, some even tearing up themselves. In a flash, everyone's throwing themselves at you both, turning it into a group hug. Hangman is the last to join, wrapping his arms around everyone, sniffling.

You just cry harder at the sentiment, this is the best birthday ever.

note: as always, thank you for reading and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tags for this series: @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @stark3ys @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid @averyhotchnerr

join my taglist for this series here or follow @waklman-library and turn on notifs to get notified when i post !

[weak4skz]

Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Han and y/n have been friends since before they could remember. But what happens if their friendship is severed by an unfortunate situation and Han goes off to be an idol while y/n is in college. When they connect through a mutual friend, what happens then?

WARNINGS: insecurities, weight issues, body dysmorphia, bullying, toxic beauty standards, name-calling, self-harm (tell me if I should add anything else!)

A/N: first fic up. idk if I should make it into a series though. I hope you enjoy and I would love some feedback :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on y/n” Han whined out from on the couch beside me. “We both graduated. I am not watching your dumb romcoms all night as ‘celebration’ let’s go and actually have fun.”

“First of all, they are not dumb Jisung” I started. Second of all, where would we even go to have fun? One of those dumb house parties?” I finished my response. We both sat on my living room couch, me in one of the t-shirts I stole from him some time last week. Han had been trying to convince me to go to one of his friend’s house parties for the past hour. Parties were never really my thing. I would much prefer to stay home and watch one of my ‘dumb romcoms’ instead. Han, on the other hand, was much more of an extrovert than me. My job was to pick him up from parties on the weekend when he had a little too much fun.

“We are most definitely going to a party. And we are gonna be the hottest people in the room and we’re gonna dance until we drop.” Han replied, already pulling me off the couch. “Now go put on something nice so we can go.” He had already somehow pushed me to my room and shut the door. Something nice. I thought to myself, silently walking over to my closet. 

That leads to the second reason I don’t like going to parties. I am not exactly the right shape to wear something one defines as ‘something nice.’ Sure I wear a sundress here and there and even a fitting top every once in a while; I am not fit for the house party definition of something pretty. I am not pretty enough to wear the tight black dress that rests permanently in the back of my closet, I have too many curves for that. So, as always, I picked a pair of wide leg jeans and an oversized graphic tee. Not because they’re comfortable, not because I don’t want to wear dresses. I simply wear them to hide the things I don't want others to see, things I don’t want myself to see. I hide thick thighs behind the dark blue denim and rolls of all shapes and sizes under the black t-shirt. Not because I love the clothes, I don’t even enjoy wearing jeans. Simply, because they shield me from the truth: I am not pretty. Not pretty enough for Han, not pretty enough for my parents, not pretty enough for society, hell I’m not even pretty to myself. Well shit, now I’m crying. Great fucking job y/n. I silently wipe the tears, at this point it’s part of my everyday routine. I walk over to my vanity and reapply my mascara, wiping off the bits that are now falling down my cheeks. 

“ARE YOU ALMOST DONE” Han shouted from outside my door, bringing me out of my own little world. “Yea, almost” I replied, trying to hide the fact I was just crying. I finished touching up my makeup, and walked towards my bedroom door.

 I took an extremely long time getting to the door; dreading Han’s reaction to my outfit for the party.

“Let’s go,” I walked past him and towards the door, not looking at his reaction. I pick up the keys, silently signaling to Jisung I’m driving and walk out the door towards the car.

______________________________________________________________

After the longest fifteen minutes of my life, we arrived at the party. I immediately feel uncomfortable as I get out of the car. The flashing lights and loud music I can hear coming from inside informs me of the headache that’s about to arrive.

 Han pushes me inside and all I see is people. There are probably 100 dancing teenagers shoved inside this two story house. Han immediately leaves me to my own devices after spotting someone he knows. I think I heard him say ‘he’ll be right back’ but i couldn’t really tell over the music. So, as the introvert I am, I look around the room for a corner to hang out in until I go home. I make my way over to the first empty corner I see and pull out my phone so I don’t look like a loner.

I have been sitting in this corner for about twenty minutes until I feel someone approaching me. I internally cringe because they reek of alcohol and sweat. I look up when the said person taps my shoulder. 

“Hey baby. Are you here alone? I could keep you company” he slurs out, clearly drunk.

Ew “No thank you” I say trying my best to muster a polite smile.

“Come on baby, I know you want some company. Just come wi—”

I didn’t even let him finish before I slapped his hands off of me and pushed him away.

“I said no, so back the fuck off and go away.” I said through gritted teeth. I swear this was the last thing I needed tonight. 

“ Listen here you little bitch. I was just trying to help you out but here you are acting all high and mighty. Well guess what, you are not even half of any person in this room. You're not hiding anything by wearing baggy clothes, you fat bitch.” The guy, whose name I don’t even know, started yelling out of nowhere.

Great. And I thought my night couldn’t get worse

Before I could make my emotional response; I reminded myself that this was bound to happen at some point. I remind myself that some people hate me like I hate myself. So I numb myself, blocking out the outside world. Reminding myself that I say the same things about me everyday. 

I brushed past the drunk guy and the crowd of people that decided to watch to look for Jisung so I could ask him to leave. I scan the room and my eyes land on him. He was already looking at me with sympathy? Or worry? 

Shit he knows.

 My best friend, and crush, just saw me get utterly humiliated by having my biggest insecurity revealed to more than half of our graduating class. And even better, he didn’t do anything. Well, I couldn’t really blame him. He was standing next to some girl, a really pretty girl. She was cute: on the shorter side and she was really skinny. She had perfectly clear, pale skin and big doe eyes. She was everything I’m not; and at the same time, she was everything I wanted to be. Judging by the rumpled clothes, smeared lipstick, and puffy lips; I could only guess what they were doing.

Trying to escape the limelight suddenly sprouted on me; I give Han a quick thumbs up to signal I’m okay and wave my keys signaling I’m leaving before walking towards the door.

I turn back, hoping to see Han behind me, but instead; I see him tonguing the pretty girl’s throat.

Hope is for suckers, I remind myself. I remind myself that a guy like him could never like someone like me. That he just sees me as a friend, or even a sister. 

With that, I leave; dragging my heavy thoughts with me. 

[seancekitsch]

I hope you don't mind me asking. And you can leave it if you want, but ( I so adore those two pervs lol)

How do you imagine Adrian’s reaction when he first figures out one of his latest Twitter followers is in fact Reader?

amon 1/2/3

TDLR hes shook >:)

You’re wearing that pair of jeans again. Adrian hates these jeans. He can’t stand them. Whenever you wear them he can’t help but stare and scowl at them. All because they have the audacity to hug your ass and thighs so perfectly it makes his uniform pants fit terribly. His jaw clenches as he starts to pace around the room. He knew you were tired, so the moment you threw your sunglasses at Chris in what he had to assume was anger, he figured he had to try to step up for you. He walks laps as he argues, worried that if he stops moving he’ll put his big dumb Adrian foot in his big dumb Adrian mouth and make you look bad in front of the others. Despite the anger you showed, you almost immediately ignore the argument, so Adrian figures he has to be the hero to go to bat for you. 

He doesn’t mean to look at your screen, because he knows it’s rude. He’s been told by everyone on the team that its rude, so he’s trying to train himself into not doing that, just like how he trained himself to stop doing duck lips in photos so his brother won’t make fun of him. 

Your fingers move quickly though, and it catches his eye on the Vigilante side of his brain instead of the Adrian side of his brain. 

He sees what’s unmistakably his own Twitter account. Not @busboybyday, nope. The OTHER one. He recognizes his own body, and he knows thats the video he posted right before he came into HQ this morning. 

Holy shit. Holy fuck. Holy shit. He knew it. No he didn’t. But he had a sinking suspicion. He remembers one morning waking up to see a notification of you liking a tweet on his lockscreen, and then he couldn’t find it in the app. And then a new twitter account followed him the next night. A twitter account with a Fargo reference as its username that he hopes is from the same IP address as yours. 

Now he knows youre actively seeing and even liking the videos… he could die. Not actually, but like, in a high school english course figurative language way. He has to actively wave his hand in front of his face like he’s shoo’ing away a fly to try to erase thoughts of you touching yourself and moaning his name while his twitter page is open on your phone. 

If Adrian’s pants weren’t already feeling tight, they’re downright constricting now. 

“Why would y/n hanging out with me make her a slut? It doesn’t even make sense. A woman having sex doesn’t make her a slut!” Adrian reasons, turning on his heel to walk back towards you.

“But she said you didn’t even have sex!” Chris yells back, and you’re just scrolling on your phone ignoring all of it. 

“Thats not the point!” Adrian shouts back, wanting to tear out his hair at his best friends argument right now. He loves his best friend, but 

“I’m just saying-“ Chris starts, but then he’s cut off. Adrian isn’t even looking at him anymore though, instead he’s just gazing at the back of your head. What does you face look like in this moment. Are you nervous? Happy? Is there that cute little frown that you get when you’re bored?

“Why are you even using the word slut?” Economos chimes in, even though he wasn’t in the conversation beforehand. He sounds angry, but his facial expression looks a little too chill in Adrian’s opinion, and he assumes that the bearded man isn’t actually all that man. 

“It sounds like you both need to work on your internal misogyny,” He speaks up again, and Adrian snaps his mouth shut so quickly he can feel his teeth rattle. Oh shit. 

He sits down as soon as he can, practically scared into sitting in fear that standing might make him look like a misogynist to you. He sits calmly, well, as calm as he can with his mind racing the way it does. Chris always said he doesn’t make sense, but Adrian knows how what they’re saying as his comment connect, there’s just… maybe twelve jumps to take before you get to his comment. But it makes sense. 

“Well, I mean I can’t even do anything, Leota’s mom won’t pick up the phone, Murn’s…. well,” Emilia pauses, and looks a little choked up when she mentions their former boss. Adrian’s getting better at recognizing emotions, and he knows she’s really sad about him dying. Even if he was a bird and he lied to them. Friends are weird like that. Adrian sometimes misses how he would yell at them, because Murn did usually have the right idea. Murn was like a parent for the group, even though he didn’t need a parent. He had those, and they didn’t really like him as much as his brother. 

“Maybe we should try to go out on purpose,” Emila proposes, and the suggestion hangs in the air for a second. Adrian thinks that might be nice. Usually when you went out to bars, it was this big coincidence where you would all go alone, or maybe one or two of you would go for a beer, and then the rest of you would all trickle in having the same idea. He thinks it’s because maybe a few of the team have secret telepathy, because how else could this repeatedly happen?

(There are five bars in Evergreen, and they have slowly gotten themselves banned from each of them.)

Everyone is quick to agree, save for you, still scrolling on your phone and ignoring everything around you. Adrian really hopes youre not embarrassed by the implication of you and him hooking up. But you did like his tweet… He didn’t imagine that.

“Like team bonding! It’ll be fun,” Leota speaks up above the rest of the discussion.

It’s then decided a plan would be made, and the scheduling gets done quickly.  

When everyone agrees to meet the next night, Adrian stands and walks over to you. He has this fantasy thats been building in his head the whole day, that you like what you see on his twitter and you want him too. That maybe, you wouldn’t beat the shit out of him if he tried to make a move. That you like him too.

“Well? What do you think, Cowgirl?” Adrian asks, using the emoji nickname he gave you and truly hoping you’ll actually talk to him after Economos’ comment about his misogyny. He hopes you don’t think he’s one of those nice guys he sees on reddit that are actually terrible and expect things out of women. What they do is almost crime, Adrian thinks, bitter that it isn’t.

Your eyes widen and he starts to get a little nervous, like maybe you won’t be down and he won’t get more time with you. At this point, Adrian would literally beg for just an extra minute with you. He’s lucky he gets Fargo nights now, but he’s willing to press that luck as far as it’ll go.

“Yeah sure,” you respond, not missing a beat but your eyes don’t match your words completely. Adrian doesn’t know what that is. “Good! I’ll pick you up after patrols tomorrow,” he confirms, and you nod. Adrian feels on top of the world after that, practically drifting to the Vigilante Mobile before he changes in the car for his shift at Fennel Fields. He makes a mental note to cancel his patrols for tomorrow night and make a few stops tomorrow morning to prepare to take you out for drinks… with friends… tomorrow night. Fuck, he doesn’t know how he’ll get through this shift now with the new hostess talking his ear off when all he wants to do is to hide in the lock in and jerk off to the thought of you watching his videos… maybe even liking them… maybe even touching yourself to them.

He turns the music up, and pulls out of the parking lot with his tires squealing. 

Adrian hopes you like the video. Half of them are for you anyway. 

[tojiscrack]

𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒

: ̗̀➛ word count: 12.5k

: ̗̀➛ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

: ̗̀➛ notes: yep, i’ve decided that i’m gonna turn this in to a series. again, this is all satire, so no cringey bits will be written bc i can’t with the second hand embarrassment, lol

: ̗̀➛ summary: you gather your two best friends' opinions about your new crush, and while commandant shadis has a few things to say, too, you find yourself introduced in a sticky predicament.

previous chapter :) next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“you could have had a crush on anyone. anyone, y/n, and you chose captain levi?”

the much taller boy with ash brown hair did not look impressed. in fact, the more he frowned, the more he looked like a horse that had been foolishly lead to a suicide charge by commander erwin himself. it was funny, amusing, and satisfying to see, but it wasn’t doing you any favours in terms of support.

jean kirstein was a hater anyway. your best friend, yes, but also your number one hater. you could always count on him to point out your flaws in almost everything; that didn’t mean that you didn’t do the same to him. you gave just as good as you got, it was a mutual thing and although it could get annoying, it was fun. he understood your humour, he just didn’t encourage it, choosing to watch from the side-lines as you embarrass yourself time and time again (‘the one form of entertainment we can get here during training’, he would always say).

“i’m gonna pursue him,” you declared, overwhelmed with pride at your marvellous decision.

jean’s eyes widened significantly. he had been previously practicing the way he would throw more effective punches, but had come to a halt when you had said exactly that, nearly tripping over his own feet. what a dramatic bitch.

“of all the stupid things you’ve done and plan on doing,” began jean, pupils dilating, “this has got to take the cake. what the fuck?”

“wanna know my plan?” you asked, ignoring the way his eye twitched in irritation.

“no.”

“silly jean,” you chortled, “thinking i’d stop just because you said so.”

“you asked if i wanted to know!”

“and i’m telling you anyway.”

jean looked over your shoulder, forming the most expressionless look you had ever seen in your life. he was almost as monotoned as the captain you had grown to be fond of, but not really there yet.

and just who was he making that face at?

it was because of you, yes, but it was like he was silently communicating with the third party of your little group: marco bott.

marco bott, the most purest being inside the walls, would agree with you. you know he would, because even if there were a chance that he wouldn’t, he’d never actually voice that. he wasn’t jean, and he would never try to upset you. he was way too caring of other people’s feelings so you had tried to corrupt him many times, but 1. jean was always there to stop you, and 2. marco bott was literally an angel in disguise. there was no corrupting him when he was so innocent and righteous. eventually, you gave up: one can only be persistent for so long.

“eff you, jean,” you cursed, turning around to face marco instead, watching as he pulled a fallen leaf out of his dark hair. “marco, what do you think? i can pull him, right?”

marco smiled sheepishly. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that marco disagreed with you... but that simply could not be it. marco would never, unless —

you swivelled on the spot, only just about catching jean moving from some action he seemed to have been making when your back was turned, his gaze now stupidly set directly at the sun hovering above you all, and fingers stroking his long chin.

“why are you corrupting him?” you demanded angrily. “that’s my thing!”

“i wasn’t corrupting him, you psycho,” argued jean, now blinking rapidly after ripping his gaze away from the blinding light. “and even if i was, you’re such a hypocrite.”

“jean —”

“he wasn’t corrupting me,” marco interrupted gently. when you looked at him over your shoulder, you could see that his ears had turned pink. the mother fucker was lying.

“marco butt,” you stated, silently fuming.

“it’s — it’s bott —”

“well maybe you should change it to b-u-t-t.”

“no.”

“yes.”

“no.”

“please?”

“no.”

“see, now you’re just playing favourites,” you said, rolling your eyes as you gestured to Jean, who was still frowning. “if jean had suggested it —”

“yeah but i would never,” the horse interrupted, pacing, “i’ve got double the brains you have.”

“yet you still can’t figure out a way to get mikasa to even look at you.”

jean looked visibly taken aback by your response, standing up straighter and scowling.

“why would i want her to look at me?” he demanded, continuing to pace. only, the speed at which he walked and turned had increased notably. both you and marco had noticed, glancing at one another for just a split second before hiding your grins.

you also noticed the way his strides had lengthened: jean had never told you or marco about his small crush on mikasa ackerman (the girl who was at the top of the class for eveything) but the two of you already knew — the poor guy would blush over the smallest of interactions with her every once in a while. too bad mikasa wouldn't even spare him a single glance.

you chose to put the teasing to a pause for now (making a mental note in your head to bring it up later) because you still needed to tell your two best friends about your master plan.

“whatever,” you hastily said, looking at marco once more. the boy was trying to actively avoid your gaze; what an idiot, thinking he could scramble away from your clutch. “captain levi’s in the scout regiment.”

at that, both of your friends stopped dead in their tracks. usually, marco would remind you and jean to keep moving (nobody wanted to go deaf in the ears when commandant shadis would scream about how you maggots were slouching off) but this time, he had stopped moving altogether, not even scolding jean for doing the same.

you wondered if you had said something wrong.

well, arguably, everything that came out of your mouth was something the two constantly opposed, but this seemed different.

maybe it was the way marco’s eyes were wide open in a silent whisper of ‘you shouldn’t’, maybe it was the way jean’s feet were practically planted into the ground with shock, or maybe it was the way the two were unwilling to even look at you that made you slowly begin to understand what that traumatised look on their faces were because of.

you had almost completely forgotten that both marco and jean were competing with everybody else to be part of the military police brigade: marco ranking seventh and jean ranking sixth. when the faction selection part would come soon, they would be joining the mps whereas you would be joining the scouts. they seemed to have figured it out all on their own.

“you’re joining the scouts?” jean had asked after the awkward silence had passed. you didn’t even get a chance to answer before he continued. “what, are you telling me that your master plan is to turn in to that suicidal blockhead? you've got a death wish!”

you knew who he meant. close friend of mikasa's, eren jaeger had been hellbent on joining the scouts since day one of the training corps. jean and eren had quite the tendency of butting heads every once in a while. where it had once been amusing to watch, the consistency of the arguments over basically nothing had become tiring.

as much as you wanted to joke around with jean about this, you could easily tell from the way his brows were creasing that he was dead serious.

“no,” you told him, “how will i ever get to be with the captain if i die?”

“you’re signing yourself up for death with the thought of joining the scouts,” replied jean bitterly.

“oh?” you questioned, eyes narrowing dangerously. “and you’ll spend your life living instead by signing yourself up for the mps, abusing your power, living in the interior with a lavish life while the scouts and the garrisons actually get something done.”

“that won’t be me,” stated jean, voice becoming more stern as he stared at you. “when i join the mps, i’ll actually use my power for good.”

“yeah, you tell me how many mps have said that before actually joining. name one.”

“guys,” started marco, voice shaky as he stepped between you two; you had not realised how close you had gotten to jean in the heat of the moment, "i think we should continue training before —"

“i’ve never met them or spoken to them,” said jean, cutting through marco as if he had not heard the dark-haired boy speak. as a result, marco looked disappointed. "but you have. you could name —"

“nile dok. that’s gonna be your future commander, right?”

“what’s wrong with that?”

“you can’t argue that the mps are working for good if you have him you’re working under.”

“you’re just salty that commander erwin smith lost his girl to him —”

“that has got nothing to do with this!” you snapped, wanting to wipe the stupid twitch in jean’s lip. he found your anger amusing. “don’t you dare talk about poor commander erwin like that when you lost mikasa to eren —”

“what has any of this got to do with that?” roared jean, exhaling deeply through his nose. his pale cheeks had warmed. “and i don’t even like her!”

“jean...” began marco nervously.

“and that means nothing because you lost captain levi to nobody!”

you gasped, scandalised as marco muttered your name. how dare you? you thought in your head, opening your mouth to clap something witty back, only to be interrupted by the bellowing in your left ear.

“CADET L/N!”

you turned your head, ear ringing at the loud voice, and lo and behold, commandant shadis looking as angry as ever, the wrinkles pulling on each side of his eyes with the furrowing of his dark brows. commandant shadis and you had never gotten along. when you had first joined the training corps, it seemed that the commandant had it out for you because from that day onwards, he had made you a target, one to shout at and reprimand every second of the day.

of course, you were not completely innocent yourself. sometimes you would get a rise out of him intentionally.

“is there a reason as to why you maggots are slouching?” you didn’t even get an answer out before he hurried on to say, “do something!”

you did not need to be told twice. what jean had said previously about you and captain levi stung, so without a second thought, your right arm swung up and clashed against his cheek, leaving a red hand print on the side of his face. his head snapped back in place in fury.

“what the fuck?”

“you deserved it!”

“you —”

“c’mon then mp, what’re you gonna do, huh? arrest me?”

“what?”

“or are you gonna steal captain levi from me like nile dok stole marie from erwin smith?” you questioned sharply. jean looked bewildered beyond any confusion you had ever seen on him before, but you did not care. “repeating history, right? well i know better than erwin, and i’m gonna pursue —”

“l/n,” said a low voice from your right.

if you hadn’t turned your head to see who had interrupted your very important speech, you would not have believed anybody if they had told you that the person who had uttered your name so quietly and calmly was commandant shadis. that man was anything but calm, and never once had you ever gotten such a nice word from him, even if it was just your name that hadn’t been screamed at you. commandant shadis seemed surprised with himself too, but sighed tiredly instead of correcting himself.

“my office,” he said, now growling. your brows were knitting together, bemused. “i’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

and then he turned on the spot, giving you a clear view of the lines at the back of his head. now that you could see it up close, you realised how it looked very much like a face. is that how he always knows when one of us aren’t training? he’s got eyes at the back of his head...

you hadn’t realised how long you had been staring for, and it wasn’t even a pleasant sight to be daydreaming over. only when he stopped walking, turned around, and sent you a vicious glare did you straighten up, palms becoming sweaty.

oh fudge, i’m caught.

“l/n,” he began (again, oddly tranquil). you held your breath. “MOVE!”

“yes sir,” you said obediently, not even waiting a single second before jumping on the spot and hurrying to catch up with him, ignoring the laughter rising from around you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

fucking eyebrows smith.

the walk to commandant shadis’s office was awkward and incredibly uneasy. you took your time walking a good distance away from him so to onlookers, it didn’t look like you were in trouble (again). although you should have known that you were walking with a man who screams for a living, so being sneaky like this would only result in him bellowing at you again (‘WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, SCUM?’), ruining your entire plan as you kept your head hung with annoyance (‘okay, i am right here, you do not need to yell’), which earned another load of spit flying over to you when he began screaming again.

so now you were sitting in his office, seething silently about not him, keith shadis, but the devil in disguise, the blonde brainiac, the mind flayer, the blonde brute, the leader of the scouts, commander erwin smith. the mother fucker betrayed you.

well, not like he had not said that he would be informing shadis about you, but still. partners in crime wouldn’t do that to each other, but arguably, it looked more like a one-sided partner in crime type of relationship. erwin smith just seemed exhausted with the way you listened to nobody but yourself and somehow managed to put up with you for as long as he did - which isn’t too long, in your defence.

commandant shadis’s office was much smaller than the one you had been in previously (the traitor’s office). with a desk at the very centre of the room rather than the back, with floors made of wood rather than the easy tiles, with a bookshelf that had gathered an eye catching amount of dust, shadis’s office looked as though it were made for him, with nothing out of the ordinary. the guy even had a mega phone standing at the top of his drawer in the left corner (whatever for? he shouts just fine without it).

“you know why we’re here,” shadis began, clearing his throat and staring at you. the way his face looked, you knew that if you were seeing him in a dark alleyway, you would run the other way immediately. he had a natural scary look that many of the other higher ups did not possess.

you did not respond. what was there to say, after all? ‘yes, i’ve had this chat with the traito- erwin smith already’ and then risk getting shouted at, or ‘yes, i know’ and risk getting shouted at again? erwin’s backed you in to a corner with this, the backstabber.

“how many times have i told you to mind your own. damn. business?”

he’s not screaming?

well it looked odd. the many times you had been called out of training to get lectured by him, none of them ever had an occasion where he never raised his voice. this was extremely peculiar.

“twenty seven times, sir,” you answered honestly, because you had been counting since last month. when shadis raised a brow at you, looking almost speechless, you corrected yourself. “oh, you’re right. it was twenty eight, sorry.”

his confused look turned in to a sneer.

“that’s not why i was —” he started, growing aggravated. he closed his eyes and shook his head. “never mind. why did you do it?”

“do what?”

“you know what.”

“i don’t really —”

“i’m losing my patience, cadet.”

you sighed, feeling something hot by your abdomen.

“yeah, and i’m losing my patience. oh.. i also really need to do something you won’t be happy about.”

shadis looked as though he wanted to grab the megaphone and scream in to it. you frowned as you awaited his long overdue response.

“i am assigning you to stable duty,” he informed you, rolling his eyes when he saw the enraged look that had called itself home on your face. you bit back a witty response, your sharp tongue beginning to hurt at the repression. “and you’re doing laps till the sun sets, no pause.”

the way in which he said this made your stomach churn even further, the unsettling feeling in your abdomen remained.. and perhaps increased at his statement. you exhaled heavily, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair you were sitting in (the corps really need to use some of that money they get on comfortable seats for fuck’s sake) and clasped your hands together, both elbows resting on the arms on your seat.

oh no, i don’t feel too good..

“well you leave me no choice,” you told him, standing up and walking towards the door a large distance behind you.

“what?“ you heard him mutter, but you really did not want to suffer the experience of getting yelled at for what you were about to do, so leaving without a single glance over your shoulder would be the best option, you had decided. “cadet l/n, sit back down.”

you turned to face him, monotoned and straight faced.

“sir, i really need to step outside for this —”

“cadet l/n!” shadis started, standing up from his seat as you turned away, reaching for the door knob. he wasn’t exactly screaming, but it was closer to it than ever. “are you — get back in here right now!”

you stared at him through half lidded eyes. why would this man just refuse to listen to you? you were doing this for his benefit.

“please sir, i have to leave —”

“what is the meaning of this?” he asked seriously. “you think you’re so special you need to take a step outside and come in when you’re ready? with that attitude, you’ll be titan meal before anyone else in the corps!”

“no, please, sir —”

“you are not leaving!”

“fine, don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your stomach churned once more, a final time, the last time before you felt the gas travel down and.. poof..

the silence was deafening, almost too loud for you to bare. it wasn’t uncomfortable, and you carefully watched shadis as the irate look on his face remained, teeth gritted and jaw clenched. your eyes travelled up to his nose when you saw it twitch, and then his nostrils flared: once.. twice.. a third time, before..

“CADET — L/N!” he all but roared, stretching out the last couple of letters of your name as the sound of his palm slapping against his nose and mouth came, louder than any silence you had the unfortunate luck of baring.

“that’s gonna leave a mark tomorrow,” you mumbled, leaning back in disgust.

if he heard you, he didn’t give any indication that he cared, for he pointed at the door, fingers shaky, a silent order for you to leave.

the smell couldn’t have been that bad. god, men are so dramatic, you concluded in your head. well, the smell wasn’t as bad to you anyway.

it smelt like raw meat that had been freshly cut and butchered, a hint of bad eggs and offed milk was evident; it seemed to have reached every single inch of the room, including all the corners. the plant that sat on his window sill, you could have sworn you saw one of its leaves droop slightly lower. the plant was probably a male too, dramatic-ass bitch.

it was a fart, it really wasn’t that bad. and that was what you smelled, so perhaps it was worse for the victims of it rather than the owner?

you scrunched your nose up at the thought as you rubbed your stomach.

“i probably shouldn’t have had the eggs for breakfast..”

“LEAVE!” shadis ordered, waving frantically at the door.

his tanned skin had turned a nasty shade of crimson, darker than when eren would pick a fight with jean and steam would flow out of his ears with every punch he sent.

“i told you but you chose not to listen to me,” you informed him, actually stepping further in to the room.

shadis took note of this and began yelling at the top of his lungs, a new form of colourful vocabulary even nile dok hadn’t showed you. interesting.

commandant shadis ran to the window, shaky hands trying to pry it open. you watched him, shaking your head at his obvious stupidity. before you could get a single word in, however, he was ordering you to leave again.

“GET — OUT!”

“no,” you answered back, defiant. “you’re really confusing me you know. when i say i want to leave, you tell me to stay. when i say i don’t want to leave, you tell me to leave. everyone says it’s women that are confusing but oh my gosh, men are just something else!”

as your speech continued (and turned in to a rant) shadis was trying to punch open his window - a stupid move, again, men - as well as try to intervene.

“i will stay in this room and i am not leaving because i know that when i leave — no, don’t interrupt me, i’m speaking — when i leave, you’ll tell me to come back in!”

“WHY WON’T THIS —” he gags “— WINDOW — OPEN?”

commandant shadis begins to wrap a veiny hand around his throat, bent over and breathing out heavily, exhaling as much as he could, but it looked as though it was only worsening things, because he had no choice but to inhale the air right back in again.

he looks up, eyes bloodshot, and you felt like a prey staring at the predator who was about to devour you whole.

“THE DOOR!” he shouted, pointing again.

you turned around, agonisingly slow. what a predicament to be in. he wanted you to open it? or keep it closed? you think you know the answer deep down, but then again, you did warn him, and he willingly chose not to heed it.

“oh don’t worry, sir,” you said, walking over to the door and holding the lock. his eyes widen in.. fear?.. when you switch it. “it’s already locked now. you were saying?”

you seemed to have pissed shadis off to the point where he was now stomping towards you, and each clash of his boot against the wooden floor was only a count down to the distance being closed between you two.

he’s going to ki-

ah fuck!

shadis, now positively fuming, did not hesitate to grab at your hair, pulling hard as he dragged you over to the door which he unlocked with his free hand, striding out and walking down the dimly lit corridors, seething.

“ow — okay, wow — ow!”

“quiet, scum!”

“okay, i would like this hair pulling thing in other circumstances, but you’re being really aggressive right now — ouch!”

in response, shadis simply pulled on your hair harder, and you could have sworn you felt him rip a few strands out. you sigh angrily as the two of you take an abrupt turn to the right, closing in on the mess hall.

“ow!” you hissed, holding onto the wrist that was attached to the hand gripping on to your hair for dear life. “ugh, i brushed through my hair this morning too! you’re gonna get it tangled, you know?”

shadis merely grunted. you were beginning to get irritated.

“never mind, you don’t know. you literally have no hair on your head,” you snapped, trying to free your poor hair from the older man’s clutches. “are you trying to rip it off and glue it on your scalp or something? it’s too — ow — tight! if you wanted me to donate hair to you, you should have just asked!”

and before you knew it, you found yourself being pushed on to the ground, knees scraping hard against the floor. you felt the fabric of your pants tear, and you winced as your hands took a nasty slap to the ground too. you exhaled heavily, looking over your shoulder to see where the bald bastard that did this to you was.

he was exactly where you expected him to be, but in a position you had not expected him to be in: doubled over with his hands gripping on to his kneecaps, sweat beading at his lined forehead, exhaling and coughing uncontrollably. damn, did your fart stink that badly?

why was he being so dramatic? it was literally a bit of bad gas, did he expect you to hold it in? there was absolutely no way you were going to do that, especially not when your mother had warned you about how unhealthy that was. you would be extremely foolish to just ignore her advice; knowing this, you did not regret how all this played out.

a faint cough was heard from beside you, and as you turned so you were sitting on your bottom, held up by your elbows, you looked up to see your fellow comrades, all watching you with wide eyes, some snickering and some looking confused, others looking as though this was long time coming.

you weren’t given the chance to wave or say hi to them, because shadis had cruelly snatched that opportunity away from you, exploding at you in a way that everyone (as well as you) were not used to. if you had him pissed before, he was indignant now, eyes white with rage. shadis looked as though he had aged a hundred times faster, glaring daggers at you. now if looks could kill..

“NEVER, IN MY —”

you shut your eyes, blocking out the cursing because you were still a child.

“— YEARS OF BEING IN THIS —”

you censored it again.

“— PLACE, HAVE I EVER MET SUCH A —”

you opened your eyes, but shut them immediately when you took sight of his face.

“— GIRL, WHO HAS BOTHERED ME TO THE POINT WHERE I’VE HAD TO ENDURE SUCH A —”

well now that was just rude.

“— STENCH LEAVE YOUR USELESS, DIRTY ASS —”

and then you found yourself smiling. why? you didn’t know either, but the way he was yelling at you was rather amusing, with his face twisting in ways you never thought could be even possible..

oh shit.

he caught on.

his eyelids were now completely out of sight, a small twitch in his left eye could be seen from where you were laying. your amazing art of rendering people speechless once more had begun again; a sense of pride swelled inside your chest like fairy dust in an old wives’ tale.

“why,” he began lowly, dangerously, calmly, “are you smiling?”

well you were honest all the way up until this point. what was the use in lying? you know you’ll end up in the stables either way. might as well own it.

“why aren’t you shouting?” you replied innocently. and it wasn’t an act, you did sound innocent the way you posed the question, and you weren’t guilty at all.

commandant shadis inhaled through his nose as if testing to see whether the air was fresh enough for him to breathe in - you didn’t blame him, because your previous gas releasing act must have traumatised him.

a vein was now protruding at his forehead, begging to burst through. he opened his mouth once more but you hurriedly raised a finger at him to halt.

“careful, i like it when people shout at me.”

it wasn’t silent anymore. you could hear gasps, whispers and murmurs surround you. you even heard a faint ‘oh god’ and a grumble of ‘are we really that surprised?’ from somebody too.

the air was thick, now. you felt hot. you had never had the unfortunate event of ever feeling embarrassed but you just revealed a very bad kink to everyone, the people you will be training with for another couple of weeks before you part.

technically, you had previously blindly told people about your weird desires, but in front of every single person in the 104th? in front of your commandant? to your commandant? that was new.. and you knew you had taken it too far..

.. for the man was now struggling to take deep breaths, and wow, you know this will never die down. the eye twitch of his had increased significantly, his fists were clenched at his side, as was his jaw, and the lines on his forehead only became more and more prominent as his brows knitted together to move further down his face. the glare his dark eyes had on you did not force you to waver, but the small smile your own face had claimed had dropped ever so slightly. you wondered whether the face at the back of his head was angry, too.

now a string of curses were leaving his mouth, threats of laps until your heart stops beating were given, and the strides to grip you by your arm had begun. at least he’s not after my hair this time, you thought, sighing as he pulled you up, his blunt nails digging in to the fabric of your jacket and no doubt leaving half moon crescents in to your smooth skin.

you remained stubborn, trying to keep your body as heavy as stone to stall for time, your eyes scanning each face frantically to look for the two people you needed most. at last, after passing over many, many people (including connie, who was struggling to breathe with laughter, sasha, who had taken this as a disturbance and used it as a master plan to steal food off of her friend’s plate, reiner, who was now sweating due to god-knows-what, conflicted again, probably) you found them: jean and marco, both sitting together at your usual table.

you noticed how there was an extra plate across from them, filled with food and by your usual seat. the sweethearts had loyally saved your place.

when jean caught your eye, his face remained expressionless and bored, giving you a ‘seriously?’ kind of look. marco was watching carefully, and every time you made eye contact, he looked away, bashful.

“jean!” you called out over shadis’s loud cursing. all eyes turned to him, but jean did not change his expression in the slightest. “help me — ow!”

your friend watched as you struggled.

“i’m not getting you out of this one,” he told you, your heart dropping at the betrayal.

you thought you had heard him wrong, perhaps it was the fact that shadis was quite literally screaming in your ear that you missed what jean had actually said, so you repeated yourself desperately.

“jean — come on — ouch, can you stop pinching me!”

this time, jean did not respond.

your worries were put to a momentary end when jean stood up. key word: momentary.

he stood up, to help you.. you felt elated, making a mental note to drop the teasing about his small crush on mikasa, only to find yourself confused.. and disappointed at last. he wasn’t going near you at all. he had walked around the table, took what was meant to be your plate, and passed it to sasha, who hungrily took it with no hesitation.

“she won’t be coming back anyway.”

your gaze hardened, face becoming stony as you glared at your friend. when i’m out of this man’s grip, you threatened in your head, just you wait.

so fine, if he wouldn’t help you, then your more loyal friend would. you averted your gaze to marco, who was shaking his head slowly at that human horse’s actions. trust marco to lecture him about this, thank the walls.

“marco!” you called out as a final resort.

what happened next must have been a dream, for marco acted as though he had not heard you. fair enough, perhaps shadis’s voice was ringing in not only your ears, but everyone’s. you’ll call him again.

“marco!” you repeated.

he looked up. finally.

but the kind features on his face, that welcoming look he usually always had diminished instantly, as if it was never his to begin with. he looked down at his half empty plate, poking at his potato.

“yeah.. erm.. i don’t know who she is,” he said, and connie’s laughter only increased at that.

wow.

marco was pretending that you guys weren’t friends, acting as though you didn’t train together nearly every day, faking the fact that you would spend nights picking on jean together (well, that was mostly you, but he was a witness). marco was betraying you too.

you take every word you thought about marco back. he wasn’t an angel, he was a manipulative bitch.

helpless, you felt yourself finally fall limp in shadis’s grip, being dragged away to your doom (which, you notice, is the pathway to the stables).

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“okay you don’t need to hold me, i can walk!” you protested sharply, shaking your arm firmly out of commandant shadis’s iron grip.

he was not impressed, and said absolutely nothing as he dug his nails in to your arm to drag you across the training field.

the heat of the sun was only just beating down on you, covering your once-cool-neck in droplets of sweat. your head felt hot and you knew that if you laid a hand on it, you’d just fry your palm; it did not feel pleasant at all. your feet were only dragging along the grass, you were trying to plant them in to the floor in (what you thought was) a sly attempt to lengthen the journey to the stables where you knew you’d be spending all day in, cleaning horse shit.

“move,” grunted shadis under his breath.

“would it kill you to ask nicely?” you grumbled back, quickly growing irritated with the situation.

“i’m not asking,” responded shadis, teeth gritted, “and the last time i tried being nice, i ended up inhaling a form of gas i shouldn’t have.”

“but —”

“god, have some self control,” sighed shadis exasperatedly, pushing you along.

“hey, now that i think about it,” you began, ignoring the way the man so rudely sighed (and he was exaggerating too), “you didn’t react nearly as badly as you did with sasha when she farted —”

“because i didn’t fall victim to it,” he answered, as the stables where the horses were kept grew closer and closer with each step. “it was probably you anyway.”

should i be offended or proud? you thought to yourself idly, as the sun smiled down maliciously at you.

small beads of sweat were now making themselves comfy on your soft skin; it did not help that the man’s grip on you never faltered once, and this act alone caused your attempt at breaking free to flee. he was breathing down your neck, harsh breaths through his nose that only added to the ridiculous heat of today. you looked around, eyeing the colossal trees as the wind playfully ruffled their leaves, the sound of nature blissfully meeting your ears in a bird song.

the area around you was growing darker as you were forced to march upon the grass, protected by the shadow of the same trees you were gazing at only moments ago. the coolness of the shade as the sunlight fell away was refreshing, like a bottle of ice cold water after training till your legs cramped up and your knees gave in. but something was off, you realised, as you stared up at the sky (a ridiculous decision seeing as the sun was not playing hide and seek with the clouds as it used to do). you were blinded momentarily, spots of green, blue and yellow clouding your vision wherever you looked.

despite this, however, your ears took charge, just as sharp when a twig snapped by the woods. you looked over your shoulder - ignoring the commandant’s grumbling - and foolishly looked around as if the spots weren’t preventing you from seeing much. there was something by the trees, you concluded wisely, brain working like commander erwin’s (well you assumed it did, because that man always looked like he was plotting some complicated shit).

it couldn’t be the cadets because they were all either in the mess hall, or their rooms. some were walking around the training field you had only just been dragged across, and the woods were out of bounds unless it was odm training season.

and then you saw it.

‘it’, because you didn’t know what it was.

a swift movement, so fast, you knew your eyes with normal vision wouldn’t have been able to comprehend it. a movement so agile, even mikasa on full speed gas wouldn’t have been able to compete with it (maybe a close call, but definitely not close enough to beat it). a movement so rapid, you might have even imagined it. a movement that was.. green?

and then there was nothing.

you shrugged it off for more than one reason: as the wooden, dented doors to the stables approached closer than ever, you didn’t hear a thing again. your normal vision was back again, so if must have been the colours that messed with your head. besides, it wasn’t unusual to hear things by the woods, like a twig snapping or the casual crunching of leaves that had fallen from the end of a tree trunk.

you swallowed down the dreadful feeling you were beginning to get - not because of the sight you thought you’d seen earlier, but because you were now forced to clean up horse poo because of the simple fact that you had passed gas.

it didn’t even bother you that the entirety of the 104th know this absurd fact. what bothered you was that you were now at the punishment everyone strived to avoid. even laps till sundown felt more appealing to do than this.

so as you (at last) finally reached the doors of the stables, pushed forward by your shoulders as you scrambled to regain your balance, you turned around to foolishly make a compromise.

“c’mon, commandant, you know i don’t have to do this,” you tried, wincing at the glare he was now sending you.

“my decision is final,” he grunted harshly, “never been more sure in my life.”

he made a small movement to turn.

“wait, wait!” you tried again loudly, swallowing a load of nothing as he side eyed you menacingly. perhaps now wasn’t the best time to piss him off even more.. so, sighing, you shake your head, a frown appearing on your face. “nothing.”

“thought so,” grunted shadis, turning his head the other way in a matter-of-fact type of manner. “up to it, cadet.”

unintentionally, you mimicked him silently, scrunching your face up and shaking your head in an exaggerative manner, mouthing the last four words he had just uttered to you. unfortunately, this did not bring you as much amusement as you wished it had, because he wasn’t even looking in your direction: he was walking away, or.. stomping away, rather. men are such drama queens, aren’t they?

you sighed, reluctantly turning on the spot and gazing up at your new home. it was very unlikely you’d spend any time training seeing as shadis seemed to have been final with his decision. usually, when he was really pissed off, you’d miss an hour of training to clean the mess hall, so it was only safe to assume that you would spend all your time with horse shit from now on. how.. eventful.

sourly, you began unlocking the wooden doors to your doom, pulling at the old-fashioned lock as you accepted your fate, frowning all the while. what had shocked you, however, was your name being called by the very man who had banished you to this very spot you wanted so desperately to leave. eager for anything to increase more time between you and the cleaning of horse poop, you swivelled on the spot, hissing inwardly as your exposed knee (curtesy of the commandant himself) scratched against the tree directly beside you. perhaps your excitement was a little too much, and could render you benched even after your punishment if you continued like this.

“yes sir?” you answered back, unsure of whether you should salute or not. perhaps not, just out of spite.

“you don’t have watchful eyes or ears, but unfortunately for me, you’re the only one i can ask as of now,” began commandant shadis, looking straight through you (quite literally, because his glare was that piercing and fierce).

you lifted your chin in questioning. curiosity engulfed your body whole, and the stinging sensation in your knee was only worsening, but you waited silently, patiently as the commandant continued.

“did you spot any movement in the woods, west side?”

you could practically fly with glee, no gear needed for the impossible. ‘yes, yes, yes i did,’ you were almost quick to answer, but then that would shorten the conversation and you’d be back to completing your very unhygienic task.

“when we were walking over here,” you confirmed honestly, trying your hardest to prevent your voice from cracking from the exhilaration you were currently feeling. “i saw movement.”

“i am going crazy then,” sighed shadis, shaking his head.

“why would you say that?” you asked, with genuine curiosity.

“because you said it.”

you frowned at him, realising what he had just said.

“bold of you to assume only this makes you crazy,” you accidentally spilled out. the realisation of what you had said caused your eyes to widen and your interest in the bland trees beside you to increase, so you turned on the spot, eyeing them in order to avoid eye contact with the commandant. even doing so, you could feel his glare burning holes in to the side of your cheek, so reluctantly, you looked back.

shit, he’s still staring.

look away..

okay look back now, should be done.

never mind, he’s persistent as fuck.

you mentally groaned before shakily pointing to the home of the horses behind you.

“i’ll just — er — yeah,” you stammered out, hastily turning away before he could say anything more.

this was going to be a long day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“stop it!” you sobbed, slamming your hands down on the hay as the midnight coloured horse in front of you looked down at you and snorted.

it had only been five minutes and you were a weeping wreck. now you understood why people avoided pissing shadis off, but in your defence, the last five minutes felt like five long and dawdling centuries doing the repetitive action of cleaning, only to then find that these beautiful (but stupid) horses have smeared their faeces over the wooden walls for you to clean again. sue me for crying, you thought frustratedly, using your sleeve to wipe away the fat tears gliding down your cheek in such an elegant manner.

really and truly, this was all erwin’s fault. you were going to lecture him when you find him, although you wouldn’t be too surprised if he attempted to avoid you from now on (that’s a lie, you’d be offended and shocked that your partner-in-crime decided to even think of such a thing).

you could hear faint voices outside - curtesy of the door being left slightly ajar to allow sunlight inside, lord knows what could pop out in the dark thanks to jean’s spooky story-telling that you stubbornly said were, indeed, not frightening at all - and it seemed to be the only thing that could pique your interest in this very moment. the horses were beginning to get on your nerves anyway, especially the one with the darkest fur, that one looked as though it were mocking your crisis. you threw the wet rag on to the floor and slowly rose from your kneeling position, grimacing after surpassing the most recent poo smeared over the walls; you listened intently.

the first voice you recognised almost immediately was shadis’s, gruff and deep, and with a slight hint of amusement? now that definitely hooked you in like a kid to sugar. who in wall rose was chatting up the untouchable commandant of the training corps? that man was picky, you could tell, and he was definitely not the easiest to please.

a tingling sensation ran up your spine, one so intriguing, you hand immediately flew to your face, rubbing away the excess salty water from mere seconds ago. what if it was a woman?

being part of the training corps was fun, sure, but it had been a long while since there was some juicy gossip around here. the only thing you had been latching on to was the love triangle that was jean, eren, and mikasa, and even that was bland, seeing as jean was clearly the third-wheeler. you found yourself beginning to carefully walk over, making sure the hay beneath you made as little noise as ever. this was news, just imagine the look on marco’s face when you tell hi—

marco.

marco that butt.

it hurts to think of him after that brutal betrayal.

it’s okay, because jean would most definitely find interest in —

jean.

jean that horse.

it hurts much worse to think of him after he monotonously handed your plate of bland food over to someone else directly in front of you.

their loss, you had concluded, as you grew nearer and nearer to the gap between the door. you still wanted to know who commandant shadis was so smitten by, regardless of whether you had marco and jean to tell or not. maybe this would be the information that could cover up your little.. incident.. that everyone was now aware of. you could practically hear their laughter ringing in your ears even now.

your plan was almost completely put to ruins when the other horses began neighing. you whipped your head back in obvious annoyance, surprised your neck hadn’t snapped right there and then.

“shush!” you hushed them, brows knitting together in contained fury. “go smear your shit somewhere.”

oh, well that was hypocritical.

you were now abruptly reminded of how shadis always wanted the opposite action from you, and when you did it, he would backtrack and say he wanted the first one. the same case has been used here with these horses, and you could even swear that the midnight one was sending you a look that said ‘look at this hypocrisy’.

before you could even begin to apologise to the poor horses you had scolded prior to this, you caught on to the second voice, presumably the one that you had supposed was shadis’s secret lover. but.. this voice was deep - muffled, yes - but deep. or maybe you were hearing it wrong, perhaps there was a much larger distance between you and them, perhaps the voices were more muffled than you thought, perhaps that was why this supposed ‘woman’ sounded more like a man. however, it’s true that many women could have deep voices too, so maybe that was it. maybe he was with a woman with a deep voice. or maybe he was with a man instead? who’s to say that the commandant wasn’t attracted to men?

you waved your hand frantically at the horses on the right that were making way too much noise, noise that was blocking out what you could hear of the conversation between shadis and his lover.

your pushed your head ever so slightly between the door and its frame, in to the gap and exposed to the sunlight. your eyes burned and watered, for you had been sheltered in the dark for more than five minutes, your eyes needed to adjust. blinking rapidly, as the pair’s conversation continued, your turned your head in the direction of their voices. the problem was, however, that you couldn’t see them anywhere. all around you was grass, trees, and the building further down where the rest of your fellow cadets were inside, no doubt eating the leftovers that were meant for you.

exhaling frustratedly to relieve yourself of the thought of the traitors, you squinted your eyes to get a better view ahead. they were still talking, and this time (now that you were fully concentrated) you could make out almost every single word..

as well as who the voices belonged to.

and that was including the second, manly voice.

one that you had presumed you would have had to wait to hear for at least a couple of weeks, after the faction selection part had occurred, so why were you hearing it now?

gripping on to the door frame so tight your knuckles turned pale, you leaned forward, one leg out in the open, half your head in view. eyes darting left and right, the minute the next sentence was uttered, you found them. they were standing near a tree farther to the left of the stables, conversing with each other about the 104th, and your suspicions were proven to be correct.

his stature could be recognised from miles away, different from any other male here in the training corps (along with the fact that he was wearing a cape with the wings of freedom etched beautifully on his back). your breath hitched in your throat, and abruptly, your back slammed against the wooden walls, knees buckling as he spoke once more. it was really him. captain levi was here, within a few metre range from you. but then that struck up the question. what the hell was captain levi doing here? it’s only weeks before the faction selection part would happen, why was he here so early?

as nosy as you were, you concluded that perhaps you would find out why he was here if you eavesdropped. you could almost sing, this was far better than sitting in the mess hall and eating. jean could give away anything of yours at this point, and you wouldn’t even bat an eye.

“many of the squirms are under the stupid impression that being part of the scout regiment is lightweight,” you heard the commandant’s gruff voice say. well, he wasn’t wrong.

“you mean to tell me that this years’ cadets have no backbone?” the captain responded, sounding as though he had almost expected this to happen.

your heart began hammering against your chest with such ferocity, you could swear it to be possible if it jumped out of your chest right there and then. you were going absolutely feral at the sound of his dulcet tones, and because of this, you were now promptly reminded of how this had never happened to you because of anyone else. how had a man you had only known for less than a week danced his way in to your heart?

you peaked your head out again. no, you concluded, he didn’t look much like a dancer to be fair.

suddenly, shadis’ head turned. your eyes widened.

you disappeared out of sight almost instantly. shit, shit, shit, you had thought all the while.

had he seen you? was he now under the impression that you were, in fact, not cleaning like you were ordered to? was he now walking over this way? what now?

your panic was put to rest the second you heard the conversation continue. perhaps he was just looking around, like any normal person would.

well that didn’t sound right. because you knew him very well, and you knew that shadis was anything but normal. at the same time, however, neither were you.

“no,” grunted shadis, and despite not being able to get a view of him, you could practically see the deep frown painted over his face, “there are a few that have potential. fat egos, but a lot of potential..”

there was a short pause before the conversation continued. even from this distance, you could hear the exasperated sigh he let out.

“why do you look like that?”

“like what?”

“like you’re constipated.”

you almost laughed, slapping a hand over your mouth to prevent anything from slipping past your smooth lips. the thing is, if you began laughing, there was no stopping. not only that, but it was loud too, and that would expose your undercover mission of eavesdropping on your two superiors, something you could not afford if you ever stood a chance with captain levi.

however, as soon as the amusement came, it went. your mouth, turned up with contained laughter, flipped itself upside down with a frown. you could feel the crease between your eyebrows beginning to form as the realisation began setting in: commandant shadis was having a conversation with his lover, right? and this conversation - which just so happened to be with captain levi - was almost flirtatious. the blood beneath your skin began to simmer on low heat, but all you could see was red. teeth gritted, it took all your sane thoughts to keep you rooted to the spot, to prevent revealing yourself and the state you were in, but that did not stop the murderous thoughts plaguing your mind like a disease deadlier than anything the people in the wall encountered.

commandant shadis was conversing in a flirtatious conversation with your beloved. he was shamelessly talking with someone who just so happened to be your husband. you felt like jean, who lost his crush to his competition, and yours just so happened to be with the very man who had ordered you to clean until your hands became calloused.

and suddenly it all clicked.

he had done this to prevent you from intervening with the captain, because he knew that once your appeared back in to the picture, the captain would wriggle his way out of the commandant’s iron grip to fall straight in to yours.. yours which were much, much gentler and lovelier.

teeth gritted, with your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth, you fumed silently, listening in. if it’s a competition commandant shadis wants, it’s a competition that he’ll get, you maliciously thought to yourself.

“there’s a cadet here who’s intent on joining the scouts. lots of potential, but will give you a headache with whatever she does - that sharp tongue of hers.”

“that drive will get her nowhere but dead on an expedition.”

“i’d be surprised if she willingly went to an expedition,” snorted commandant shadis, and despite being unable to see him, you could practically see the glare he was sending to whomever he had the chance to.

who was this cadet that the superiors were talking about? one thing for sure was that it was a girl with extreme potential: annie leonhart? you shook your head dismissively; she was joining the military police brigade, and this was a well known fact since the day her and eren were sparring. perhaps you could send a message to nile dok through her, seeing as you were banned from giving it to him yourself (which is extremely unfair, you have to add).

no, it was most definitely not annie. however, there seemed to be a choice much better than annie, and that was the 104th’s current number one: mikasa ackerman.

mikasa was a girl, and very rarely had a tongue sharper than the very blades she uses to slice open those cardboard titan’s during odm training. when she did show us some of her wit, it was the type that was harsher than anything anyone has ever heard of (which made it all the more amusing to watch). eren had decided that he wanted to be part of the scouts, and you knew that wherever eren went, his friends would follow (that was including mikasa). not only that, but she’s stronger than everyone in the 104th, so if it’s potential shadis was commenting on, potential is exactly what mikasa has. still, the word ‘potential’ gives off the idea that she could do better, which contradicts mikasa greatly due to the fact that she could get no better than she already is: she’s number one for fucks sake. and you couldn’t ignore the fact that mikasa could never give any of the superiors headaches, not when she did everything perfectly first try without even intentionally showing off. the girl was brave as fuck, too, why would she surprise shadis if she willingly went to an expedition? she’d go to one without question.

so no, not mikasa.

but then that only makes room for one other person you could think of.. and you knew her very well, to be fair.

it was..

most definitely..

sasha braus!

she’d given the commandant a headache on the very first day, when everyone first enlisted in to the training corps. she’s a girl, she ranks number nine, which means that there is room for improvement as well as the fact that she’s headstrong too (showing definite potential). the only thing stopping you from considering the fact that she might be the right candidate for this topic is the idea that sasha was undecided, she had told you a mere week ago about how she wasn’t too sure what military branch she would go for and that she’d have to hurry up and make her mind. that did still show that there’s a possibility she might choose the scout regiment, you thought wisely, and if she did, there’s a chance that she might back out of an expedition..

yep, she was the best candidate, you decided, growing more intrigued as the conversation continued.

“the expeditions are a requirement. if she doesn’t go to them, what’s the damn point?”

“trust me when i say this, captain, she will find a way to escape ‘em if she has to.”

there was a silence that engulfed them completely, where all that could be heard were the chirping of the birds, the rustle of the tree leaves, and the faint sound of laughter from somewhere down the fields of grass. you didn’t even feel isolated from it anymore, you felt you would much rather be eavesdropping than joining in on whatever was happening in the mess hall (you’d be damned if it was about you, too).

“at least she’ll be out of my hands. good luck.”

“good luck?” repeated captain levi, as if the words were like poison to the mouth. and even then, with him sounding as though he’d rather be titan food than meet this cadet, his voice still remained as majestic as ever.

“three years,” you heard the commandant sigh, “three years of the same bullshit she spews up. this might be the first time you send someone back.”

“i’ll leave that to erwin,” captain levi responded. “it’s likely i’ll never meet whoever you’re talking about. not when we all have separate squads to lead.”

“oh you will hear about her,” riposted shadis swiftly. “whether you’re all the way in mitras and she’s all the way residing in wall rose. if she’s part of your regiment, you will most definitely hear about her. word of advice: assign her to stable duty, it’s the most peace and quiet you’ll ever get. i learned the hard way.”

your stomach flipped over itself. stable duty? but sasha has never been sent to clean the stables. nobody has. the only person who has, however, is..

“and this is supposed to be recent?”

“it’s right now, captain.”

you.

they were talking about you.

this entire time you had been under the impression that sasha was the person they were having a conversation about, but it was you the entire fucking time. it was you when shadis mentioned how intent you were on joining the scouts, it was you when he said that there was potential in this case, it was you when he exasperatedly told captain levi about the headaches you give him, it was you all along.

now you were completely blind with rage. everything around you was the shade of what you imagined commandant shadis’s blood to be: crimson and runny, because it was the topic of you that he was using to shamelessly flirt with captain levi.

flattered as you were about how only the topic of you was able to bring out a conversation between them, you were irked with the idea that he was trying to win the captain over by slandering your name without actually saying your name.

to make matters worse, that midnight dark horse was now breathing down your neck. you shivered under the hot wind from its nostrils as you took several steps back. expecting to collide with the wall you had previously leaned against, you lost your balance.

your stomach was now in your throat, eyes widening with the sudden realisation that there was nothing to grab on to, arms still searching despite being well aware of that fact. your legs tripped back over one another as you flew down, accepting your fate with a cold heart, eyes closing as you took the scores in your head, back callously meeting the hard concrete below you.

shadis - 1 : me - 0.

pain shot up your spine, your head pounding and a harsh breath leaving your mouth. you had been caught, you knew it, because over the chirps of the birds and the rustling of the leaves hanging on the tree branches, your brilliant ears caught on to the vague sound of a grunt, whether it be from the captain or the commandant, you had no clue.

but that didn’t matter to you, not nearly as much as the anger you felt towards that damned horse that blew you cover (excusing the fact that you would have stormed up to the flirty pair yourself anyway, but at least that entrance would have been way cooler than this harsh reveal). your head was pounding, you could feel the warm sun over your face, laughing at your foolishness; even in the darkness you had shut yourself up in (eyes being shut tight and all) bright spots of colours clouded your vision, pink and blue, green and orange. they began forming weird shapes, very weird, like sludges of mud when falling in to a puddle during training with jean and marc—

“on your feet, cadet!”

for fuck’s sake —

“i couldn’t even if i wanted to,” you responded, and had your eyes been opened, you would have seen the way in which the captain’s eyebrows rose up further in to his forehead at your response (and perhaps, your appearance, too?).

you dared yourself to open your eyes, but thought better of it. instead, you turned and laid on your side, the left side of your cheek resting against the hot grass. that brought you not comfort, you quickly noticed.

when you received no response from commandant shadis, you huffed, astonished with how he cared about formalities in your horrible situation.

“sir,” you uttered through gritted teeth, completing your sentence angrily.

perhaps you’d have been in a much better state if you were aware of the fact that captain levi was standing over you, but you were only aware of shadis, under the impression that the captain had better things to do than seeking out the clumsy cadet that landed right on her ass.

“a horrible impression you’re leaving for the captain of the regiment you’re dying to join, squirm.”

now that opened your eyes.

foolish, again, because the blinding light of the sun cause you to groan and bring your hands up to your face to turn on the spot and shut your eyes once more. hearing the snort from your commandant got your blood boiling under high heat, heat rising to your neck and tips of your ears as you scrambled to get on your feet, stumbling slightly as you saluted. it was important to note just who you were saluting at, because it was certainly not for keith shadis.

you opened your eyes, ignoring the sting of the light, because no sting would ever prevent you from seeing what you were blessed with now: captain levi was definitely sculpted to break the hearts of many, many girls.. with dark hair resembling his grey eyes, resembling a storm on a cold winter’s day. the deep frown that called his face home only complimented his features further, but only caused you to wonder just how stunning he’d look if he smiled.

a lightbulb switched on over your head. new task, you thought excitedly, make the captain smile.

you knew it wouldn’t be an easy task, for the captain must have adopted this lack of emotion for good reason, maybe because of all the things he had seen in his time with the scouts. however, you were determined to bring him some form of happiness, however long it took. besides, it couldn’t be too hard. you had a very good streak with rendering people speechless and causing them to have their bellies aching from loud laughter.

but where you looked at him with eyes sparkling in delight, he looked back at you with half-lidded ones, unamused.

okay, so it was definitely going to be hard to get on his good side. what a brilliant first impression.

“a future scout, huh?” were the first four words that captain levi had ever spoken to you, and god did it have you absolutely spiralling. still, you refused to make it obvious that you were sending heart eyes at him (at least, in front of the commandant. in private it may be a different scenario).

“she wanted to be part of the garrisons first,” your new enemy, keith shadis, intervened. “had a change of heart, it seems.”

“no i never,” you lied, thinking of how captain levi may never want to be with someone who considered a regiment different to his to begin with. keith shadis is playing a good game, you thought, panicked. he was definitely making you get on the captain’s bad side so he could then win him over, but you saw right through him. “i’ve always wanted to be a scout.”

the commandant’s left eye twitched.

that’s right, you thought maliciously, i can play your game too.

he seemed to be taken aback with how you realised what he was doing. a voice at the back of your head was suggesting that maybe the commandant was surprised that you were lying about something you were so proud of, but you brushed it aside dismissively, almost one hundred percent certain it was because of how smart you were at how you easily figured out his feelings for the captain, wasting no time at all at that.

“lying to your superiors is another reason for me to send you back inside. just make sure you don’t fall on your ass again,” said keith shadis, almost as though it were a threat.

“i’m not lying,” you retorted stubbornly.

“would cadets kirstein and bott plead your case?”

now that startled you.

wow, you hadn’t realised how good of a game keith shadis could play. but of course he could, for the few days that you knew the captain for could not possibly compete with the many years he knew the captain for.

it’s okay, you convinced yourself calmly, because captain levi and i have more chemistry than him and captain levi do.

your eyes immediately met the captain’s, aware that if there was any sort of chemistry, you’d be making out in front of your competition right now.

whatever. it’s a couple’s thing, you concluded.

right now you had to deal with the man who was knowingly trying to steal your husband.

“i have no idea who you’re talking about,” your answered wisely. “but you could always ask sasha.”

now there was a very good reason why you suggested her, because in favour of this, you would offer her your dinner without question. there were many times you had sasha backing you for trouble you’ve caused, because food was the only thing you had to offer that she would blindly accept. thank god for sasha braus.

keith shadis clasped his hands behind his back, straightening himself up as he glared at you. good, you were slowly winning.

“indecisive about the regiments,” said keith lowly, “that won’t make a good scout.”

“you’d be surprised,” the captain intervened swiftly, eyes unlacing from your smaller figure, “even the incompetent turn out to survive the longest.”

despite your face proving silent surprise, your insides were celebrating, mind reeling at the thought that captain levi had sided with you. you smugly turned your head just the slightest bit to eye keith shadis, who was still glaring at you.

you retook the points in your head.

keith - 1: me - 1.

“what are you grinning about?” demanded captain levi, who was now staring straight through your soul with a piercing gaze.

you frowned ever so slightly. he really looked as though he were sculpted with such elegance even when he was glaring. the only thing you found slightly wrong was how he was choosing to glare at you rather than the home-wrecker next to him.

“so all it took was the captain of the scout regiment to wipe that smirk off your face, huh?” snorted keith, your arch nemesis. “if i’d known that earlier, i’d have done it three years ago.”

“yeah, well, no one asked.”

silence.

complete and utter silence.

a calm before the storm, really, where shadis and captain levi both watched you: shadis’ breath beginning to be heaved out of his nose and captain levi’s face forming an expression of mild surprise. and you, however, remained rooted to your spot, no regret eating at your insides like they usually would when you would sense an incoming earful from your commandant. perhaps it was because of the fact that you knew keith shadis was after your husband that made you bolder than you’d ever been in your life, but whatever it really was, you thanked it endlessly as without it, you’d have already ran back inside to clean without question.

“i wasn’t aware that i needed permission from a trainee to speak,” keith spat out with venom, callously reminding you that yes, indeed, you were much lower ranking in comparison to him.

you narrowed your eyes at your superior, who clearly knew exactly what he was doing.

“i’m graduating in a matter of a couple of weeks,” you reminded him, and because he knew you so well, he could hear the smugness in your voice that, perhaps, captain levi could not. “and when i’m part of the scouts, you can’t boss me around anymore, keith.”

his eye twitched.

oh fuck.

not a good sign..

but i’m not scared?

why am i not scared?

“what did you just call me?” questioned the commandant, looking just as shocked as he had once been when sasha had offered him half of her potato.

you raised a brow.

“your name?” you answered, allowing it to sound more like a question than it did a statement. “you’re really confusing you know. did you forget your own na—”

“I KNOW MY OWN NAME, CADET, BUT IT SEEMS AS THOUGH YOU’VE FORGOTTEN YOURS!” he bellowed, so unexpectedly, your had to take a step back to allow the ringing in your ears to stop.

as you rubbed your right ear and stared at him through knitted brows, you did not stop to mention how wrong he was.

“what’re you talking about? i know my name. it’s y/n —”

“he meant your position,” interrupted captain levi, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. he stood there, looking up at shadis with disappointment. “you’ve lost your control, old man. last year’s cadets weren’t nearly as brave as this single one. mind telling me what happened?”

this was your cue, you decided proudly. taking a sheepish step back, you intervened.

“i can.”

both eyes shifted straight back to you. where the commandant was looking thoroughly exasperated, the captain was looking annoyed, with something else hiding behind his cold exterior of blandness.. it looked like he was almost intrigued? or had you read the lines wrong again..?

“but before i begin on that, i want to let you know, kei— i mean, commandant shadis, sir, that jean told me to do it.”

“jean?” repeated commandant shadis, with an air of confusion.

you nodded.

“jean,” you confirmed matter-of-factly. “he told me to call you keith. and as for why keith has been slacking, captain,” you added, turning to captain levi, “he —”

“get back to work, cadet,” sighed captain levi, rolling his eyes before you could even finish your sentence. “inside the stables. now.”

you nodded without hesitation, rushing back inside with butterflies in your stomach. as you slowly closed the wooden door separating yourself and your superiors, the little light left in the stables diminishing the more you pushed the wood, your back immediately met the wall, sliding down in amazement as you drowned yourself in your thoughts.

looking at him up close was a gift sent from god-knows-who, but you thanked them nonetheless. the idea that captain levi sent you back inside because he was siding with you and not keith made your insides dance with joy, the giddy feeling rushing back to you faster than mikasa on odm. you retook the points in your head one last time, before cleaning the poo with a new, positive mindset:

(captain levi’s wife) y/n - 2: (ugly, bald, home-wrecker) keith - 1

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

he felt bad.

he knew he shouldn’t, a new situation with you and the commandant arose nearly every week, he dares say every day, even, and every damn time, you tried to use him or marco as an escape plan.

to be fair, it wasn’t really his fault that he refused again. besides, what could he have done? attack the commandant, grab you, and run? risk his position as the current number six?

you, obviously, would say ‘yes! what’s wrong with that?’ and then give him a good smack round the back of his head as punishment so he knew for next time, but still, jean felt just the tiniest bit bad for refusing you.

even though he shouldn’t. that was very important to note. he should. not. feel. bad.

yet he did.

and then he felt worse when word got around that you were dragged to the stables. nobody ever pissed shadis off that much to end up there. but of course, you did. you just had to.

jean was currently leaving the boys’ barracks, slyly attempting to see if you had made it round to the next set of training exercises. the window just past the door to commandant shadis’ office was large enough to see every bit of grass that people were training on. he grimaced when he caught sight of annie tackling eren with little effort. that girl was dangerous.

“kirstein,” came a gruff voice from just down his neck, where heavy breaths were being laid.

jean froze up, every muscle in his body becoming tense and tight, like a knot difficult to untie. he turned on the spot and knowingly saluted, aware of all the mistakes you usually made in the presence of the commandant so that he (cleverly) never made any.

“sir!” he voiced firmly, heat now flying all around his body, hiding specifically under his pits where sweat was beginning to form. what was he so nervous about? he had done nothing wrong.

the commandant did not fail to notice this.

“you look like you’re causing mischief, maggot,” he stated as though it were a definite fact. “and scared shitless you’ll be caught. perfect for titan meal.”

what?

what the fuck does that even mean?

“i plan on joining the military police.. sir,” jean dared to reply.

commandant shadis snorted.

what do i do? thought jean, panicked. do i laugh? agree? what the fuck is happening right now?

“cadet l/n won’t be impressed.”

“she isn’t,” said jean hastily, guilt circling his stomach. “sir.”

“i was always under the impression that she got herself in to trouble because she didn’t know how to control herself,” began commandant shadis, as if telling a life story. jean listened intently. “part of that is true, do not get that mistaken. i learned today.”

jean held his breath.

“but you know what she did when i spoke to her?”

jean shook his head shakily. “what did she say.. sir?”

the commandant raised his brow. “so you know it’s what she said and not what she did, huh?”

“i —” stammered jean, confused. “i don’t under—”

“she said something, you know. to me. how did you know?”

“i didn’t..” jean answered, shaking with nerves. shit, sound real. “i just know her really well, sir.”

“that well, huh?” marvelled the commandant. “any idea what she said?”

jean laughed dryly. “probably something stupid, right? sir?”

“she called me keith.”

oh fuck.

oh shit.

what the fuck y/n?

jean found himself holding his breath, and something was tickling his nose like a feather, daring him to laugh. he wanted to laugh. he wanted to joke about this all day and night. he wanted to turn around and wallow in laughter. but he couldn’t, not with the commandant watching his every move through narrowed eyes.

he sucked in a load of air and kept them inside his cheeks. perhaps he could play this off as being annoyed at your antics.

“you find this funny, eh?”

“no, sir,” he responded, breathing out a little of the air he had sucked in. “not at all, sir.”

“i would assume that the very person who told her to do it would find it amusing, kirstein.”

now that stopped him from laughing.

he ran the commandant’s words through his head one more time.

i would assume that the very person who told her to do it would find it amusing, kirstein.

hang on a second, jean thought in a panic, but before he could plead his innocence, commandant shadis’ hand flew up, grabbed at his ear, and jean was being dragged across the training field in a hurry.

as all eyes were on him, jean cursed you multiple times in his head. every inch of guilt he once felt now died out as if it was never there to begin with.

-

“fuck you, y/n.”

“you should be grateful!” you snapped, wiping your hands with a wet paper towel as you gestured to the horses surrounding you two. “i brought you home to your family!”

and as jean made eye contact with the horse that had managed to piss him off the most compared to the rest, he made a mental note never to cross you again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

geez, 2 months since the first chap 😭 i’m so sorry, i’ve just been really busy with exams and studying like mad bc good grades = good future, but in exchange, i’ve given you a chapter over 10k words, so like y/n said to jean, be grateful :)

anyways enjoy this while i take another month juggling writing + studies 😭 i wanna kms omds

all characters belong to hajime isayama, apart from y/n, who i've inserted in to the story myself.

previous chapter :) next chapter :)

tag list: (send an ask to be added)

@inkthgoat @loki1230 @leviackermanst @laccey

[tarnishedxknight]

Good Morning || closed with disillusionedjudge

@disillusionedjudge || { This is a little fun thing for Gylfie in her MCU verse, to balance out the fact that Drace is mercilessly teasing her about being attracted to the Dalmascans in the other thread. Whether she wants to pick on Drace or Gabranth or both, I'll leave that up to you, haha. I just really love them all meddling in each others love interests and relationships so much. XD }

Gabranth's bed rarely ever got used. It tended not to be an emotionally safe space for him, given certain aspects of his past, and he had a hammock where he did the majority of his sleeping. On occasion, his bed had been a table, a seat, a temporary storage shelf... but last night, it had been something else.

Following a long conversation about oh so many things, several cups of tea, and something called New York-style crumb cake which both of them found quite good, Gabranth and Drace had slipped into an awkward silence. Their eyes met, and... Well, it had been too long since they had acted on their feelings for one another. Much too long. A couple of hours later, and they both fell asleep in his bed that was, for once, being used for its intended purpose, without a care in the world.

It was about half past noon when Drace's eyes opened. For a moment, she was blissfully happy, with her head pillowed by Noah's chest and neither one of them with a stitch of clothing on. But soon, reality set in, and her head shot up, her eyes widening. "What is the time?!" she exclaimed.

Gabranth stirred lazily, turning his head and reaching an arm over to tilt the digital clock on his bedtable towards them. The clock read 12:32 PM.

"Oh, for the gods' sake!" she said, jumping out of bed and scrambling to put on her jeans and shirt.

Gabranth simply casually pushed himself up on one elbow, clasping his hands and watching her with a smirk upon his face.

"Do not look so smug, sir," she chastised him, although she was soon smirking herself.

"And why not? Have I not earned it?" he said, his smile growing.

"Mm," Drace said, unsuccessfully trying to suppress her smile, reluctant to feed his ego, but then again... "I suppose I cannot argue that point."

With a slight chuckle, Gabranth stretched and got out of bed himself, reaching for a pair of linen pants.

Once dressed, she headed for the door, carrying her shoes in one hand, but turned back for a moment, seeing Gabranth sitting on the side of his bed, watching her. Her expression turned a bit more serious, as did his own, as she went to him and laid her hand on his cheek, cupping the side of his face.

His eyes watched hers, never moving from her gaze as he turned his face into her hand, his head tilting a little.

Was this a fluke? Did it simply get something out of their systems and onward they move? She hoped not. She loved this man dearly, and she was, although she had yet to confess as much to him, carrying his child. And here in this time, even as much as they both hated it, they were far freer than they ever were before to be together. So why not now? Now was not the time for that conversation, however. It never seemed to be the right time. Drace was terrified of scaring Gabranth away if she pushed for more from him. Nevertheless, she bowed to kiss his hair and turned to leave. Still carrying her shoes, Drace left Gabranth's room and closed the door, taking only one step before-

She gasped and dropped her shoes to see Gylfie standing right there, about to knock on the door herself. Instantly, Drace's cheeks turned beet red. "Good morning, Ynarra," she said, attempting to save whatever was left of her dignity, even though it was no longer actually morning. A hand lifted to her hair, smoothing it a bit, and she awkwardly cleared her throat before she bent to pick up her shoes. "Well, then. I shall see you at breakfa- lunch, I am sure," she said, turning to make a quick escape before the inevitable questions came flooding in from her dear mentee, if she could manage it at all...

[k1nkywhispers]

This story was originally written by me for someone out there on tumblr. He read it, liked it and changed a few things for the better.

His acc got banned and the story with it.

Please note: 18+ and very explicit content

Have fun and send me a message if you liked it 🫦

The moment our eyes met through the flickering lights of the underground club and past the drunk, sweaty crowd, I knew what I wanted. He looked at me with an urgency and a burning desire as my heart thumped in rhythm with the pounding music. I had to find out if it meant what I thought and hoped for.

As my long legs carried me through the crowd, my wet skin met cold leather jackets and damp, sticky arms of the mindless dancing masses as my focus remained unbroken, a single instinct driving me forward.

The moment I came to a rest right in front of him, my breath hitched and my stomach dropped. I noticed his thick cascading hair, his fair skin and his shirt bunched up at his forearms, strong and veiny. He was dressed in a simple black shirt and a pair of jeans. Exactly my type, I thought to myself.

“Hi“ I simply said. “Do you want to dance?“

He nodded and took my hand into his, dragging me into the centre of the dance floor with a commanding tug, making me stumble, yet his imposing grip keeping me steady.

The loud and brutal techno beats overwhelmed my senses and I barely noticed him behind me as we started to move to the rhythm. As I slowly lifted my arms above my head to show of my delicate curves and full breasts, I felt embarrassed but feral with desire to present myself to him like this.

I finally felt his hands touching me, his rough, sinewy hands on my delicate body. He started on my hips, gradually moving to my belly, then to my pelvis and then up, until I felt the heat of his grip cupping my tits, I felt drunk, full of adrenaline as I stared at him, gritting my teeth with need. I felt the soft pressure of his thumbs right on the sides of my breasts as his gaze pierced through mine silently, my loud shallow breathing drowned out by the deafening music as he quickly understood what I needed.

I was becoming delirious with anticipation, I could feel the tension building between my thighs as I began to weave seductive circles with my hips, I felt like an animal, doing anything to increase and chase that sensation. The more he touched me, the more I felt that feeling grow, heightened only by the slickness I felt building between me and the lacy surface of my panties, the sweat and arousal creating a warm wetness that needed his touch

It was as if he could smell my growing arousal, I noticed him coming closer and closer and pushing his own hips into my ass. I couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as soon as I noticed his own excitement growing as it weaved delicious lines across my soft flesh, the hardness pressing into my ass, gliding between my cheeks as he guided my hips with his forceful touch.

I obeyed, pressing myself harder into him, rubbing my ass on his lap under the guise of dancing. My belly filled with satisfaction as I felt his hands wandering again, sending electric shivers down my back. His warm hands fully covered my breasts, I felt them spill into his grip as he managed to trap my nipples between two of his fingers of each hand. I moaned a second time, louder and more forcefully as my back arched, my breasts were completely bare underneath the thin fabric of my dress and his touch began breaking my barriers, leaving me increasingly exposed to his whims.

It was supposed to be my own dirty secret for the night, the fact that I left all my underwear at home, yet now I couldn’t free myself from the thought, that it might actually prove useful. My we thighs glided against each other, reminding me of how few layers stood between me and this stranger, the thought was exhilarating and scary.

No one seemed to notice us or care about what we were about to do, all lost int their own worlds. I felt my pussy dripping, my thighs sticking together while he circled his fingers around my nipples and gently massaging my tits. I threw my head back as my brow furrowed, I didn’t want to open my eyes and acknowledge this lewd display, but I needed to feel it all.

Simultaneously, I felt his face bury itself in my neck, the smell of his aftershave as he began to kiss my sweat-slickened neck. His lips traced a path from there, up my earlobes, biting them gently as he licked this special spot right behind my ear, sucking and nibbling it, holding me in place like an animal.

My instincts once again took over, I turned to face him, my face pleading and determined as I looked up at him. I took his hand and hurried through the crowds once more, towards the brightly lit exit.

The still, frigid air enveloped us as soon as I opened the heavy iron door. I guided us away from the smoking guests crowded around three big patio heaters and into a dark and gloomy alley a few hundred meters away. As soon as the darkness shrouded us, I took his face into both of my hands and pressed my lips onto his, pulling him down to my level. My heart pounded as my body trembled with nerves and the cold. I needed his heat.

He returned the kiss with the same burning passion I felt. I began moaning against his lips as he pushed his hot and wet tongue past mine. His taste was indescribable and I savoured every delicious movement as the misty condensation of our panting and moaning created a fogn around out faces.

As the kiss got more intense and wet, I felt his hands rapidly working up my dress and his fingers searching for a strap to rip down. I saw a mischievous grin on his face as soon as he noticed that there wasn’t anything there. For a second we just looked at each other and I became hyper-aware of my dress rolled up to my belly, bearing my legs and the entirety of my ass and pussy. The cold wind made me shiver as it brushed against the wetness of my vulgar exposure, my knees shook and began hurting, buckling under the pressure of my own desire. I felt the gravel digging into the skin of my shins as I knelt down in front of him.

My hands desperately tugged at the hem of his pants, pulling them down with a force as I watched his hard cock spring out in front of my face. It throbbed and twitched as it’s heat radiated onto my face, warming my cheek as I basked in it’s view. It was bigger than I expected, slick and shiny, begging to be tasted.

Not losing a second, I started with a gracious lick from the bottom to the tip and earned a muffled groan. His rugged sounds spurred me to continue. Quickly, I wetted his tip with my salvia and started to work my way down, centimeter by centimeter of his big, pulsating length. As I reached the base of his shaft with my mouth, my lips where already drenched in my own spit and my labia where just as wet, overflowing with lust, dripping onto the ground. He started to gasp and moan more intensely as I continued sucking deeply, tasting his length with my tongue with each pass.

I relinquished control, letting him push himself deeper and deeper down my throat. His hands, gripping the back of my head, forcing me back towards him with rugged, forceful pulls. The pain in my throat and the lack of oxygen nearly drove me over the edge by itself, I spread my legs as wide as I could, without losing the contact with his dripping wet and urgently pulsing cock.

I was entranced by his imminent released, his balls tightening against my chin, his cock growing hotter and harder in my mouth as I throbbed rhythmically, but just before I was able to push him over the edge he gently pulled me away from him, by my hair, onto my feet.

His body pushed me hard into the wall behind me and his handy quickly wrapped around the back of my thighs, lifting me up against the wall. The coarse surface dug into the skin on my back but I barely noticed, all I felt in this moment was a animalistic desire for him to fuck me unconscious. And again, as If he heard my thoughts he positioned himself right in front of my entrance and looked me into the eyes with his piercing gaze, making me blush and look away.

I nodded faintly, he grabbed me even tighter and pushed into me with one powerful thrust. My pussy was so slick that he slid into me a few more centimeters than intended. I screamed. The instant sensation of his thick cock filling me so deeply made my limbs shake as lost composure. I buried my face into the crook of his neck and started to moan every time he pushed his cock inside of me. He filled me completely, a back-aching rhythm that made my belly feel full and warm shifting my guts with each movement.

After the third or fourth push and I felt the tip nudging the special spot inside of me. My head was blank at this point, no longer thinking, just feeling. All I could perceive was the obscene and wet sound emerging from between us and our husky breaths and moans echoing off the surrounding walls.

It didn’t take long at all until I felt this feeling building up in my belly and I began to grind myself frantically against him. The sloppy sounds of our union seemed to push him to the brink, the wet heat connecting our hips in the frigid air. He too began to increase his tempo. The wet slapping sound filled every inch of the alley like a symphony. I gripped tight around his neck as my nails dug into his skin, the orgasm exploded inside of me completely spontaneously. The feeling spread through my belly, waves of blinding pleasure. I felt my pussy pulse, drawing tighter around his cock as I came intensely with a feral scream. It was too much for him, two more overstimulating strokes and he followed me down the precipice. His moans, centimeters away from my ear, telling me how fucking tight and beautiful I was, combined with the sensation of his hot and sticky cum covering the inner walls of my pussy, made me cum again. I reared up in his arms a second time and clenched my thighs around his hips as the second orgasm crashed through me. I shuddered and held onto his warm body as my legs threatened to give out.

Heavy breathing was the only thing one could hear for the next minute or two as I savoured his scent. I looked into his eyes as he slowly let me down to my feet, the cold void of separation was almost too much to bear.

“You here tomorrow night as well?“ I barely heard the words coming out of his mouth as the blood rushed in my ears.

I nodded quickly, eager to obey. He chuckled and gave me a quick slap on my ass, before pulling the fabric of my mini dress back into place.

“Good girl.“ Was the last thing I heard before he vanished into the night.

[mommysgirl003]

A Day In The Park With Mommy

I woke up on a cool, crisp fall morning. I could feel that I had wet my diaper at some point in the night, long enough ago that it had gone cold and gotten clammy around my princess parts. I smiled and rolled out of bed and waddled my way towards Mommy's room. I needed a diaper change badly, so I woke Mommy up the best way I know how: I took a running start and dove into her bed! I head Mommy groan, then giggle as she rolled over and wrapped me in a big bear hug.

We laid in this position for several minutes until Mommy finally said "Baby girl, I've been thinking. I can tell you've been working hard to be on your best behavior lately, so how would you feel about a fun day out in the park with Mommy?" I can't agree fast enough, exclaiming "Yes Mommy!!!! Please, please please!" Mommy giggles once again, ruffles my hair, and says "Okay, let's get you changed and ready to go!"

I roll over onto my back as Mommy slides out of bed. As I move to get up and follow Mommy, thinking I'll be allowed to change into grown up clothes since we're going out, but Mommy turns around with another thick pink diaper in her hand and puts her other hand on my chest, pushing me back down onto the bed.

"I thought we were going out, Mommy?" I ask her, visibly confused. Mommy giggles once again and says "We are baby. But really, you can't expect to spend a day in the park without your diapers can you? What if you have another one of your little accidents?" I blush, knowing I have had accidents in the past, but shrug figuring I've worn diapers in public before, so it won't be so bad. I lay back and let Mommy change my wet diaper, enjoying the attention she pays to my princess parts as she cleans me up. Once I was back in a diaper I went to stand up and go back to my own bedroom to change into some jeans and a t-shirt.

As soon as I stand up and take a step, I feel Mommy grab my hand and say "You don't need to go anywhere, I've got your outfit for the day right here!" And I turn around to see what she means. My jaw hits the floor as I see a pair of hot pink overalls. These overalls had short legs, with a cute cuff at the end, and I could see snaps on the crotch, assumedly for diaper changes. "Mommy! I can't wear that in public!" I exclaim, mortified at the thought of being seen in public in such an outfit.

"Bedtime just got moved up an hour tonight." Mommy replied, not engaging in arguments with me. I respond, "But Mommy!!!! I can't!!!!!" Mommy still didn't argue, laugh, raise her voice, or any other, she simply stated "10 minutes of corner time when we get back." I choose to stop fighting before I make my situation worse and accept it. I can deal with a little humiliation as long as Mommy is with me. I step into the embarrassing overalls and blush as Mommy finishes getting me dressed, putting socks and shoes on my feet. Mommy then directs me to sit down on the bed and says "Wait right here, Mommy has to get ready" and she goes off to put on her own much more grown up outfit of leggings and a t-shirt.

As soon as Mommy was dressed, she came back and grabbed my hand, pulling me up off the bed. I toddled beside her down the hall, toward the front door, actually feeling a little excited to have an outing with my beautiful Mommy. As we reached the door, I felt Mommy reach behind me and fiddle with something behind my back.

I promptly noticed that she had clipped a leash onto a loop I hadn't noticed before on the back of my outfit. I stopped walking and said "Mommy, no! This is too far!" In a matter of fact tone, Mommy replied "20 spanks before corner time when we get back." I groaned and stomped my feet, and began moving towards the door. Mommy still didn't appreciate this and said "Make that 30 spanks and no dessert after dinner tonight." I forced a smile onto my face and followed Mommy out the door, determined not to make the situation worse for myself.

As we were walking down the street, I couldn't help imagining every car that drove past slowing down to get a better look at me, every pedestrian on the street hiding snickers and giggles at my expense. Ultimately, no one speaks to us or even overtly acknowledges me. Mommy does stop to pet a dog who is out for a walk with their owner, leaving be blushing furiously, but the dog owner is nice enough to pretend he doesn't notice me on a leash, saving me from the humiliation of having to speak.

A few blocks later, we were approaching the park. I could see, waiting right outside the main entrance to the park one of Mommy's friends who I had been instructing to call "Aunt Kristin", who absolutely loved to tease me. As we approached the front of the park, Mommy excitedly walks up and hugs her friend and the two of them exchange pleasantries before Aunt Kristin reaches over and toussles my hair and says "Hey there, little pamper princess!" I blush deeply, look down at the ground and try to ignore her until Mommy says "40 spanks..." which immediately makes me look up, force another smile spite of my blushes, and say "Hello Aunt Kristin!" and give her a very forced hug.

Finally, all three of us head into the park together and Mommy moves towards a bench. Mommy looks at me and smiles and says "Since this is your reward for being so good, why don't you pick what equipment you want to go play on! Mommy will be over here on this bench!" As I turn towards the playground equipment Kristin grabs my leash from Mommy and slyly says "Come on diaper cuck, I'll push you on the swing. I know it's your favorite!!" Knowing I already have a very red bottom in my future, I resignedly say "Yes Aunt Kristin" and follow her towards the swings. As I sat down, I could see why she chose to call me "diaper cuck". Mommy had sat down and a man she had clearly arranged to meet had come and sat beside her. I could see Mommy point towards me and both of them start to laugh, as Aunt Kristin began to push me on the swings.

I still felt like every eye in the park was on me as I began to blush again and felt tears in my eyes. I had never felt so small, so vulnerable, so defeated. Aunt Kristin could clearly read how I was feeling in my body language as she said in a mocking tone, "Awww, cheer up princess! This is your big fun day out!!! You're dressed so adorably and you're having the kind of fun day every little girl dreams of! It's only fair that after your fun day out, your Mommy gets to have a fun night in later!" I let out a small sob as she pushed me higher and higher on the swing set, making me more and more obvious to the crowd in the park and making sure I could only get occasional glimpses as Mommy and her new friend moved closer and closer together on their shared bench...

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Mommy requested that I write this story for my blog, I took some creative liberties with it. This is a work of fiction, based on some shared fantasies between me and my Mommy! If there's any other topics you'd like to see me write about, feel free to share them with my Mommy @mamamaia03 she's the BEST

[foodlesoodlesdoodles]

HEEHEEHEE I AM KICKING MY FEET AND TWIRLING MY HAIR! I AM IN A GOOD MOOD! DO YOU HAVE AMY FUN FACTS ABOUT THE ULTIMATE SILLY BILLY, BES 🤡

I DO!!!!!!!!!

SHE…. THEY… HE…. Bes is an all pronouns kind of fellow. They like to switch it up at the drop of a hat, and it’s effective purely because they are so androgynous not in just the usual way— but also like. She has some chest hair and boobs, and she can have stubble all she wants.

She also has a sibling-like thing with Pucci going on TO ME, which makes shit tragic but don’t worry about that right now. By the time of SDC she’s 18 and getting into so much mischief.

Now I’m sure . you’ve noticed a theme. okay yeah I do pair her up with polnareff but that’s just because they are SO funny to me. Bes banters consistently and it flows kinda nice with Pols whole deal and they are both goofy tragic bastards who can’t catch a break. She ,, DID turn him into a clown momentarily (Jean Pierrot Polnareff…) I mean this as in Bes used to be in a traveling freak show and she had really bad facial dysphoria for a long time, even after Dio.

I don’t think I’ve ever explained her stand fully? It’s a fully functioning, large circus. Except it’s kind of looping, and it’s like a spiders web to catch stand users. Once you’re in, you can’t really get out unless you find a highly specific ‘door’ (can range to an actual door to something like a cabinet door, trapdoor, etc). And she can pull off any attractions she wants here, and the moment you use up three lives you get clown-ified and your soul is hers for the keeping.

Considering the ridiculous ass shit circuses in cartoons do, as you can imagine she is hilariously a formidable foe. The thing is though? She didn’t actually want to hurt anyone, and this kind of thing was justified to herself by she’s not hurting them physically and pretty much every other guardian in her life (Dio manor) was like ‘no no this is good’. So.

I was hoping to do a second draft, but here’s Fiesta! SDC arc she looks more like a regular clown, but DiU onward she starts turning into Biblical Ringmaster as Bes gets control of her own life. It’s a lot to explain, but. She’s very sad to me and I want her to be happy. She knows they weren’t good people, but pretty much all of her mentors and friends died 😭😭 she’s grown so she doesn’t hold a grudge, even if Dio was kinda like her dad. She’s trying hard to get those deep seeded things out of her head and be a good person.