#this is the only way I can feel normal about all this

[caffeinewitchcraft]

I love writing. The first thing I do when I get up is write, the last thing I do before I go to sleep is write. Between reading horror/fantasy/speculative fiction books, I read books on craft by anyone and everyone. My passions in life are the craft of writing AND storytelling.

Note: those are two different things. Having a story to tell and craft (the way we tell that story).

I am not saying that people who use AI to tell a story don't have a story to tell. They do! But that doesn't make them writers.

We have folktales across every culture about not accepting ourselves for who we are and that way leading to madness. Your version might go a little something like this:

A person who feels different than everyone else wishes to whoever is listening that they wake up beautiful/smart/charming. In the morning they wake to a mirror at the foot of their bed. Their reflection is all of those things! Filled with confidence, they go out into the world but, before meeting anyone, they catch sight of themself in a window. Their reflection normal but (having seen themself in the mirror) they now perceive themself as hideous.

They rush back home to check. In the mirror they're beautiful! What a relief. They stare deeply into the glass. Slowly their hair grows tangled and their clothing ragged. Days and weeks and months pass. They can't do anything without watching themself do it in the mirror. Dishes are done at the sink with the mirror blocking the window they used to love looking at the garden through. They wake with the mirror in bed with them rather than their lover. Etc, etc.

Using generative AI is like that mirror. Surface level, it makes things pretty. It may be entertaining and it may convey the story you want to convey.

But it's not your voice. It's your story, but not your voice. And it will trick you into thinking there is something wrong with your voice, that the way you tell stories is hideous, that you are incapable of the craft of writing. It will lie to you and you will live your whole life feeling disconnected from your own stories because something else is telling them for you.

That's why I'm against AI. Because I love writing. I love the way people tell stories, imperfect or perfect, because it's people telling them. Writers grow and change. Their punctuation choice, their word choice, their choice of form matter to a written story. There is connection in those decisions. A deeper level to a story that AI can never touch, only a person can.

So, please. Give your own voice a chance to grow and be heard.

[laprasboat]

sometimes i read posts about dan and phil's relationship and all i can think about is how it feels like the person who wrote the post has 0 examples of loving, healthy relationships around them

don't get me wrong, certain aspects of their lives/relationship are special and unique

but often people point out stuff that should be normal in relationships, i don't mean this in a "their relationship is nothing special" kind of way, but it makes me sad to hear so many people say they don't think they'll ever have something like that in their lives

having a partner who loves you, cares about you and genuinely enjoys spending time with you, someone who looks at you like you're the greatest thing since sliced bread is not an unachievable feat, a privilege reserved only for the most special people

sure, you're probably not gonna meet them as a teenager and build a career together (and not everybody wants that either) but i don't think that dan and phil's relationship would be less meaningful or beautiful if they met when they were 30 or if they never made it on youtube

i think there are just so few examples of couples (especially queer couples) both online and in media in general, that have healthy relationships, not to mention that so many of us were never taught to communicate effectively (speaking about people in general, not a specific demographic of people)

and all of this just reminds me of the numerous dating coaches on the internet (this specific rant was triggered by one of them) especially the people who treat romantic relationships like a really complicated game

i saw a video one of those "dating and love coaches" made about how your partner should not be your friend and how you shouldn't feel comfortable enough to talk to them about anything and everything, that's what your "girl friends" are for

and maybe im a bit biased, growing up i watched my parents who were (and still are) very much in love with one another and absolutely are each others best friends, but i cannot imagine anything more sad than dating being nothing more than a transactional relationship

i know im just ranting at this point and can't even tell how coherent this is, but if you're still reading this, i need you to understand

and i cannot stress this enough

you absolutely can (if you want) have a relationship that makes you as happy as dan and phil's relationship makes them

no you cannot have a relationship just like theirs, because you aren't them, what they have works for them and you need to figure out what works for you, what makes you happy

but don't let anyone convince you that you're supposed to be unhappy and that you should just settle for the relationship that makes you the least miserable

[earthtooz]

lighter x gn!mechanic!reader, 1k wc lighter is down bad for reader. like. DOWN BAD, lots of cute banter, pining from both.

Whenever you visit Blazewood, the Sons of Calydon mark it as a significant day in their metaphorical calender.

You’re their precious mechanic, the one who ensures all of their bikes and engines are running smooth for any operations (read: trouble) they get themselves into. Having been long-term friends with Caesar, you make the effort of travelling from Sixth Street to the outskirts of New Eridu every few weeks. Granted, for how many times you’ve travelled between the two places, you’ve grown rather close to the tight-knit biker gang, so it's an exciting time for all.

However, the reason it’s marked down is because they know it’s a special occasion where they can all tease a certain, aloof boxer a bit more than usual.

“Y/n!” Burnice’s voice cuts through the bustling atmosphere of Cheesetopia, capturing everyone’s attention as you walk through the door of the diner.

They all wave you over the booth they sat in, Burnice and Luci shuffling over so you can sit down with them. You don’t see the way Caesar nudges Lighter as you settle down opposite him. 

“How was your trip?” Caesar asks. 

“Good, a little tired though,” your yawn is perfectly timed. “My limbs still feel stiff.” 

“Oh no! Do you need a little rest?”

“No need, I wanna get started working as soon as possible, I'm itching to tinker some engines."

The dark-haired across from you chuckles, adjusting his sunglasses to sit higher on his nose bridge. “There’s the Y/n we all know. If you need a little help, let me know, I’m happy to lend a hand.” 

The group giggles between themselves.

“Thanks, Lighter!” 

The giggles intensify when Lighter’s ears flush red at the tips. 

This is why your visits are a marked occurrence: because the rare blush and nervous appearance that overtakes his normally cool and collected character is incredibly entertaining, and watching him bumbling about around you is a hard opportunity to come by. All Lighter can do is admit defeat and be susceptible to all the teasing that’s sent his way, because he might as well accept it.

He’ll turn a blind eye to the blonde heads popping around the garage every so often as he helps you out in the garage as long as it means they leave the both of you alone. He’ll ignore the giggles of the girls as they listen in on the quiet conversation exchanged between you both in the dim lighting of the dreary space.

“Any biker gang fights happen recently?” You ask whilst observing the rear wheel.

“Nah,” Lighter grunts, “just a few challenges here and there.”

You extend your hand out to him. “Spanner, please.” He places the tool comfortably in your hands and you resume working. “A few challenges? Did you win?”

“‘course. Wouldn’t be a good champion if I lost.”

“Sounds easy in theory,” you murmur, peeking around the bike. “I bet you don’t even know the names of the gangs you won against.”

His silence is the only answer you need and you sneak a smug glance at him. You look away before you could notice the red blush creeping up his neck. “So what if I don’t? I won against them, ain’t that all that matters?”

“Sure. Guess your memory gets knocked out of you after a couple fights.” You giggle at your own joke.

“C'mon, quit teasin’ me.”

“Sorry, just can’t help it when it took you almost five months to remember my name.” It’s light-hearted, he can hear the smile in your voice. 

“Gosh, you just don’t know how to let things go,” he counters, a smile of his own developing.

“Nah, it’s just fun to tease you.” Then, you stand up with a grunt, looking at your handiwork closely one last time before making your way to your workbench. “Besides, it’s not everyday I get to interact with a cool guy like you.”

Lighter’s heart skips a beat in his chest before jumping against his ribcage. “You think I’m cool?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” You ask. “You’re the cool guy who cares about everyone, and that’s a good thing. I like that about you.”

Oh, you’re gonna kill him. He’s not gonna make it out of the garage if you continue this onslaught of compliments. He doesn’t really want you to stop either, wants you to say something that really shows how you feel about him, like how you think he’s handsome, or that he’s admirable, or better yet, that you like him as well.

‘I like that about you’, ‘I like … you’, yeah. That’s also good enough for now. 

Instead, you fall silent as you rearrange all your tools, locking the box that cuts through the tense atmosphere with a ‘click’. 

“Well, I’m beat,” you huff, stretching your arms over your head, “my back hurts and I’m hungry.” 

“You’ve been working real hard, let me treat you to dinner.”

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

A few minutes later, you end up at the Fuel Truck, enjoying some food together and continuing your conversation in the cool, breezy night of Blazewood. It’s easy being with you, effortless, doesn’t really burn through his energy like some other social interactions do, and Lighter can’t help but feel like this is how it’s meant to be. Sharing stories, talking about the important and mundane alike, he doesn’t know when you became more than the cute mechanic Caesar was good friends with, but he’s glad he finally got your name down on the sixth time of trying. 

He tucks a strand of stray hair away from your face before you can get it in your mouth, and the grin you give him almost paralyses him. 

Plates are emptied, drinks finished, and dessert is done, but you’re still talking into the late of the night, until the employees need to wipe down the bar and call it a day. All good things come to an end, and Lighter wishes you could stay with the Sons of Calydon for longer than just a few days, but you have your own business in Sixth Street, so he monopolises your time whenever he can.

Which is how he ends up walking you to your motel, letting the long day draw to a close.

“Thank you for dinner, Lighter, today was fun.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and full. “No problem, it’s my pleasure.”

“Come back tomorrow, yeah? Swing by the garage anytime you want.”

“Anytime?” The biker rubs his chin. “Careful with your generosity, I might end up annoying you.”

“I doubt it.”

“And if I overstay my welcome?” 

“Then apologise by keeping me company.”

You shoot him a wink before going up the stairs of the motel, quickly disappearing from his sight as he laughs to no one in particular. He lightly punches his chest, as if trying to tell his hammering heart to calm down. 

Yeah. You really are trying to kill him. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[henry7931]

Billy’s College Adventure Part 2

Samuel:

“Oh fuck!!!”

I scream out as Billy’s body pours out cum all over his slim chest. I stare down at cute dick I know have possession over.

That’s when the doorbell starts ringing. Well he’s quicker than I thought. I better get his body cleaned up. I quickly wipe off Billy’s chest and grab his shirt.

The doorbell rings over and over again.

“I’m coming! Just hold on a sec!”

I look through the peephole and my body waiting outside for me to open the door.

“Who is it?,” I say just to mess with him.

“YOU KNOW WHO IT IS!”

“Hmmm… well I wasn’t expecting company. Not sure who you could be. Have we met before?”

“Dude! I’m in your body, you’re in mine. Can we just cut to the point and you let me in!”

“What’s the secret password?”

“Purple! Now let me in!”

“No… the password isn’t a ‘word.’ It’s a gesture…”

“Hey it’s me! In your body, what’s up? Is this good enough?”

I bust out laughing, I thought he was going to flick me off.

I open up the door and Billy comes storming in.

“You know! It’s one thing for you to highjack my body! But it’s another for you to LITERALLY LOCK ME OUT,” says Billy who’s now in my (our I should say his) face.

“Oof! You got a spicy side! I like it!,” I say back with a big grin.

“Are got to be kidding me! You know what, I’ll fix this.”

I watch as Billy tries his hardest to switch us back. He tries for about a minute before giving up.

“Fuck! Why can’t I switch us back?”

“Oh Billy, you really don’t know the first thing about your powers do you? You’re a swapper. A swapper can’t un-swap somebody who’s also a swapper. Now you can swap others that I’ve swapped but you can’t swap us. Only I can now.”

I watch as Billy paced around the room struggling with the fact that I’m in control here.

“So I have a few questions,” he says to me.

“Sure!”

“First off, who the hell are you?!?”

“Well currently I’m you. But normally I’m Samuel, Sam for short.”

“Great. So you obviously are a—”

“Swapper.”

“Yes, you’re a swapper. Like me which I didn’t even know others existed outside of me.”

“Well other swappers are a little more quiet about their abilities. You just have yourself away earlier today.”

“I know, I figured that out pretty quick. This feels weird, normally it’s me hitting someone with the body swap surprise. Wait a minute, why did you swap that guy and that professor?”

“Great question! That Dufus really pissed me off. And I don’t really care for that professor so freaking him out too was just an added bonus.”

I watch as he tries his hardest to get a good read on me. It’s so refreshing to even talk about this someone who’s not my family. Granted the only other swapper in my family was my great uncle. He was kind enough to leave me a rule book.

“So you just did that to be petty?”

“Well yeah I guess, sounds terrible when you put it that way. But trust me that guy had it coming.”

“That seems pretty immature of you.”

“Oh so you’ve never just swapped with someone for the hell of it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying… I mean of course I have but it’s been years!”

“Geez Billy, didn’t know you set the roles for the swapper community.”

“Shut up, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying you really freaked those two out. Maybe like a simple prank could have worked.”

“Billy, I don’t think you understand how different the two of us are from the rest of the world. Most swapper do way worse things— sides I would have eventually swapped them back.”

Billy gets quiet for a second. I watch as he flops down on his couch. 

“So now that you kidnapped my body, what’s your plan here?,” says Billy.

“Finally! That was the question I’ve been waiting on. So I’ll be honest with you. I’ve personally never met another swapper outside of a family member who I really didn’t get to know. But he did leave me with a lot about our powers. And I want to start really using mine. But the kind of stuff I want to do is hard to do alone. So I guess in the nicest way I can say this… I’ll give you your body back as long as you join me in my exploration. Thoughts?”

“Ummm… is this going to be dangerous or potentially hurt someone?”

“Ahhhh no, at least not directly.”

“What do you mean by not directly?”

“Well I guess you can either find out and get your body back or just stay as me until I decide to swap us back. Which could be a very long time… years maybe.”

“Ugh fine! I’ll do whatever.”

“Cool!”

2 Hours Later…

Billy and I crashed out on his couch. It took him a bit to speak to me but once he got going he had so many questions about me. I let him ask me about my life, my family, etc. and he eventually started to open up about himself as well.

“So let me get this straight? You forced your babysitter to swap bodies with you like every time he came over??,” I ask him.

“Oh yeah! Honestly, I feel a little bad about it now because he’s so nice. Literally has no hard feelings. I was just a nightmare growing up. I could never stay in my body when I was young and trust me my dads tried hard! I even ran away a couple of times with his body. They of course found me every time. It sounds terrible but I really enjoyed being him.”

“That’s funny, I used to get really annoyed easy at family functions. I was a very emotional teen and my dad’s brother was a bit of a prick. Always thought he was jealous since he didn’t get the swapper trait and I did. I would literally swap everyone around just to piss all of them off. I’d even make sure everyone swapped with someone who I knew they would hate to be… oh this one time. I swapped my uncle and our dog for like a week. I got into sooo much trouble but it was so worth it.”

“Oh god not the dog!!”

“Yep! Even took my dog to the park. It was hilarious!”

We went back and forth on our swap stories for hours. I door dashed us a bunch of food (on Billy’s card of course, I knew he would be cool with it the second I heard his parents are loaded lol).

“So do you have like any booze here?,” I asked him.

“Oh yeah! Want a glass of wine?”

“Sure!”

“Any preferences?”

“I mean I have your pallet so whatever you like lol.”

“Trueee, I guess I should asked for me haha.”

“Well I prefer red wines.”

“Gross!”

“You’re gonna like it I promise.”

We both crack open two bottles of wine and turn on a movie in the background. After a couple of glasses I started to feel a little frisky and maybe a little too open

“So I have a confession to make,” I say to him.

“Oh god, what is it?”

“It’s nothing bad! Oh god, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Sit it out Sam!”

“Well before you got here, I um… I may have enjoyed your equipment.”

Billy sits up and for a second I thought he was going to be mad at me.

“Sam did you jerk off in my body?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t even explored your body, especially since I just rushed over here. And you explore all of mine huh?”

“Yeah I don’t know, it’s been a minute since I’ve swapped with a cute guy. I may have just lost control.”

“Ohhhh so you think I’m cute?” he gives me a cheeky grin.

“Ugh, don’t get too excited.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair for me to have my turn,” he says with a bigger more cynical grin.

“What?!?”

“You heard me! I’m forced to be you so it’s only fair for me to have my fun too!”

“Fine!,” I say back. I feel a rush hit me. I’ve never been around a guy that’s in my body talking about using my body that way. It’s kinda hot.

“So what you’re gonna go to your room or do it right here?,” I say to him sarcastically.

He takes a big swig from the bottle of wine and pulls my shirt off.

“You wanna come watch the show?,” he says winking at me.

Before I can answer Billy grabs my hand and pulls me up. I follow him to his bedroom.

Billy pulls down my sweatpants and hops onto his bed.

“What do you think? Do you look… sexy?”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Okay… here is the big reveal!,” he says to me slowly lowering my underwear.

“1..2..3…”

Billy pulls my underwear down and my dick flies out. It’s completely hard.

“Nice!! 10 out 10 dick right here,” he says holding my dick.

“You gonna…”

“Slow down cowboy! It’s my turn to explore.”

I watch Billy gently fondle my goods. I can feel his dick pulsating— I can barely hide the fact that I’m just as turned on.

“So Sam, now it’s my turn to give you two options. You can hop into bed with me and we can full around or you can stand right in that exact spot with my hard on all night. Which one will it be?”

“Bed.”

“Good, now get over here!”

Billy nearly rips the clothes off of his body.

“Is it weird that I want to kiss you right now,” he says to me.

“Nah, just a little self love,” I say back.

We start making out and he’s such a great kisser. I feel him reach down and he starts fondling his dick.

“You’re so sexy,” I say to him.

He kiss my neck and says, “your body or me?”

“Your presence, your body. But you all around.”

“So are you, even though you’re a bit of a dick.”

“What turns you on the most Billy?,” I ask him.

He lifts up his head, “you really want to know?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Feet.”

Somehow, someway, I got even harder from the words that came out of his mouth.

“Is that weird?”

“Fuck no because that’s what turns me on too.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope! Your feet are so sexy…,” I say to him.

He looks at mine and grins.

“You have cute feet too.”

“Would it be weird if we…,” I say gesturing to his toes.

“Nope!”

I use Billys feet and wrap them around my dick. I start stroking back and forth. He lets out grunts in between.

I maneuver back and forth using his toes to grip.

“Don’t stop Sam! Fuckkkk,” he yells out.

I go faster and faster…

Billy is moaning sooo loud…

And then he screams out, “IM CUMMING!!!”

Cum squirts out on to his feet covering them.

He grabs his foot and does something so hot. I watch as he licks foot clean with my mouth.

“Shit… that was amazing…”

[ellecdc]

always there

prompt from @unstablereader: What about alpha!Barty and omega!Treasure where he's been helping her with heats as friends do, but then another alpha actually takes interest in her and they both kind of flip out. Reader has a bit of a meltdown because "that's not HER alpha" and Barty gets pissed because "that's MY omega"

alpha!Barty Crouch Jr x omega!reader who already has an alpha [1.9k words]

CW: fem!reader, omegaverse, marking/claiming, speaking of heat cycles, scenting, brief angst, all fluff

Anyone from the outside looking in probably would have thought Barty was looking at you rather predatorily. And to some extent he might have been, but it was only because he was worried about you. 

Dorcas’ birthday had fallen on a Friday and she was very much looking forward to throwing a party the day-of instead of “the day after when the novelty of growing older and wiser has worn off.” 

The beginning of your heat cycle started on Saturday.

Barty had been keeping religious track of your cycle for years; he had been ever since you first presented back at school. Too young to be marked or claimed by an alpha of your own, Barty has been able to help you through your heats; whatever you needed. Whether it was scenting, feeling secure in the presence of an alpha who promised to shield you from any unwanted attention, or a knot, Barty was there.

He’d always be there.

Which is why he had shown up to your flat the morning of the party and asked if you didn’t think you ought to stay home tonight. 

“She’s really looking forward to it, though.” You’d said of Dorcas who, was indeed looking forward to celebrating her birthday day-of with all of her friends, and would have been more than understanding of your absence. 

The day before your heat wasn't always too bad. Sometimes you experienced a fever, but not always. Sometimes you were anxious or fidgety, but not always. But your scent was certainly stronger (especially to alphas with a certain proclivity to it), and Barty worried about you.

Generally, you could manage to keep your normal routine the day before your heat.

Normal routine being school, work, and the ability to bathe, feed and clean up after yourself. 

Barty did not think that extended to entertaining a large group of people - many of which would likely be Gryffindors seeing as Dorcas had gone and shacked up with one - for an entire evening.

He told you as much.

You pulled your lips between your teeth as you considered Barty’s words, fiddling with the hem of the jumper of his you were currently wearing; yet another sign of your incoming heat. 

Suddenly, you looked up at him. “You’ll be there, though. Right?” 

Barty smiled immediately. “I’ll be there, treasure. By your side, of course.”

Something about the way he spoke to you had you folding yourself into his chest, a very welcome change indeed, and inhaling deeply. He held you tighter in response.

”And can I borrow your Guns ‘n Rose’s t-shirt?” 

You barely had the question out before Barty was agreeing. “Yes, you can borrow my Guns ‘n Rose’s t-shirt. That’s what this was really about, hm? I’m just an extra closet for you.” He teased.

You giggled into his chest before pulling back to look up at him. You weren’t flushed yet, your eyes were bright and alert, and he would be there.

He would always be there.

”Okay fine you can go to the party.” He ‘relented’ theatrically, earning him a cackling laugh in response.

”How very magnanimous of you.” 

He flashed you a boastful smirk. “That’s me; Barty the Great.” 

“Wear the shirt today please?” You called after him as he turned to leave instead of gracing him with a response. That was fine, he already knew you thought he was great. 

So, yeah. He wore his beloved Guns ‘n Roses t-shirt all day, making sure to even work up a light sweat so that his scent blanketed you tighter, and he met you before the party so that the two of you could go together.

“So, you’re telling me there’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay in tonight?” He asked as he lounged lazily on your bed whilst you got ready for the party. 

“Why do you keep trying to squirrel me away?” You laughed as you hiked up a pair of trousers over your hips. 

Barty scoffed and held out a Rubik’s cube that he’d solved, scrambled, solved, and scrambled again whilst you changed as if you’d said something barmy. “‘Cause I want you all to myself, obviously?”

”Obviously.” You drawled back at him, pulling his your shirt over your head. 

“You know, Tres, I think the question should be less why I keep trying to squirrel you away and why you’re so hellbent on going.” He retorted, moving to sit up properly and toss the Rubik’s cube over his shoulder unceremoniously. 

“Because if I stay home, you’ll stay with me. Yeah?” You asked plainly, moving to stand in front of Barty with your hands on your hips and a displeased pout on your lips that Barty itched to boop with his finger but refrained. 

“‘Course.”

Your lips pursed. “‘Course. And then two of us will be missing from Dorcas’ party.” 

“Oh my gods this keeps coming back to Dorcas’ party.” He let out with a groan before falling back spread eagle on your bed. 

“Get up. We’re leaving.” You called over your shoulder as you strutted out of your room.

So you left.

And you went to Dorcas’ party.

So, yeah. Barty was leaning against the wall of (Marlene &) Dorcas’ flat pretending to listen to whatever Regulus’ dumb boyfriend was so excited about as he watched you rather predatorily. 

“Barty, you’re being terribly rude.” Regulus hissed, finally managing to encourage Barty’s eyes from you.

”Yeah? You’ll have to bring it up with management.” He drawled in a bored manner, smirking at the flash of indignance in Regulus’ eyes. 

And then he heard the pitch of your voice raise higher and his sights were back on you.

Back on you, and Caradoc Dearborn (if Barty wasn’t mistaken - he never did bother learning all of the Gryffindor’s names) as you shifted your weight between your feet. 

“You must be close though, yeah? You smell amazing.” He could hear the bloke say as he flashed you a charming smile.

Barty wanted to punch the teeth right out of his mouth. 

“Oh, look at that.” James commented casually. “Think this might be the year Y/N finds an alpha of her own?”

She has an alpha of her own, Barty nearly growled before the blood drained from his face. 

Except you didn’t have an alpha of your own - not in any way that would matter to Caradoc or any other alpha who might recognise the slightly sweeter smell coming from you tonight. 

Maybe not even in any way that would matter to you. 

But shit, Barty was yours.

He was your friend, your Barty, your alpha; whatever you needed him to be he’d be it. 

And then your eyes met his.

And your lips parted. 

And Barty would always be there.

So he quirked his eyebrow at you - do you need me?

Your lips closed and pressed into a straight line - help. 

He’s pretty sure he stepped on James’ shoe and spilled some of Regulus’ drink on him as he brushed past the pair, but Barty’s mind was singular and zeroed in. 

“Need a refill, Tres?” He asked lowly, keeping his gaze on Caradoc as he sidled up behind you. 

“I was just about to offer her one myself.” Caradoc offered with another toothy grin, though the smile didn’t seem to meet his eyes as he met Barty’s gaze. 

“She’s fine.”

“Do you speak for her, mate?” Caradoc asked as he leaned against the door frame with an ease he clearly didn’t feel if the tendons in his arms told Barty anything. 

“What exactly is it you came to ask her, mate?” Barty asked then, watching Caradoc’s eyes shift between his and yours before he straightened. 

“I figured a pretty little omega like herself might need an alpha.” He responded simply. 

“I already have one…” You mumbled, and whilst Caradoc spoke over you, causing him to miss this key detail, Barty sure didn’t. 

“I was simply here to offer my services.” He carried on chippily. 

“She isn’t a commodity.” Barty spat before looking down as you instinctively leaned into him. “Do you want his help, treasure?” 

You quickly shook your head and one of your hands wound itself into the fabric of his shirt. He covered your hand with his. 

“No.” You managed to squeak. 

Caradoc tilted his head curiously at you. “No? Not even this close to a heat?” 

“I’m surprised you even managed to pick that up with how much she smells like me, Dearborn.” Barty spat then. 

“I don’t see a mark on her, Junior, so I sort of figured it was fair play.”

“I have an Alpha…” You tried again, squaring your shoulders. “I’ve always had an alpha.” 

Caradoc all but sneered at you. “No mark means no bond.”

A sardonic smile took over Barty’s face as he pushed the hair away from your shoulder, slowly bending at the waist to bring his mouth to your neck all whilst maintaining eye contact with Caradoc. 

His lips ghosted the expanse of skin where your scent was the strongest, and Barty found himself nearly drunk off it. Heart a riot within his chest; Barty wondered if the fluttering of your pulse beneath his lips would match the cadence of his own. 

“What do you say, Tres?” He murmured, breath fanning across your skin as he watched Caradoc’s eyes narrow and jaw twitch. He could believe he was really doing this. 

“Please.” Was your immediate response. 

His serious facade almost fell completely when you surprised a breathy chuckle out of him. 

“A simple yes or no would have sufficed, sweetheart.” He said before he pressed a delicate kiss to the space, causing you to nod your head in an undeniable yes. “But… since you asked so nicely.” 

And he latched onto your scent point and bit down; hard. 

Caradoc - apparently no longer interested in getting you that drink - was long gone by the time Barty opened his eyes again and pulled off of you, licking the wound once before leaning back to admire his work; memorialized in your skin, two crescent moons. Him.

You turned to look at him with tears in your eyes.

His stomach fell out of his arse.

“Treasure? Hey, Y/N. What- are you okay?” He rapid fired, and then you were in his arms, kissing him everywhere you could reach. 

“Thank you. Oh my god. Thank you.” You cried, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling him in for a deep, lingering kiss. 

Barty mumbled a question into your mouth until you finally relented your (much appreciated) assault on his lips. “What are you thanking me for?” 

You turned bashful. Barty loved it. 

Barty loved you.

“Claiming me.” You admitted shyly. “I-... I realised I…I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want any alpha.”

You looked at him as though you’d just been given the gift of sight; finally seeing him clearly for the very first time. 

“I just want you.” 

“I’m yours, treasure.” Barty vowed, lowering his forehead to yours. “I’m all yours.”

[cognitiveoverload]

A temporary goodbye (Front Man / Hwang In-Ho x reader)

summary: The first game is about to begin, and the Front Man needs to talk to his right hand man - who happens to be a little more than that.

tags: secret relationship, established relationship, fem!reader in mind

note: I had this scene in my head and just had to write it.

You’re standing next to the Front Man in the control room in silence, patiently waiting for his orders as always. There’s a lot going on in your head, so it’s not a surprise that you find yourself stealing a glance at him more and more often, because he’s the reason why you’re a little distracted today. This is the first day of the games, and while normally it’s a routine task, this year things are different. Everyone can feel it, but very few know the reason.

“I’ll watch the first game in my room,” he suddenly announces, and before you could react, he walks away. You let out a sigh under your mask, disappointed that you can’t talk to him before he springs into action, but then he calls back, his voice cutting through the silence. “Bunny, with me.”

The mask luckily hides the wide grin that appears on your face upon hearing him say this. You were supposed to have a proper code name, but he decided that Bunny suited you more, which is why you began to use it, and he even got you a bronze rabbit mask that matched his own in style. As usual, you follow him without a question, passing by the staff members who are preparing for the first game.

In his private room, the Front Man sits in the armchair and pours himself a drink, and eventually he takes off his mask too, feeling comfortable and safe enough to let it go temporarily. You can feel your heart beating in your throat as you wait for him to show any sign that he remembers you’re there. Sometimes he gets so lost in his job that you have to remind him of your presence.

But not this time. Now he clears his throat and raises his hand to signal you to go closer. “Say it,” he orders, although his voice is gentle, as it is every time he talks to you. 

Since you’re obedient enough, you pad closer and stop by his side, a small smile creeping on your lips when you look at him. Four years. You’ve been working together for four years, but he only took off his mask around you two years ago. This was his way of showing his trust, something you truly appreciated. 

“Take off the mask, we’re alone.” He finally looks up at you, a faint smirk visible as he watches you follow his order. Once it’s placed on top of his, he sneaks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. “So? What’s on your mind? I can see something’s bothering you.”

Letting out a long sigh, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and lean in to give him a tentative kiss. “Are you sure about this? Joining the game, I mean,” you clarify.

In-ho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You know perfectly well why I’m doing that. But it’s okay, you don’t have to worry,” he assures you as he rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin to ground you. Because he knows you. He knows you’re spiraling, he knows you think something bad will happen, which always kicks your brain into overdrive. 

“If you don’t get out in time, I’ll be stuck babysitting the VIPs,” you say with a pout.

“You’d be fine.” When you give him a sceptical look, he kisses you again, and he even moves his hand closer to your inner thigh. The moment a soft moan escapes your lips, though, he stops. “Since when do you doubt me?” he wonders, his eyes examining your face to see the reaction.

Shaking your head, you rest your forehead against his. “I don’t doubt you, I’m just… Look, I know you can protect yourself, and you thought of everything, but we don’t know what he’s planning. He’s a ticking time bomb in there,” you explain. 

“Keep an eye on the team while I’m in the game. Everything’s supposed to go smoothly, but if something happens… take care of it.” 

You nod without hesitation, after all, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you became his right hand man. What’s happening between you–the stolen moments, the shared life back home when you’re not busy preparing for the next games–is a secret you’re keeping to yourselves. You’re the only ones who should know about it, no one else. It’s personal, and if anyone knew about this connection, they could easily use it against him. 

In the beginning, you tried to resist the pull, you tried to escape his gravitational field, but then In-ho made you understand that it was okay, that you could make this work. He would make sure you can make this work. By now, you’re sure he would go to great lengths to protect you, he would get rid of anyone who ever dared to even look at you the wrong way. 

The moment is ruined when you hear the instructions of the first game, a sign that it has begun. You both turn to the screen to watch it, but his hand is still teasing you, even if it’s nothing more but a subconscious movement. The comfortable silence between you is based on the deep understanding of each other, but you’re a little startled when he speaks up, not bothering to look at you. 

“I love you, Bunny, never forget that,” he says quietly, as if he was telling this to himself. 

A warm smile crawls on your lips. “I love you too.”

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)

COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.

I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud

TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character

CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.

This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:

“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”

But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.

“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”

This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.

At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.

“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.

And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.

“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”

At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.

Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.

One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.

“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”

You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.

“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”

You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.

“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”

You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.

“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”

He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.

“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”

He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.

I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.

Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?

And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.

They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.

With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.

Sorry. 🥺

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | S.R.

feat. Steve Rogers x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You and Steve broke up, but life as an assassin for SHIELD goes on, no matter how grueling. little did you know, Steve was suffering too, and reality is far from how it appears.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, breakups, protective!Steve, assassin work, mentions of blood and death, Steve is a bit of a munch (but he still tops you), happy ending

AN: inspired by "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart" by Taylor Swift from her album The Tortured Poets Department.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Steve left you on a random Tuesday afternoon. No fanfare, no warning, no discussion. He barely even looked at you when he shattered your heart.

In the two years you'd known him, and the six months you loved him, you'd never seen him so callous. He'd looked at motorcycles with more affection than he looked at you in that moment.

You didn't understand, couldn't understand, but it didn't matter. Your relationship was over, and your life felt like a held breath ever since.

He said he'd love you all his life, but for a man that's been alive for a century, six months was barely a blip. You were barely a blip.

But you couldn't dwell, couldn't break down like you wanted to, because you were one of the top assassin's at SHIELD, and missions didn't care about your feelings.

So you were sent out into the field, day after day, week after week, with a smile on your face and your shoulders thrown back, never ever missing your mark. And still, SHIELD demanded more of you.

Fortunately, you could do it with a broken heart.

“Agent L/N, report to Fury’s office for assignment,” the earpiece in your ear crackled to life, jarring you from the workout you were pretending to do.

“Another one? Seriously?” Nat said, looking up from the squat rack, sweat glistening along her hairline.

You shrugged. “The fun never stops,” you said with a half-hearted smile, and she rolled her eyes, returning to her reps.

As quick as you could, you pulled an oversized hoodie over your sports bra and retied your ponytail, which has fallen into sweaty disarray during your workout.

Normally, you'd change into your suit, but when Fury called, he didn't like to be kept waiting.

You take the elevator direct to his office, and when the doors roll open, you're greeted by Nick Fury, Sergeant Barnes, and, of course, the back of Steves head.

His hair has grown a little longer since you were together, and your fingers itched to run through it, to scratch his scalp in the way that makes his dark lashes flutter, to tug on his roots in the way that makes him groan low in his throat…

You shook yourself and slapped on a smile. “Good morning, Nick,” you chirped, sauntering into the room.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, offering as close to a smile as he could manage. “Have a seat.”

You perched on the edge of Bucky’s table, and he gave you a stiff nod in greeting . Steve didn't look up from the open file in front of him, but you could tell by the angle of his shoulders that he wasn't happy.

Nausea twisted in your stomach, your heart splintering a bit further, but you kept your expression pleasant.

“Would it kill you two to be a little more cheerful?” Fury quipped, and Bucky snorted. “Could all use a little more sunshine around here.” Fury winked at you, and you winked back.

Steve’s fingers tightened on the file, but you chalked it up to its contents.

“Little Miss Stabs-a-lot seems to be managing just fine for all of us,” Bucky said, his voice dry even though his eyes were smiling.

That's you, managing just fine.

Fury chuckled and passed you a similar file to Steves. “Your target is Lugoff Isaacson, HYDRA weapons director.”

You flipped through the file, finding a laundry-list of diabolical misdeeds, as well as a number of altercations with the two men beside you.

“Dinosaur’s couldn't hack it?” You teased, but only Nick laughed.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Isaacson lives like a hermit, and the only people allowed in his company are fellow HYDRA agents—” Nick paused, bracing his hands on the desk. “And pretty women.”

You heard Steve's teeth grind together, and Bucky glanced over at him, but you kept your eyes on your boss. “When do I leave?” You asked, already rising.

“Nick, she can't go in there with Isaacson alone,” Steve snapped, pushing the file away from him. His voice was rough and low, menacing, and it sent a chill up your spine.

“She certainly can,” Nick rebuffed. “Unless you want to go with her?”

Steve glared at Nick, so sharp it was practically lethal, but didn't say another word.

You felt like he stomped your heart beneath his boot, and were seized by the urge to fall at his feet and beg for a reason why he would do this to you. But instead, you flipped through the file, finding your orders in the back. “Flights at 2:30. I need to pack and get a blowout. I'll update when I land.” You tucked the file under your arm, blew Nick a kiss, and flitted back to the elevator, not sparing Steve a second glance.

He certainly wouldn't look back at you.

“How many is that this month?” You heard Bucky ask as the doors started to roll closed.

“15,” Fury answered, pride clear in his voice. “She's our most productive assassin to date.”

Steve's POV

“Don't give me that look, Rogers,” Fury droned, avoiding Steve's eye.

“She's not some goddamn chess piece you can just play however you want,” he bit, barely contained anger simmering underneath the surface. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his mouth shut during that meeting, to not grab you around the middle and run for the fucking hills.

The thought of Isaacson, that slimy rat laying a hand on you—it made Steve's mind bleed red with rage. He knew you could handle him, knew you'd make quick, clean work of the kill, but the things you'd have to endure to get that perfect opportunity…

He couldn't bear it.

“Thats exactly what she is,” Fury said, snatching the file from in front of Steve. “It's what you all are.”

Bucky scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, and Steve rose from his chair, bracing his hands on the table to lean into Fury’s smug face.

“I'm done playing your fucking games. And if you think I won't take her and leave, then you don't know me very well,” he growled.

Bucky got to his feet, metallic arm flexing as tensions mounted.

“Oh, I know you, Cap. I know you'll do whatever you need to do, move wherever the fuck I want you to move, so she stays on the damn board. Right?”

Steve grit his teeth. “And when we leave, whose going to come after us? Him?” He gestured to Bucky. “Nat? Thor? Quill? Whose it gonna be?”

Fury narrowed his eye.

“Because here's the thing you've never understood. Without us, there is no fucking SHIELD. You broke us up so she'd be free to your dirty work right? Without my interference?”

Fury scoffed and went to back away, but Bucky was standing directly behind him, blocking any escape route.

“She likes it—”

“It's killing her.” Steve cut him off. “When's the last time she had a day off? A vacation? A job that wasn't too hard for another agent, but too low profile to send us? Hm? Call her fucking sunshine while your burying her alive.”

“Steve,” Bucky warned, and the table cracked beneath Steve's hands.

“It ends now. Either SHIELD takes care of her, or I do.” Steve pushed off the desk and stormed out of the room, taking the stairs to get to the control room faster.

Nat was already there. “She just got to her apartment. Steve, she's—”

“I want eyes on her 24/7, and a team waiting to deploy within twenty miles of Isaacson bunker,” he ordered.

A chorus of ‘yessir’s’ answered him, and he sunk down in the vacant swivel chair, steepling his fingers as he watched the entrance to your apartment building, a SHIELD van idling just outside.

“Cap, listen.” Nat leaned against the control panel beside him. “This has to end, before she fucks up.”

“I know—”

“No, you don't. At this level of burnout, one misstep and that's it.”

“I know!” He barked, and the surveillance workers all jumped. “I'm fixing this. I just need a little more time.”

“She might not have time.” Nat pushed off the panel. “It might not be this mission, but it could be the next one, or the next. Stop being a fucking coward and fix it before it's too late.” She stormed off, leaving Steve staring at the monitors, his heart in his throat.

He was going to fix this. He had to fix this, before he lost you for good.

You hurried out of your apartment, dressed in slacks and blouse, wrapped up in a leather trenchcoat. The driver jumped out to greet you and took your bag, and you slipped into the backseat.

He flipped the camera to the car feed, a wonky fisheye from the dashboard, and saw you check your mascara in the mirror, faint smudges of black under your eyes, your nose kissed pink.

You'd been crying.

“I'm gonna fix it, baby,” he muttered to himself, wishing you could hear him somehow. “I promise.”

Reader's POV

You took out Isaacson without any issues, just smiled and tried to ignore the way he groped your thighs, ogled your tits. He made it too easy to slit his throat.

And as soon as you returned, there was another assignment, and another, and another, until you didn't even bother going home anymore. Which was well enough for you. You didn't care to sleep in the bed Steve held you in, or the couch you'd watched his favorite black and white movies on. Didn't care to eat in the kitchen where you taught him to make your mother's signature recipe, or shower in the stall he'd washed your hair in when you were sick. It was better to stay away from all the little reminders that you didn't imagine the whole thing.

You pretended to love being busy, treated every mission like a birthday gift, and pushed forward. Until, you were assigned to work at the Winter Gala.

SHIELD hosted the annual event as an excuse for the team to rub elbows with politicians, diplomats, and executives. You'd be masquerading as a guest, of course, but in reality you were on intel duty, eavesdropping on conversations and flirting trade secrets out of the most powerful people in the world.

One of the few perks of still being anonymous to the world.

You were dreading it. A night filled with romantic music, dancing, and drinks, watching Steve schmooze with women twice as wealthy and twice as powerful as you? You'd rather choke on your own dagger. But you were determined to look fabulous, a young woman in her glittering prime, and maybe you'd feel something besides emptiness.

Tony had a gorgeous ball gown sent to your apartment that probably cost more than your annual salary, and you spent three hours on your hair and makeup for the occasion, mainly because you kept crying it off. But at the last minute you steeled yourself and carpooled with Nat to Stark Tower.

She wolf whistled as you climbed into the car, looking downright stunning herself. “I know I'm not supposed to comment, but that fossil is going to lose his fucking mind.” She chuckled, tearing off down the street.

“Lose his mind?” You snorted inelegantly. “I can barely get a ‘hello’ out of him.”

Nat looked at you sidelong, the expression sharpened by her eyeliner. “And why do you think that is, babe?”

You didn't dare comment, didn't dare think about it. You'd never get through the night if you clung to a razor thin thread of hope.

The party was in full swing when you arrived, and you came in separately from Nat to forgo any suspicion. With a glass of champagne in hand, you circled the party, trying to tune out your own thoughts so you could absorb all the conversations going on around you.

But the noise completely stopped when your eyes met Steve's across the room.

He was dressed in an immaculately tailored Navy blue suit, with a crisp white shirt and brown leather loafers. His hair was styled back from his face, his beard freshly trimmed, and he was staring at you like hunter through a scope.

“Y/n, sweetheart, come with me for a moment,” Tony appeared to your left, startling you out of your reverie. “There's someone I want you to meet.” He winked, and you flashed a toothy smile, even though you felt like screaming.

“Lead the way, Mr. Stark,” you cooed, for the benefit of anyone in earshot.

Tony led you away, but you could feel Steve's eyes burning a hole in your back, tracking you through the crowd.

“Alex, this is Lydia, the daughter of a colleague of mine. You both attended Stanford!” Tony lied through his teeth to a handsome, dark haired gentleman, and you picked it up without delay.

“Oh, of course! It's such a pleasure to finally meet you!” You gushed, sliding onto the stool beside the stranger. “Tell me, what was your favorite time of year on campus?” You brushed your fingers along his forearm, noting the model of the Rolex on his wrist, the designer of his suit.

“Fall, of course. Can't beat those colors,” Alex grinned, and you fawned like it was the most ground breaking thing you'd ever heard.

Tony left you to it, and twenty minutes later you were tucked into a booth with Alex, his arm slung over your shoulders, and his phone face up and unlocked right in front of you. Oblivious to the way you scanned every message that came through.

Alex leaned closer, his nose brushing the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow a shiver of revulsion. His hand came up to cup your cheek as you wracked you mind for a way out of this—

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Trevais, but I need to steal Lydia for a moment.” Nat appeared suddenly beside the table, looking smug, and Alex scowled.

“Right now? Really?” He argued.

“I'm afraid so.” Nat batted her lashes and Alex immediately caved.

“Fine, I'll see you later then?” He winked, alluding to the room key he slipped into your bag a few minutes prior.

“Perhaps.” You winked back, playing coy, and he grinned like a fool. “What's going on?” You hissed as Nat led you out of the party and down an dark, empty hall. "I was in the middle of something��"

“You'll see,” she whispered back, stopping at a door and doing a quick sweep before pulling it open and ushering you inside.

The door slammed shut behind you.

“Nat, what—”

The lights came on in the room, dim and golden to reveal the luxurious study you were standing in, all black leather and granite, shelves of books and expensive furniture.

But you barely registered any of that, because Steve Rogers was waiting for you by the window. Moonlight kissed his face, highlighting the flawless angles on his bone structure, and your mouth ran dry, your heart falling through the floor.

“Uh, is there a problem, Captain Rogers?” You asked, propping up the professional barrier despite the urge to launch yourself at him, the need to kiss him, or strangle him, pushing against the underside of your skin.

When he looked at up you, the air was sucked from the room. His eyes were stormy, fogged with sorrow, water collecting on his lower lashes.

“You really have turned espionage into an art form,” he chuckled, his voice thick with emotion. “Like you're having the time of your life.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“But that's not true, is it? You're as miserable as I am.”

You shook your head. “I—I’m fine.”

He huffed a laugh, pushing off the window sill. “You put on a good act, honey. But I can tell when you're performing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, indignation flaring in your gut. “What do you want, Steve? You haven't spoken to me in months.”

He grimaced, a look of genuine pain crossing his face. “Y/n, I—”

“You disappeared for two weeks after dumping me out of the blue. You refuse to take missions within a hundred miles of me. You won't even train at the same time." You were yelling, unable to stop once you started. You'd kept it all bottled up for so long, there was no forcing it back now. "You've barely looked at me, Steve! It's like we never happened, like I made it all up in my head!”

“Because it was killing me!” He shouted back, and you flinched, tears pricking behind your eyes. You could count on one hand the amount of times Steve Rogers raised his voice, and it was never at you.

“You left me!” You yelled, your voice cracking at the edges.

“Because I had no choice! They gave me no choice.”

Your stomach dropped. “W-what?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to regain his composure. “Fury, SHIELD, they threatened to send you overseas if I didn't. To some desolate base in Russia.”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. This couldn't be real. “Steve, that doesn't make sense—”

“You really think I would leave you like that? That I would just throw away what we had? I was trying—” his voice caught in his throat. “I thought I was protecting you. But they lied to me.”

You were shaking your head, backing away. You couldn’t take any more empty words, any more bullshit—

Steve rushed toward you, catching your face in his large hands before you could turn away. “Baby, listen to me,” he said, softening. “They wanted me out of the way so you would be more likely to do whatever they wanted. When we were together, we were working less, we were happier, we cared about something that wasn't SHIELD, and they couldn't stand it.”

“But Fury—”

“Is a manipulative fuck that took advantage of your broken heart.” You gasped at his language, usually reserved for sex or intense fighting. Steve lowered himself to his knees, his hands gripping the curve of your waist and shaking you. “I need you to believe me, honey. I'm begging you. I would never have done this if I knew the truth. I'm so sorry for hurting you, and I wish I could take it back. But I can't, all I can do is tell you the truth.”

“You didn't want to leave me?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course not.” He rested his forehead on your belly, drawing a shaky breath before looking up at you again, pleading with big, blue, watery eyes. “I-I love you. And I agreed because I was terrified to lose you completely but then I—I did anyways because I'm a fucking coward.”

You wiped a tear from his cheek with your thumb, the last of your trepidation falling away. “I love you too, Stevie,” you said, and he surged upwards, slamming his mouth to yours in a ruinous, bone-melting kiss.

He parted your lips with his tongue, possessing your mouth in a display of dominance you rarely saw from him. He licked along your teeth, groaning low in his throat as you dug your nails into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He tasted like black coffee and something sweet, like he'd hit the dessert table instead of the bar, and it made your heart flip.

God, you'd missed him.

Your lungs screamed for air, an affliction super soldiers didn't contend with, and you were forced to break the kiss to breathe.

“Cameras?” You panted, craning your head back as Steve planted wet, open-mouth kisses down your jugular.

“This is Fury's personal study. No cameras,” Steve mumbled against the peak of your shoulder, his hands all over you.

You scoffed. “Of course, because he can have priv—”

“Forget about him.” Steve captured your lips again, and you nipped at his lower lip for cutting you off. He backed you against the desk, breaking the kiss to toss you up onto it.

“Forgotten,” you replied, breathless as you looked into his eyes.

“I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet, have I?” He asked, leaning back a bit to take you in, your chest heaving against the deep plunge of your dress, lips kiss-stung and eyes bright.

You shook your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder with a smirk.

“I love this color on you,” he murmured, rubbing the hem of your dress between his thumb and index finger. And your makeup—”

“Steve.” You grabbed him by the lapel and tugged him closer, bringing his face down towards yours. A flare of arousal twinged between your legs, you loved when he let you manhandle him. “I know you're trying to be a gentleman and not fuck me without some proper flirting, but it's been months. I need you.”

Steve smiled, leaning forward to lay you back on the desk. “You don't need me, honey,” he hummed, kissing down your sternum while his hands moved your dress up your legs. He looked up at you when he settled between your thighs. “You've proven that you're a force all on your own. And that's okay, you don't have to need me, as long as you want me.”

You nibbled your lower lip, processing his words. He was right, you'd proven that you could live through heartbreak, that you didn't need him to carry on. And as much as it hurt, and as much as you missed him, there was something liberating in that knowledge.

“So, do you want me?” He asked, grazing his thumb over the gusset of your panties, maddeningly light.

“Yes, I want you,” you answered, threading your fingers through his blond hair and urging him forward.

He chuckled, smiling up at you, then pulled your panties to the side with his middle finger and flattened his tongue against your slit, licking a firm stripe up your pussy. Your head fell back onto the desk when he sucked your clit between his teeth, wasting no time in his pursuit of your pleasure.

Steve, for all his propriety and politeness, loved nothing more than feasting on your pussy. He was sloppy with it, rough and self-indulgent, as if making up for the decades he went without it. He often stayed until you were overstimulated and orgasmed-out, weakly trying to push his head from between your legs while he lapped up the mess you made for him.

“Missed you so damn much,” he mumbled against your pussy, eyes fluttering closed as he drove his tongue into your entrance.

“Missed you,” you whined, your hips bucking up into his mouth as he devoured you, lashing every one of your sweet spots with expert precision.

His hands tightened on your hips while he massaged your clit with his tongue, and even that fraction of his real strength was enough to leave a dull ache. The reminder of his true strength made your head spin, your mind empty. You may not need him, but there was something thrilling about being able let go while you were with him. Trusting that he would keep you safe and you could just be.

He licked one last stripe up your pussy before pulling back, kissing his way up your body. “Baby, I need you,” he mumbled, nosing into your neck. You could feel just how badly from the ridge beneath his trousers, his hips rocking slightly into yours. “Please, can I fuck you?” He asked, unlatching his belt with a flick of his wrist, and a shiver rolled up your spine at the desperation in his voice.

“You want to fuck me?” You repeated, toying with him. You reached between your bodies and pulled out his cock, thick and long and flushed, and pumped it once, twice, smearing precum down his shaft.

He moaned, hot and breathy against your skin. “I know I hurt you, and I still have to make up for that, but I just—fuck, I need to feel you. Please, please let me make you come on my cock.”

“Just start slow,” you cooed, petting his cheek when he lifted his head in excitement. “Been awhile since I took you.” You glided his cockhead through your folds, his breath hitching when you notched it at your drooling entrance.

Gently, he eased his hips forward, sliding in one inch, then another. "Shit, honey. Have a little mercy," he panted, his muscles bulging against the fabric of his shirt, tendons in his neck flexing.

You groaned, releasing his cock to grab hold of his shoulders, nails biting into his shirt at the stretch, bright and burning.

“Gotta relax, baby. Let me in.” He gently guided you thigh up and around his waist, squeezing the fat of your haunch in reassurance. He moved a little deeper, and you both gasped when your walls clenched around him. “So goddamn tight,” he rasped, drawing his hips back a bit, assuaging some of the discomfort before easing back inside, coaxing your muscles to loosen for him.

“Fuck, Steve,” you panted when he pushed a little deeper, your eyes rolling back in your head when he grazed your g-spot.

“Almost there, doll. You can do it,” he encouraged, reaching up to hold your face. He caught your gaze, smiling a little when your eyes struggled to stay focused, lashes fluttering. “Starting to feel good?”

You nodded, pleasure spilling through you as your body accepted him inch by inch, until finally, you felt his pelvis press against yours.

“There we go,” he purred, leaning down to kiss your forehead, your cheek, giving you a few more seconds to adjust. “Good girl, takin’ all that cock.”

He ground into you, stifling a fractured moan against your shoulder when your pussy made an obscene squelching sound, dripping wet for him. You were on another planet, tingling head to toe as waves of pleasure crested. Every beat of your heart had you clenching around him, full to splitting, and you wanted more.

“Please, baby, need more,” you whined, trying to rock your hips against his, but he was too heavy for you to do much.

He braced his hands on either side of your head, sweeping his eyes down your body as you squirmed beneath him. He chuckled, the sound low and almost malicious. “Need more?"

He drew his hips back and delivered a punishing thrust, two, three, five, until you were all but screaming, unable to do anything but lay there and take everything he gave you.

"How's that for more?" He asked, his cock brutalizing your cervix and stretching you beyond your limits, molding your pussy to the shape of his cock. Ruining you with a fervor that made your head spin.

Your peak was rapidly approaching, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust until you were half-mad with desperation, clawing at his forearms by your head and leaving pink, raised lines across his flesh.

“Gonna come for me, baby? God, I missed this little pussy—feels so good,” he grated, bringing one of his hands down to circle to your clit, firm and deliberate. Exactly what he knew you needed. “That's my good girl. C'mon, I’m right there with you—” Another thrust and he sent you both flying over the edge, sparks exploding behind your eyes as the orgasm ravaged your body, flaying you open.

You grabbed onto his arm, desperate for something to ground you as you soared, his hips still thrusting erratically as he pumped you full of his release.

Crack!

The desk suddenly tilted beneath you and Steve whisked you up into his arms, still buried inside you. You clung to him in shock as the desk collapsed to floor, sending all of Fury's belongings scattered across the carpet.

"Are you alright?" He asked, searching your face.

You nodded, easing your grip on him.

Steve adjusted you, lifting and lowering you onto his cock, and you gasped, still sensitive from the lingering orgasm, and mildly shocked by his lack of reaction to what you'd just done.

“Steve, we—”

“We did,” he hummed, kissing along your neck as he caught his breath, lazily working you over his length to wallow in the last dregs of pleasure. “And if he has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

“I think he's going to have a problem,” you snickered, and Steve smiled.

“And I'll deal with it.” He eased himself out of you and set you on your feet, straightening your panties and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You felt like you were floating in a dream, in disbelief that you had your Steve back, that he never really was gone in the first place.

“How are you going to deal with it?” You asked after righting your dress and he had tucked himself back into his trousers.

Steve pulled you back into his arms, like even that moment of separation was more than he could bear. “Depends on how much of a problem he has,” he replied, smirking. “I told you, forget about him. I'll handle it for us.”

Us. Your knees went a little weak at the word. “Yes, Captain,” you replied rising on your toes to kiss his cheek.

Thank you so much for reading!

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. My inbox is open for requests, check my pinned post for fandoms & characters!

[liketolaugh-writes]

I know I focus a lot on Danny's complicated relationship with his parents, but there's really not enough on how messy his relationship with his friends can be.

Because in some ways, they are the best friends. They're amazing. There is no amount of crazy, no amount of terrifying, no amount of danger that can make them abandon him. They are ride or die to the end.

But they are also such teenagers.

And that's fine! They're allowed to be! It doesn't make them bad people or even bad friends. But God, these two are Danny's only support system, and emotionally speaking, they can be... kind of unreliable.

Because both of them? Are constantly trampling on Danny's feelings. Which Danny has a lot of, all the time, because his life is awful, and Sam and Tucker... don't really seem to respect that. (Again, perfectly understandable! They're teenagers and they've become used to this as their new normal.)

Every time Danny breaks down from the stress (WHICH HAPPENS A LOT) Sam and Tucker bitch about it, and his behavior, and how rude he's being. Whenever he's in a bad mood, he's a buzzkill, he's belligerent. When he's doing something just for himself, he's abandoning them, he's irresponsible. A lot of times, during intensely traumatic events, they openly blame him for what's happening.

(In fact, Sam and Tucker are a big part of why I hold 'struggles to assert himself' as a cornerstone of Danny's character.)

And they're kids, it's not their job to be Danny's therapists or his emotional sponge, and they should absolutely not be his sole source of support... but it's also so, so bad for him. Have I mentioned that Danny's life is a nightmare of abuse conditioning? Because it is.

And this is of course not the only or even the most important aspect of their friendship! But it's such a recurring theme (both with them and in Danny's life in general) that I'd love to address it at some point.

[empathicliar]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀what you deserve ¸.•* eren yeager.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

𝟔𝐤. 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 , 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝.

༺❀༻ || 𝐬𝟒!eren , 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫!eren , 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲-𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤!eren , college ua , for my caramel babies , eager!eren , she / her pronouns , overstimulation , sweet talker , lots of kisses , multiple orgasm's , strangers to lova's , plot based , no protection , creampie >~< , dirty talk , use of 'baby'.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

" when you put a lil' umph in it, that's when i lose control. "

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

there's only so much you can handle in a day's worth before overstimulation kicks in. rocking in a chair for four hours while getting a new row of ginger bundles sewed in by your auntie is already enough. gossiping about how your uncle is a piece of work can get added to that list too.

the white juicy couture track suit you have on is hugging your curves tighter than normal. you have ymir's 'friend' historia to thank for that. you'd only spoken to her once about how loose your tracksuits were and how badly you wanted them tighter and she got to work, completely redoing the threading to boost your ego a little to much.

eager with your hair to be done, you'd already marked a couple of other errands off the list. your fingers nails are coded with medium length cut-out shaped nails. a white base with some carnation pink painted bows. not wanting it to be to basic, you got some pink and white zebra stripes on your middle and pinky fingers.

your white painted toe-nails are covered by the ugg's you had to throw on due to the weather. you were always saying you hated summer until it wasn't around anymore and the cold had you shivering in the warmest of places.

its something about looking, feeling and smelling good that has you obsessed with yourself all over again. the vanilla scent is leaking off every surface of your body, the oil drops in your purse coming in clutch every time you wanted a refresher.

it's about four pm when your hair appointment is done. its something simple you could always deal with. 18 , 22 , 24 inch hair reaching your plush ass, your back already itching from the prickling nest.

" thank you s'much auntie! " you're exclaiming in her ear, already squeezing her to death with a hug.

you're not even close to being done. this winter break is going to be different. you naively figured you could get everything you wanted done while in college, yet when you finally touched the grounds it's like your shoulders slumped further down into a unforgivable pattern.

you stopped taking care of yourself mentally. you never stopped being a pretty bitch, nothing stops that. you got all the main things done. your hair was always styled, you don't play that. you're always soft and buttery smooth. the pet peeve for any hair on your body making you cringe.

you were always smelling good, it just became apparent you weren't going out of your way to take enough time for everything. by the time five rolls around, your sitting on your phone outside of your homegirl's house, waiting for her to get home.

mirrors by jhene aiko is playing softly in the back, your tinted windows are up and the bag of chick-fil-a nuggies are half eaten to your right. being your passy princess until further notice.

it doesn't take long for nicki to get to her place. she has big shopping bags in her hands, big balling on one of these cold ass afternoons. " you have a key to my house, you could've went in. " nicki reminds you, it slipped your mind completely. you glance at the hello kitty charm that hung in-front of your key fob, your dorm room key and her house key.

the long, black table you'd laid on more time's than your own bed has a ring light above it. a strollie with different lash things you'd never taken a hobby to is on the right side of it and the actually bundle set you asked for sits beside a bottle of water. eating the rest of your nuggets while nicki took a few bites of her salad, you both talked for God knows how long.

it's been a while since you've been in this cozy place. the apartment is on the first floor and in a gated community. you were so proud of nicki, she kept her word on making it big in life.

" you still going to ymir's tonight? " she asking while scratching the top layer of your lashes. wrong decision. it's like talking through an intense orgasm. your grabbing her hand to stop her to reply. she's only laughing at you the whole time.

" y-yeah girl i am. " your muttering out, your own laugh pouncing off the walls. nicki is a pro when it comes to getting you up and out of her chair satisfied. she snaps a video of the lashes and your making a fake brave face the whole time trying not to chuckle from the silence.

your in your car again by seven o'clock. playing with your hair in your review mirror, tucking the strands behind your ear and letting the multiple fans in your car fully dry your lashes. the song is back to playing at it's last pause while you move your lid's up in a uncomfortable position and let the air hit the base of your water lines.

you've driven to ymir's place so many times from nicki's house, you've gotten familiar with every back road, speed bump and pothole. the potholes brings back a awful memory of damage you wanted no part of remembering.

the weekend commute of straight peace was in motion. you got to ymir's house later than usually and took a joyful stride to your favorite love seat. the comfort makes you stifle a moan. you've done to much today to not get a break.

a song from ymir's recycled playlist is playing, it might be from sza's new album but you aren't to entirely sure. the only thing on your mind is food and weed. in the middle of the table there's snacks. cheddar popcorn, cherry bite twizzlers, some sour gummies and gushers. you opted on the popcorn and two packs of gushers.

on the back, light tan wall is a flat screen tv that's curved more towards you than it is connie and you finally correct your suspicions when you notice the name of the song and artist. i knew it, your thinking out with bunched up arms.

its seems like its been to long since you've been here and genuinely had time to stay.

since college had started in february, you branched out quickly when it came to friend groups. it wasn't a challenge when said friends had been around since high school. ymir, the brown haired girl with freckles and the nicest jaw line known to man offered you weed for exchanged of a pencil in junior year and connie, a surly boy with short, almost balding grey hair and a sleeve tattoo his mother didn't approve of just so happened to be next to you pouting from your win.

only a month into knowing them both, you were already coming to ymir's house and smoking like no tomorrow. connie tagging along some of the days, but he was mostly with his own group at the time. after high school, you figured this was going to be the time you all parted, saying ' i'll see you tomorrow bitch!' and never actually seeing them.

you were more than wrong when you realized you all had been planning to go the same paths.

those year's led up to these moments. now, every weekend ymir would host these little... parties or when it was strictly chill vibes and no one had the time or the energy to run around with don julio in each hand. she would host a small kickback. only inner friends only.

that consistent of you, ymir, connie's dumb ass, a girl named sasha, who connie knew in pre-school, sasha's close friend jean or john. you'd forgotten a little to quickly for your liking. they'd been coming around for months and last and least, jean's friend eren yeager.

eren's... alright. you don't have anything bad to say about the boy. he's always sweet enough to you but it seems like every time you want to engage in a conversation, its over shadowed by whatever else someone is saying. at the end of the day he's still a stranger you hadn't taken the full time to get to know. it's funny how many times you'd shared a blunt with him, lip's colliding yet never learned a single thing about him.

he has a attracting spirit. the kind you found hot to an extent. he's the type to wear strong fragrances to turn heads and its exactly what he does. that skunky scent of lavish soap and expensive cologne he seemed to never leave the house without was a dead give away he was in the area. he's always adorn in sweat pants and baggy shirt's that don't do him any justice.

you could tell he takes pride in his look, well he somewhat did at least. he always has this self-approving look on his face. his fingers are always decorated with silver rings that go well with the skeleton bone tattoo that paints from his left veiny hand to his shoulder.

it makes it hard not to look his direction when he makes such a grand entrance. he's a real eye catcher, a pretty boy you knew shouldn't be anywhere in your area. you don't do good with flirty looks and bed room eyes. they could lead you to a spare bedroom any fucking time.

" |⋆|, ghost face or michael myers? " ymir asks, breaking you out of your mini tundra.

" probably ghost face, he's so fuckable. " connie rolls his eyes, taking a big hit from the blunt he'd been preparing for minutes. the bud is covered in ashes' by the time he pulls away, heaps of smoke coming from his side of the room.

sasha, who got the second best seat in the house sat a few feet away from you. she giggles. " real recognizes real. " you nodded with a smirk and clapped her hand, the noise echo's in the spacious living room.

" you nigga's are just freaky, that's all it is. " you almost let a 'shut up connie.' fall from your lips but the front door opens. in walks the person who was always late. eren. he has his hands in these loose, black sweat-pant pockets, you don't have to see those daring fingers to know he has them covered with hard looking rings. the grey t'shirt he's wearing has a design on the front you cant really decipher.

" what's up yeager. " eren tilts his head up for a greeting and makes his way to connie. his plush lips twist into a confident simper as he daps the two guys up.

eren's speaking again, taking a glance at the table with half of the snacks missing and only two rolls left. " y'all couldnt wait on me? "

" you take forever. " you say, bringing a dark blanket to your chest. " so what? " eren replies with smugness, his green eyes peering at yours with pure coy. you only return it with your infamous eyeroll to kill his dreams.

'i hate a nigga that knows he's good looking. '

" you live the closest. " stating the obvious, eren plops down in the seat in between connie and jean, folding his arms over the back, man-spreading his clothed legs to get some more room. its like he knows you want to look at his every move. he's too damn fine for his own good.

it isn't long before he's changing his seating position and he's reaching at that brown wooden table for a pack of rolls and the weed grinder. he opens the black container – seeing connie left him enough for one blunt. he's taking his win quickly.

finger's making quick toil on folding the creases in, tongue slipping out to seal it. you're face is fuming when he brings the lighter to the end of the blunt and the light reflects on his face. he's so focused on the misty smoke and not wasting the little he has, he doesn't notice the gushing look he's getting from the woman across the room.

'did it just get hotter in here or something?' you take a glance to the thermostat next to the goldish rimmed painting hanging above your head. sixty-seven degrees and no showing of anything getting hotter anytime soon. you chew on your lip. its probably that thick ass blunt ymir made you. it has to be kicking in or something.

speaking of the freckle faced stoner, she walks back into the room, you hadn't even noticed she'd gotten up. she's empty handed, using one of her hands to swipe a strand of hair out of her face. " bro, can we start the movie? i'm tryna' hang out with historia later. "

sasha ooo's like a school girl, wiggling her pale, small fingers teasingly at ymir. " you're always with historiaaa~. " sasha has this silly smirk on her face and the brown skinned girl groans from it, flipping her middle finger in her direction.

usually it takes a while to pick a movie. by this time the weed is hitting all of them and blurring the limit for time. they would often scroll through the same list on netflix and not even realize it.

this time is a little different, ymir is in a real rush to get to this 'friend' of hers. she has the tiny roku remote in her fingers as she continuously flicker through the movies. she ultimately stops on a scary movie and clicks the screen. she sends a look around the room for any concerns then actually plays the movie.

before the credits have even started the pop of a chip bag is already sounding around the room and cheesy flavoring is flooding your senses. sasha's wincing with a pouty smile, not realizing how alerting the noise was.

the first scene is a white girl manually popping corn. the volume is low but the surround sound speakers ymir got installed almost a year ago make it seem much louder. it isn't long before that same girl is killed in front of a big front yard.

by the time the movie ends, everyone is pretty much out of it. heads leaning on arm rest's. the lighters have stopped clicking and the smell of weed isn't prominent as it used to be. you'd grown used to that cozy smell. the foggy room is actually clear for the first time in years.

wiping your eyes like a kid, then realizing you had on lashes. you curse underneath your breath. looking around the quiet room, sasha and jean are sleeping soundly. connie was sleep twenty minutes into the movie. you could hear his loud ass snores. ymir isn't even in the room anymore. the second the movie ended she was gone out the front door but not without giving you a loused side hug.

you figured you were the only one functioning correctly and tossed the blanket to the side. the cold sends chill's down your arms but you don't mind it. it feels sort of good. your painted feet hit the tiled floor with a small 'plap' sound and you glance around the room to make sure it hadn't woke anyone up.

" where you going' ? " jumping, the fabric of your white, zip up jacket is grasped. instead of consoling your fear, the mad-man laughs.

" stop laughing bro, i almost had a heart attack. " you pause, taking a breath. " thought yo ass was sleep. " you explain further, standing up fully and getting a good, well hazy look at eren. his phone light is on dim and he's barely bringing it up high enough to make it known he's awake.

both of his shoulders are pretty much in use by the two boys he's squished in between. instead of looking uncomfortable, it looks like he found slight comfort in them being next to him. it's leaving a smile on your face instead of a panicked frown.

he hum's, dropping the dark phone in his lap. " still didn't answer my question. " you tilt your head, thinking back to said question.

when it finally hits your scuzzy mind, you're letting out a soft 'oh!' " no where, well i don't know. i just want some fresh air. " you're falsely admitting, stretching your body to release any tension.

did you really need some fresh air or were the stirs from connie and jean making it known they could wake up and once again take away the little time you had to get to know eren? it's probably the bud thinking for you at this point.

" you can come with me. " turning on your heels, you almost miss the several groans from jean and connie from being pushed aside. " you that eager nigga? " questioning with the slightest amount of tease, he's right behind you in a heart beat.

" nah. " turning back to look at him, he's already looking at your back side with a smirk. his own limbs being stretched out. he slips on his slides and you didn't feel like putting on your boots, so you opted on stealing ymir's flip-flops she kept by the door.

you didn't really plan this far out. it has to be around eleven or so, your to high to drive home, you actually didn't need any air and you can already tell its cold as hell outside. it was just the perfect excuse to get out of that room and into a more private one with eren, no one was going to interrupt your mission.

men are so easy, your practically nodding to yourself. ymir's back door is opened and closed within seconds, the back porch is nicely clean except for a few leaves and dirt that you didn't really care about right now, you swiped some dirt off the second step and shuffled to the left to give him some room.

eren is sitting down on the first step soon after, without the hassle of wiping anything down. now, its quiet and cold, and there's really nothing to say or do when the wind is speaking.

" how long you been in shiganshina? " he asks after long periods of silence.

" my whole life. " your replying, low eyes blurry with the upcoming mist from the weather. " and you? "

" born and raised. " then its quiet again. your messing with your acrylic's , only looking up when a tree bristles loud enough to sound like it might fall.

" those are really pretty. " quirking your head up, it seemed like you're staring into a bottomless pit of beauty. eren's not even paying attention to anything but you and the way your skin is still so moist in such cold air.

its little details on his face you thought you'd already noticed before that have you feining. you squint your eyes. his nose is pierced on the right side. the actually dot isn't a dot like yours. its a silver star that's small but glance worthy when anyone see's it.

his hair looks so healthy, not only in the sun but also in the moonlight. you're kind of jealous of that. even in its normal state in that low back bun, you can tell he isn't using men's one-hundred in one. the wind casts a breeze in your direction, that's giving you another reminder. the soft smell of lemon and something sweet like pineapple's is hitting your nose. such different smells that go rewardingly well on him.

" gimme' your hand. " your obeying it without question, he chuckles at the haste and you dare to drag your hand away. " i'm playing pretty, i just want to see. "

" why? " asking nicely and still letting him slither those slender, tattooed fingers over your bedazzled nails, he's humming again and not answering your question now.

" hello? " rubbing his thumb over your knuckle gently, the calluses of his own has you quietly swallowing. he perks your hand up finally and actually looks at the nails now. " my bad, my mom does nails. " you frown, still not understanding what that has to do with him looking at your hands like a meal.

giving him a better show, you half curl your hand and lay it side ways in his own. your palms touching and forming heat you didn't know you needed to entirely bad. " so? " you mutter, not returning the eye contact you know he has on you.

" nothing, she could just do better than this. " he flaunting out, stretching those delicate fingers ever so slightly. you don't even realize he brings both of your hands down and resting them on his rough lap, you're to focused on the cute little gesture's he's making.

" you letting me meet your mommy already? " it was cute how he wanted to get his mom some new clients, he must be a momma's boy. eren's nodding instead of laughing though, replying with simplicity. " yeah. "

" what's up with you bro. " you chuckle. " i don't even know your birthday and your trying to let me meet your mom's- "

" march thirtieth. " cutting you off, you almost forgot you had even said anything about a birthday. your brain is realtering itself to remember that date when this high is over.

eren's not ashamed to look at the prize he wants. he's been plotting for fucking months and nothing is going to break him out of this. his low, emerald eyes are falling down the pattern of your silver zipper, falling into your lap. undressing those lacey panties he just knows you have on under those pants.

it has you shying away, wanting to turn around in your respectful seat. that's when it hits you. that grip on your hand wasn't from your other one. it's from his, unmoving and finally locking into those intimidatingly attractive eyes, your glancing at those wet lips he managed to always keep looking mushy.

you know they are the softest lips you'd ever feel. like pillows sent from heaven. you grip his hand, no longer just wanting to feel his sweaty palm, but those fingers- his fore arms, his strong shoulders. everywhere he'd allow you.

" eren... " encaging his fingers into a tight hold, he takes a quick look at his thigh. he isn't able to hide the side smile that's forming. you don't even know why you're calling his name, you just wanted him to say something with that slutty voice of his. – just acknowledge you in every way possible.

" yeah? " your beady eyes are watering from the constant pressure of wind and its becoming so fucking obvious you both don't want to be in the cold anymore.

" what are you trying to do? "

" you want me to be honest baby? " baby... that word has you dripping, squeezing your thighs together to take away that ache in your cunt. you nod. you can't find those confident words anywhere in sight. its hard to say men are easy when you're soaking just from being close to him.

" i wanna take you to a room and make you feel real good. " his head is cocking to the left and those eyes he kept on you are dropping lower. his hand twitches in your grasp and it doesn't take much to know he's putting you in eight different positions in his head.

" we don't even have to fuck, i just want to eat your pussy. "

your mouth lathers with saliva, and your standing up to entirely quick. eren is laughing behind you and your so horny you don't even tell him off. you don't care about the three people on the couch sleeping good. you want to take this pretty boy up on his offer.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⚔︎

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

folded up, knees to your chest. the air is hitting your warm pussy. your panting from the littlest touches to your body. plush form being demolished by the stronger man keeping you still. eren has his hands in the bottom creases of your knees, applying pressure that only gives you minimal lay away to move around.

your pussy is leaking on the sheets, all type's of fluid leaving a stain you didn't care for. he's mouthing on your cunt, his spit coating your pussy in a new layer of slick. eren kept his word. he didn't need to fuck you to feel good. he made that known when he took a long lick from your entrance to the top of your cunt in a slow strobe, whimpering hard.

" stop squirming baby. " he's muttering into your pussy, kissing your puffy clit. face full of your cum and arousal. he's so deep in between those legs he can barely breathe. his stubbled chin constantly coming in contact with your needy, waiting entrance.

you cant keep your hands from gripping at any and everything. your holding onto the spare room pillow, covering your face and mouth to keep the others from hearing the total mess you're steady becoming.

" nah, move that. " you don't listen, your voice pouty and muffled in the pillow. eren doesn't have time to play games with you, he's been doing that for months. he snatches the pillow away himself and throws it at the wall.

" i wanna hear you. fuck them. " your spasming on his tongue again before you can speak. weeps of moans falling on deaths door from the amount of pleasure happening on your pretty pussy. your hiccupping from the lack of air entering your lungs, to caught up on the way eren is twisting his tongue over your sensitive clit.

eren's been licking, flicking and sucking on your clit for almost a hour. he just can't get enough of you. you taste so sweet and tarty, its like a fucking desert he can only indulge in. anything your body is willingly to push out for him to taste he's sucking it up.

fucking his tongue in and out of your tight hole, eyes open the entire time to watch you come undone. your hair is sticking to your face, the ginger bringing the caramel out of your skin and aiding your beauty. he didn't think you could get any more sexier.

" fuck baby, " smacking your inner thigh, he gets a breather before he actually dies in the best way possible. " pussy to damn dangerous. " he's huffing and hitting those soft, thick thighs, wanting nothing more than to leave his marks on your skin.

your cute little face scrunches and yelps fill the room, his mouth falling back on those fat lips to get another sample, tasting that sweet juicy fruit. his jaw is hurting and damn near begging for it to end but he doesn't give a fuck. he wants to make you feel good, too good.

your to much of a pretty girl to not have someone in between these legs every day. " 'ren! " eren speeds up, ignoring those pleas. " 'ren, baby please. " you're begging, the knot in your stomach forming from the endless pleasure. you don't know if your begging because its too much or he's to damn good at this and you need to repay him somehow.

– between the base of your thighs being smacked and the vibration of eren moaning, a shock ascends throughout your body. cumming for the third time that night. stars are forming in the far corners of your eyes. it feels like eren has full control of your body. he's keeping you still with only two arms and smirking from how fucked out you already look.

your body is still twitching and it takes a army and every working limb you have to pull him off of you by his hair. he's raspy and to happy for someone who could've died from being to pussy drunk. your chest is heavy and it feels like you can finally inhale properly.

" my bad. " sheepishly apologizing, he plants a soft kiss to your abused clit and toothily smiles when you give him a death stare. gently bringing your knees from your squished chest down, he's kissing your sore knee-caps, wetly sucking on the frontal part of your thighs.

somethings bothering you heavily and its making your chest warm unnaturally seeing him care about every aspect of your body. " why are you taking care of me? "

" whatchu' talking about? "

" this. " you lazily point at his hands that sting a way into your pores. " you kissing on me like you love me and shit. "

" wouldn't go that far. " your rolling your red eyes again and dragging a hand down to your tummy, letting it rest for the time being. " this is mandatory though. you just fuck with the wrong boys. " you want to take it as a stray but actually process it. have you really been messing with guy's who didn't think to care for your body?

it has you recurring every misaligning person you let into your safe space and have a way with your figure. " hey, don't think about it " eren snaps in your face. " that's why i'm here, ima take care of you baby. promise. "

biting your lip, your pushing everything away because he asked you too and something about that foreign feeling doesn't feel to damn bad. you don't have it in you to talk or ask him for anything else, but you spread those legs of yours and beckon him to come here. how can he ever say no to you.

he's shuffling in-between you, applying his hand on one of the pillows next to your head. you stare into his alluring eyes, raking your hand from your own stomach to his. he's gulping, his adam's apple plumping with nerves.

" you wanna fuck me yeager? " he feels like a virgin when you speak like that. anxious and scared to disappoint, he's nodding, bring his head down to plant a soft kiss to your plump lips. just like you thought, they're so pulpy and flush. he kisses like butter, like a piece of bubble gum that's so slinky you almost want to swallow it.

the kiss is deepening with the mood, the fist in his hair is keeping him from cumming in his pants. he almost doesn't want to pull away but he can feel her dripping under him and there's only so much his dick can take before it's begging to be buried inside that soft cushion.

he's making quick work with his clothes. sitting on the balls of his feet, he's tugging his shirt over his head. the sight of his toned chest has you gawking. it's a good thing he only wore comfy clothing, you would've pounced on him the moment he walked into this house.

" take your time... " you joke, casting your surly eyes to the space below your plush tummy. tapping your nails on your stomach. he's already groaning from the sight. you didn't think he could get any faster, he's slipping out of pants and those tight boxers in second.

to say you were disappointed never crossed your mind. you're actually fucking nervous. he's thick, with a healthy pink tip and some inches that make you squeeze your stomach in.

" don't go getting scared on me pretty. " stroking his length, he's bringing your left leg up, kissing the base of your ankle sloppily. his dick is leaking with pre-cum, slouching his tip on your clit. you both let out a soft gasp.

the feeling is euphonic, sensitive clit being brought back to life with one little swipe. your grinding lightly on his tip and he's hissing from how wet she is. " yeah baby, mhmm... you know how to do it. " he praises, his teeth biting into his cheek.

" put it in 'ren. " lifting your hips, you get so close to pushing his dick in and he aids it, his brows knitting, mouth falling open when he aligns it right, sliding into your entrance with ease.

the moan's fall off the wall. he's stretching you so well. the pain almost feels too good. your mouth shaped into a 'o and your hands are fumbling for something new to grab. eren has his head draped down to watch him slip inside of that pussy that cant help but suck him in.

he's whimpering when you clench- moaning when you're folding your legs around him to push in deeper. it's like he can cum from this alone. you just hugging him in has him gapping.

" pussy to fuckin' wet, fuckkk. " he's groaning out in between deep thrusts, pace picking up fast as fuck for someone on the verge of tapping out. your body is following his orders, back arched with intent to make him feel good. eyes rolling from the captivity of his being.

its almost to much when he pushes in to deep, hips runting into your poor cunt like she hadn't been through enough. his tip is ramming into that gushy spot inside of you that has your brain shuttering to working. your mewling loud -- unable to form a single coherent word.

legs pulled tight to hold him in, cunt tightening on his dick making his steady thrust sloppy for mere seconds before he's back to putting in work. dainty fingers coming to rest on his v-line, not pushing but not letting him reach that spot that makes you go fucking crazy. he's silent with how bothered he is about that hand, he knows you're still sensitive and recovering from those heavenly orgasms, but he's to entuned to stop when he knows it'll make you feel so, so good.

" move it. " he's stating with attitude, you refuse to and he only slows down. you whine from the loss. your moaning his name pathetically, lifting your own hips to get that feeling back before its gone. he holds your supple hips down, leaning down to kiss and fondle with your brown nipples.

" e'ren, come on! "

" you gonna keep that fuckin' hand down? " you nod, panting, surprised you were even able to speak in the first place. he's returned that pace little by little, watching your fingers retreat to one of the blue pillows behind your back, eyes closed.

head hanging low, hair coming out of that bun from all the tugging, he almost looks like a greek status above you- one hand on your tummy, squishing it down to feel the cave his dick is making, the other bringing your left leg back to his lips, folding you – he's to caught up in how response you are to his touches.

propping your ankle on his shoulder, leaning down to look you dead in your watery eyes. you cant shy away from nothing now. he's thrusting in deep, pussy gushing all over the sheets and his length. eye's faltering when it comes to keeping that contact.

" i'm so close baby. " he's warning you and your nodding to agree with him, your arms lifting to his neck, dragging him down for a kiss. tongue lacing with his like second nature – eyes shut when that knot in your guts is on the verge of breaking and broken cries are falling in between the kiss.

" gonna cum in you baby, you don't mind that d-do you? " to head-struck, your nodding like a idiot in heat. that gives eren a new goal, he's stroking in like a wild animal, biting his lip so hard it bleeds when you squeeze him.

trying your hardest to keep your moans in, eren pushes in one last time and hits that blurry spot that renders you brain dead. your moaning, clawing on his v'line with that new set to keep him from moving. cunt completely spent and aching again when eren is painting your walls white.

the warm feeling only making it worse, now he cant move or you might regret it. eren's heaving, one hand on the headrest to puff out and rush in the smell of sex, vanilla and shea butter.

" fuckkk i gotta' get you a plan b asap. "

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

©𝙀𝙈𝙋𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙍 any sort of stealing or modifying is prohibited, mess with your momma not me.

[ohwell-itsme]

#what if we got bored and dissected human sexuality together

what frustrated me for a good long while before I just... shelved it I guess, because it's not going to get me anywhere is that

once you get past the point of like, trans people are normal and it's transphobia when you exclude them from your attraction on that basis alone, and it's normal and doesn't change your sexuality to love them with whatever genitalia they have the cliff of what you can define as gender based attraction soon ends when you reach "non-binary people exist"

there is nothing, NOTHING, in my appearance that indicates my gender identity, it's simply not one of those that look like anything, but we form our first impressions of people before they speak (supposedly most people just need a one good look, idk to me people are shifty strangers until I can have somewhat of a grasp on their personality and worldview, but turns out that's abnormal and highly paranoid, and like, I'm aroace), somehow the ever popular smash or pass quizzes are easy enough to vote on with just one picture of the person, the eyes just don't careeeee about the nuance of gender,

and preferences for either the feminine or masculine aesthetic no matter how pronounced mean jackshit too, because those are super fluid and constantly reshaped by culture and there's probably more people with gender non-conforming presentations than there is with green eyes, it's literally nonsense, it's case by case in reality and labels sometimes just get in the way, because again it's distressing for non-binary people to parse through who might even be attracted to me? Am I going to be alright getting with a person of that orientation, or would it feel dysphoric, bringing awareness to this side of me, feeling perceived as leaning more to this side? Are my options only mspecs, only other enbies who'll understand? Like the profiling, narrowing the scope of who you might have chances with, based on labels becomes USELESS once you're non-binary, they're not telling you shit!

All of it is stupid, like, fuck your binary, it doesn't even exist, no such a thing in biology. Fuck all the who can say what discourse and the biggest victim contests and the community tearing fucks who don't want to see how similar all of our experiences with misogyny are and conflate our labels with the experiences they think we do have, fuck all the erasure and just all of this bullshit

I'm going to make a huge beam and turn everyone consciously non-binary [the binary is already fake] and then I'll die and when I see god I'm gonna spit in his face, fuck off with all that.

so strange to me that some people aren't bisexual

[jjscrybaby]

first dates <3

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (friends to lovers, just pure adorableness tbh, sexual jokes, kissing, smoking weed.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“So, what does a date with JJ Maybank look like?” Your arm was linked through his, the two of you walking down the beach; the gentle breeze had goosebumps spreading over your bare skin. Sue you for wanting to look nice.

About 97% of the days you’d spent with JJ were in a bikini, pyjamas or just some old denim shorts and a crop top. You never tried to look nice for him, because you didn’t have to. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he was your friend. Ever since Sarah had started dating John B your circles had merged and the two of you had become particularly attached at the hip. Maybe you should have realised sooner you had feelings for him, but the line between friendship and romance is difficult to differentiate sometimes.

Surprisingly, you weren’t confused when he asked you out. It felt normal, felt right. You’d given him a sweet smile, kissed his cheek and told him to pick you up at seven.

“I can’t say I’ve been on many,” he admitted, shrugging his jacket off to put on you. “But, usually, I start with food.”

“You always do,” you tease, putting your arms through the hoodie with a grin. He linked his fingers through yours, throwing you a wink as he changed directions. You didn’t realise where you were headed until you were stood outside. “You want to have our first date at the Wreck? We eat here all the time.”

“You love the cheeseburgers,” he shrugged, holding the door open for you. The bell jingled above you, you looked back at him with a giddy smile.

Kiara, luckily, wasn’t working tonight so you didn’t have her eyeing the two of you like an overbearing mother. A waiter came over to your table and he ordered, knowing just what you wanted without you having to say a word. He’d decided to sit beside you instead of opposite, in a little booth in the back, you were pretty sure it was just so he could rest his hand on your thigh.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he complimented. You’d decided on a sundress, knowing he had a thing for them.

“You’ve told me several times,” you teased, tucking your hair behind your ears. “You look beautiful, too.”

“Aww, thanks,” he laughed, making you giggle.

First dates were usually awkward, you’d always need at least two glasses of wine to loosen up. You hadn’t even had a sip for this. You adored JJ, he already knew everything about you so there were no awkward conversations needed to be had. He’d held your hair back whilst you threw up in a bush after one too many tequila shots, so you couldn’t possibly embarrass yourself. You felt completely relaxed, it was the best you’d felt in a long time.

Your food and drinks arrived, his hand didn’t stray from your thigh the entire meal. He flirted with you nonstop, but you very quickly realised he’d been doing that since you met. The teasing comments, the unsubtle looks, it was nothing new; and yet you still blushed every time.

“What’s next?” You asked as the two of you left the restaurant, his wallet the only one feeling a little emptier.

“The nice meal wasn’t good enough for ya?” He joked, arm around your shoulders.

“It was exquisite, but I think you can do better,” you shrugged, reaching up to hold the hand he’d wrapped around you.

“We’ll see.”

The arcade was your favourite place on the island, not for the games, no, they were fun but they weren’t the reason you loved it so much. You went there purely to people watch. A variety of people came into the arcade, and you loved to make up fun stories about them. And, of course, JJ knew that.

“What ‘bout them?” The two of you were sat, sipping slushies and looking around the room. You’d played a few games, he let you win every time, and now it was time for the real fun.

“She’s pregnant but hasn’t told him yet, because it’s not his baby,” you replied. He gasped dramatically, making you snort into your cup.

“Who’s the daddy?” JJ asked, subtly pulling you closer to him so your back was leaning against his chest.

Your cheeks went pink, but you chose to ignore it and take another sip of your drink; even as he let out a chuckle. “That guy.” You pointed to an elderly man who was standing in the corner.

“Damn, he’s still got it,” JJ murmured. You giggled, turning to face him with an amused smile. Your faces were inches apart as he grinned back at you.

For a second, you thought he was going to kiss you; he cupped your cheek and gently stroked his thumb over your cheekbone, but just as you were about to lean in he brought his hand back, licked his thumb and then rubbed it over your top lip.

“Slushie juice,” he explained, licking his thumb before looking around the room again. “Ooo, what about her?”

You were on his back as you walked back across the beach, your feet were hurting because you decided to wear uncomfortable shoes that went with your dress and you’d refused to walk any further. He didn’t even flinch, just bent down in front of you and waited. He was carrying your shoes, babbling on about something John B had done.

“Where are we headed?” He asked, adjusting his hold on you. “The Chateau?”

“On the first date? Who do you take me for?” You smirked.

“Says the girl who slept with Brandon Gibbs after the first date. Am I not good enough for you?” He replied dramatically.

“Hey! You promised to never bring that up again,” you whined.

He laughed, suddenly stopping in his movements to drop you back down. Instead of giving you your shoes like you expected, he sat down on the sand and waited for you to join him. “There’s one part of a JJ Maybank date that we haven’t done yet.”

“On the beach? Dirty,” you smirked, sitting down next to him.

“Shuddup.” He pulled out a pre-rolled joint from his pocket, waving it in your face. “My speciality.”

“Did you grow it?”

“I’ve had enough of the smartass comments, baby.” You couldn’t come up with another one, not with the way the pet name left his lips. He’d called you baby plenty of times, but something about that moment just made it feel special.

You shared the joint, passing it back and forth as you talked softly to each other. By the time it was finished, you were sitting in his lap with your eyes half open and kisses being pressed to the side of your head.

“So, how’d I do?” JJ murmured, lips only inches away from your ear.

“10/10,” you replied, running your hand through his hair with a lazy smile. “Best date I’ve ever been on, hands down.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” he grinned. “You think I did good enough for a kiss?”

“Mhm, maybe,” you teased, turning your head so your lips brushed against his. He let out a shaky exhale, cupping your cheeks in his warm hands like he’d done earlier on; except this time, there was no juice.

His lips moved smoothly against yours, hands pulling you as close as humanly possible. His tongue licked over your bottom lip, causing a hum to leave yours.

“Do you want to go on a second date?” He murmured against your lips.

“And a third,” you grinned.

When you both finally pulled away, both your lips were puffy, your hair messy and cheeks flushed. Neither of you had ever looked happier.

“C’mon, you’re carrying me to the Chateau if you want that second date,” you stated, standing up.

“Am I gonna be the new Brandon Gibbs?”

“Not anymore, you’re not.”

[dear-aubade]

first of all I love your writing style 💔

second: can you make a drabble where Joel comforts reader during her cold or any kind of sickness, maybe even usual stomachache aand then they have soft cute gentle xex, and he whispers praises to her, soothing all of her aches, lyyy

- 🐿️

Awwe thank you for the kind words anon, I’m glad you like my work! Here you go!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You try to hide your sickness from Joel because you don’t want to stress him out. It doesn’t work.

Notes: Sick fic, praise kink, soft!dom!joel, sub!reader, sick!reader, reader is in her head a lot, unprotected p in v, reader is very much Joel’s baby, READER IS NOT PREGNANT SHE’S JUST NAUSEOUS

It was normal for you to be reserved. A little quieter than most, a little more soft. Joel knew you better than anybody, and he could tell when you’d slipped into your daydreams, just needing a few moments to drift off within your own head.

But this…this was different.

The day had started off as usual. You and Joel woke up together tangled in blankets, his strong arms holding you close. But the moment you blinked your bleary eyes awake you gave him a swift kiss and mumbled, “M’gonna go shower” before leaving him alone in bed.

Things only got stranger from there. That afternoon Joel was scheduled to leave for a short patrol with Tommy—lately there had been more Clicker sightings, so he and his brother had increased the amount of rotations needed per day. Joel didn’t want to leave you alone when he suspected something was wrong, but it was necessary for him to go if they wanted to keep Jackson a safe haven.

Normally when he was about to leave you’d get all teary-eyed and try to get as many kisses from him as you could before he took off. This time, however, you gave him a short smile and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

That sent Joel’s suspicion through the roof. He had studied your face, searching for any indication there might be something off. Your eyes were a little droopy, but he also knew that the night before you’d been up late with him reading to you…

“Is everything okay, baby?” he had asked softly.

Something flickered in your eyes and a little v appeared between your brow as it creased in confusion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a little worried about you.”

At that, you gave him an innocent smile. “I’m just tired, Joel. I’m okay.” You stood on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a soft peck. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Against his better judgement, he’d left. But that didn’t stop him from worrying about you all throughout patrol.

You felt absolutely awful.

In the morning you’d woken with quite possibly the worst stomach ache you’d ever experienced. You thought a shower might make you feel better, that your body was just disagreeing with something you’d eaten the day before.

It got worse. It seemed that anything you did made the nausea flare up. All you wanted to do was be Joel’s princess for the day, to whine until he took you in his arms and hushed your cries with sweet words and sweeter kisses.

But he had patrol that day, and you didn’t want him to worry. You weren’t supposed to make him worry, you were supposed to be his good girl. You didn’t want him distracted—you knew he’d been stressed about the increased Clicker sightings and you didn’t want to add more to the burden he was already carrying.

And so you stayed silent about it. You smiled at him and sent him on his way, and finally, finally when you were alone, you snuggled up back in bed.

You were freezing. Even with the thick blankets piled on top of you, you still were shivering, and your stomach ache stayed constant. Even your mind began to fuzz to the point where you didn’t know how long it had been since Joel left. You stopped caring about the need to pretend everything was fine—you just wanted him.

You weren’t in the living room when Joel got back. Normally you’d be there waiting since it was the closest comfy place to the door, so the moment you heard the door open you could run and embrace him in a flurry of kisses.

But you weren’t there.

“Baby?” he called out, shutting the door behind him.

No response.

He frowned and took his shoes off, then shed his thick snow jacket and gloves. Beneath he was just wearing dark-washed jeans and his signature flannel.

In your room, all Joel saw was a lump beneath the thick gray comforter. “Darlin’?” Joel crossed the room and knelt beside the bed. Were you asleep? Did—

“Joel?” Your voice was strained, small. You rolled over and Joel’s stomach sank. Your eyes were hazy, your cheeks slightly flushed. Had you been crying?

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

He cupped your cheek and your bottom lip quivered for a moment before you burst into tears.

“Oh, baby.” He promptly stood and got into bed with you, pulling you into his arms. You were so much smaller than him, so easy to pick up and hold against him. “I gotcha. Shh,” he soothed.

You cried quietly into his chest as you clung to him while he smoothed back your hair and pressed gentle kisses to your head. His words were soft murmurs.

“It’s okay darlin’, I’m here now. S’alright….deep breaths sweetheart, can you do that for me? Can you—oh, good girl. That’s it, just keep taking deep breaths for me…”

Eventually your sobs quieted, though a tear still fell down your cheek every now and then. After a few more minutes of holding you, Joel spoke again.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he prompted. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You sniffled. “Just….” Your brow creased. “Jus’ don’t feel good.”

Joel hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want you to worry.” Your bottom lip trembled. “I didn’t want—“

“Hey, don’t start again,” he cooed softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “You don’t ever have to think that ever again, you hear? I like worrying about you. You’re my baby, ‘s my job to take care of you.”

He saw your reaction to that—lips parting, brows relaxing, eyes going a little doe like.

“You like hearin’ me say that?” he murmured, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone, catching another stray tear. “Like that I take care of you?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide.

Joel kissed your forehead. “You need me to distract you a little bit baby? Make all the bad feelings go away for awhile?”

“Mhmm.” Your little voice was breathless.

Joel chuckled. “Alright honey. You just keep laying there n’ lookin’ pretty—don’t gotta do any of the work.”

Your head had been fuzzy before because of the sickness, but it was nothing compared to now. When Joel talked to you like this, held you like this…it made everything around him grow foggy.

He slid his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and his index finger started to tease your bud over your panties. You squirmed.

“Wigglin’ already baby? I haven’t even done anything yet.” You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice.

His fingers slid past your underwear to dip into your wetness. You whined and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, embarrassed at how slippery you were already.

Joel chuckled and held you tighter. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Nothing wrong with bein’ ready.”

You whimpered as his fingers circled the outside of your entrance. You shook your head at his teasing. “Want your cock,” you whined so sweetly in his ear. “I can take it, promise….just want you to make it all better.”

“Awe baby,” Joel crooned, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Okay. Just give me a sec…”

He shifted to pull down his pants and boxers and toss them to the side. He was already hard against your hip. Laying side-by-side, your chest to his, Joel slid his length past your folds.

Oh….you could have sworn you forgot about your aches and pains right in that moment. He made you feel so full. He was so big, so thick and warm….you could feel him all the way up in your tummy.

Joel let out a sigh that bordered on a groan. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. So good…”

He started to rock his hips gently and you whimpered, burying your face into his chest.

He chuckled. “So shy, baby. That’s okay, you just sit there…don’t gotta worry about a single thing.”

One of your legs hooked over his hip as his pace sped up and you clung to him the whole way through. You felt so…so…oh, you feel him dragging along your walls so nicely. You were absolute putty in his arms—Joel always made you feel that way, always gave you such big feelings it made you feel too small to hold them all.

“So good, baby,” he cooed. “Such a good girl, taking me so well…just lay there and let me fill you up—oh, you’re so tight around me princess…”

You could feel it then, that big feeling. The one that made you whimper and whine, trying to hide your face more than it already was. “Joel…”

“It’s okay, just let it happen.” His pelvis was rubbing against your bundle of nerves oh so nicely it made you dizzy. “Let me feel you finish on my cock, darlin’, you’re so good for me, so good…”

Every coo and murmur only brought you higher. You let out another high-pitched whine as the feeling started to become too much, too tight too hot too everything, oh you were right there, you…

You cried out as you reached your peak and then fell over the edge. Joel held you the whole way through as you clenched around him and he spilled inside of you, murmuring praises the whole time.

“Good girl, good girl….my pretty baby, you’re doing so well, taking my cock in that pretty pussy of yours….that’s it sweetheart…”

He rocked his hips gently to help bring you down from your high, slowly decreasing his pace until he came to an eventual stop.

He held you in his arms, your body against his. You hummed contentedly and nuzzled at his neck.

Joel smiled. “Feel better, sweet girl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He kissed your forehead. “Why don’t we get in the bath for a bit to clean up, and then I’ll make you some soup? Nothing that will be too harsh on your stomach.”

You blinked drowsily and nodded. “Mhmm. I’d like that.”

Yes, you’d like that very much indeed.

[stars-obsession-pit]

I’ve seen this idea mentioned sometimes that the Joker has something set up where if you kill him, he infects you with something that tries to make you into another Joker. I have no idea if that has any basis in the comics - it hasn’t turned up in any of the stuff i’ve read - but either way imagine using that with a “Danny kills the joker” story.

He might be partially protected thanks to not being fully human, but he doesn’t know. All he can tell is that he’s at least somewhat affected. It’s not like he knows of any examples of this happening before. Maybe his powers saved him, or maybe the toxin wouldn’t be fully effective on a normal person either. Or perhaps it just acts slowly, or it prevents him from realizing how far it’s warped him. He can’t tell.

He’s getting paranoid, he knows. But what else can he do? He can’t just ignore it and give in. He hates this. Why did this have to happen to him? Is there some force in the universe determined to ruin everything for him? Is his whole life some cosmic joke? He should burn it all down, then they’ll see who’s the joke—

no.

He refuses to do that. He doesn’t want to do that. He is was a hero, right?

But he was hated then, too. And now he doesn’t even have a respite. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him whenever he goes outside. He knows they’re judging him, waiting for him to snap. The one that try to help are clearly just trying to avoid him targeting then first. He hates it. He hates them. If he makes them fear him, maybe their stares will stop. No, no, he’s trying to avoid that. It is true that it might be safer for his loved ones if he drives them away though…

Maybe he should turn himself in. That could keep them safe. But what if they try to study him again, cut into his brain and see what makes him tick just like the GIW did?

Jason reaches into his jacket and begins to draw his pistol, readying for a fight. Neither hide nor hair of the Joker has been seen in days, and he’s constantly on edge. And he just heard the distinctive sound of sobbing laughter of a Joker Toxin victim. Part of him wanted to rush in guns blazing, but he forced himself to move slowly, carefully. He was not walking into a trap again.

Peaking into the room, he saw a single figure sitting within; a person, curled up in the corner with head in hands. Shit. He re-holstered his gun and began to approach slowly.

They didn’t seem to notice him, even as he stood right beside them and took in their appearance more closely. It was a boy, probably not much younger than him but looking much smaller in fear. His fingernails were chewed bloody, with more blood staining all around his mouth. His skin was incredibly pale, and Jason couldn’t tell if it was from a natural pallor, fear, or some sort of chemical effect. Jason reached out to touch his shoulder, and the boy suddenly jerked back and scrambled away, only seeming to notice him now.

“S—stay back!” he yelped. Jason thought his eyes flashed green for a moment, but he assumes it must have been the light. More importantly, the bloody lips clearly weren’t just from the boy’s hands; there were sizable wounds in his cheeks, presumably from more chewing.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” Jason said, showing his empty hands and trying to be reassuring.

“Stop lying! That’s what they all say! No one ever actually cares.”

“I promise you I’m telling the truth. Here— I’ll take a step back now. I’m not going to attack you. But you do need medical attention—I can get you an ambulance.”

“No– I can’t– no hospitals,” the boy hiccoughed. “Not safe.”

“How about a private clinic? I know some that won’t ask questions.”

“No, it’s not them! I’m not safe! I’m a ticking time bomb! I killed—” he broke himself off. When he spoke again, it was quiet, almost a confession, “I– I can’t, I refuse to be like him. I won’t follow in his footsteps.”

“Like who?”

“The Joker.”

[aporatael]

...

Who’d want to waste spacetime on anything else?

“Do you only take people along with you just to convince yourself that you’re not selfish?” I ask, interested. “Or do you normally take children - no, not children, children would argue - but fuckable young people, I bet. Girls, mostly. In their twenties, I bet. Because they’ll just smile and agree and compromise.”

“That’s very rude,” the Doctor says, startled. “Like. Wow. Seriously?”

“Is it true? Eohippus.”

“Not true at all. Pliohippus.”

“Pliohippus comes just before Equus, you quack.”

“Why do you even care? They’re not like they’re real horses. Just a generic beetlin’-around, weird little spotty beastie paddin’ around like a long-legged boring badger. D’yiu want to see some real proper horses, alien ones? I know a race of them with blue shiny wing cases and six genders. Caste system based entirely on the production and rating of poetry - ”

“Oh, they’re spotted?” I cry happily. “Wait, you’ve seen them?”

“All they do is run about on the forest floor, eatin’… fruit.”

“Fruit?”

“I don’t know. Boring things. They don’t even neigh. Just trundle around like guinea pigs.”

“Doctor,” I say eventually, pondering this, “you like horses, don’t you.”

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor says. “I only humour you to keep the peace. And it isn’t bloody working.”

“You like horses. Let’s meet the first ones. Again. And do it properly. Look them in the eye and see the spark of the kinship - see if we can feel the deep emotional connection of the bond-”

“What bond is that?” The Doctor says, but - hahahaha. I’ve got him. The Doctor is such a horse girl.

“The deep emotional connection of the kinship between horses - well, horse-shaped things - and humans. Well. Human-shaped things. Is it still there? Did it start there? When you look in the eyes of Eohippus, will you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The thing you feel when you look at horses,” I say. “Excitement and adventure and potential and wonder, the desire to love and be loved by it, a thousand wishes, and the feeling of being there at the dawn of the world.”

“We could just go to the Big Bang -”

“I didn’t say the Big Bang. I said the dawn of the world. It’s different. Are they horses? Will you feel the same way with Eohippus? Is the feeling there?”

“Rubbish!” says the Doctor, looking hot and bothered, and setting the coordinates.

Of course it does escalate from there, with running and shouting and aliens (seeking to stripmine the earth’s resources before there were humans to defend it; quite a good plan honestly; genuinely can’t work out why they aren’t all trying that?) but I don’t care; I’m sitting on the forest floor with Eohippus in my arms, having decided that there’s nothing stopping me from doing so; at the dawn of the world.

“NOT the Big Bang,” I say again, as the Doctor squats down beside me. “The dawn of the world.”

And we are quiet for a while.

“Wow,” the Doctor says eventually.

“Yeah.”

“They really are all in there. All the horses that ever were and will be. In that little eye. It’s a kind eye,” he announces, as horse girls do when they mean to compliment a horse with few other notable positives. “And that’s where it all starts.”

“Yeah.”

“Bellerophon and Secretariat and Arthur - I had a horse called Arthur.”

“What happened to him?”

“Gave him back. Can’t keep a horse in the TARDIS.”

“Keep this one,” I say impulsively.

“You know we can’t.”

“… can we clone it?”

Something Doctor Who misses out on is how none of the companions are extremely interested with any one thing. All the companions are all “idk, I have a few ideas of stuff that’d be cool to see, but I’m up for whatever! All of space and time, woohoo! :)”

And that’s great for them and I know it makes for a better show overall but I think it would be more realistic for someone to say “I want to see every historically significant moment for my special interest, and then I want to double back for mundane bits too.”

I, for example, would be an insufferable companion.

I’d be like, “okay now take me to the place and time where they first used stirrups for the whole ride instead of just using them as a foothold to mount the horse. Then I want to watch Ray Hunt put a first ride on a colt. After that we’ll take a nap, and then let’s sneak onto set of the Return of the King to be extras in the Ride of the Rohirrim”

The Doctor would be all “please. This is the twentieth horse-centric stop in a row. We have all of space available to us. Can we leave Earth this time I’m begging you”

And my annoying ass would go “not unless there’s horses in space” roll credits

[loverboysturn]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ popular!chris and the football team take a visit to the diner when cinderella!reader is on shift !

find all popular!chris and cinderella!reader writings here and everything else here!

note: you might want to read this first before reading the below so some things make more sense :) my au’s are always open for this au! come yap or ask me questions about them!

you normally hated working the late shift.

but for a friday night, it was quiet. the diner was empty, a few regulars sat in their usual seats and some families scattered about but all in all, your shift had been peaceful so far. the constant hum of the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans, and the sizzling sounds of the chefs at work was comforting to you, you wipe down the counter in front of you for the third time since you started work tonight, pretending to not notice how time was dragging on. it was boring but you were grateful for the calmness of it all, especially after the last week.

the world outside the diner seemed to be moving slowly too, the streets outside empty apart from the occasional cars driving by, it was one of those rare nights where it was quiet enough that you could find the time to think, your mind always going back to the same thing, same person.

but, the peace didn’t last long.

the door swings open, and the group swarm in, instantly filling the diner with their energy. their voices louder than usual, bouncing off the walls as they joked and laughed. the football team walking in first, followed not long after by a cluster of cheerleaders, all of them still hyped up from practice.

you barely have any time to adjust to the sudden change in the atmosphere before they were all over the place. completely taking over the booths at the back of the diner, making themselves known to everyone else already in here. their noise filling every corner of the diner, and the chatter between them growing with every passing second. the peace and quiet you had only just been enjoying was suddenly replaced with noise, and lots of it.

your colleague pops her head from behind the counter quietly calling your name. “honey, can you take the booths in the back for me? i’ll take the tables after, i just need to wrap up what i’m doing”

you didn’t need to look over to know to known which booths she was talking about.

you hesitate for a second, trying to scramble up an excuse as to why you can’t, feeling a familiar knot of dread tighten in your stomach.

“but, i—i” you stutter, brain working overdrive to find an excuse.

“please?” she asks again, giving you a small smile.

you sigh, accepting your fate. “yeah, of course.” you really, really didn’t want to serve them. the teasing, the jokes—it was always the same when they were around, and you weren’t in the mood for it all tonight, but you couldn’t say no to her.

taking a deep breath, you straightened out your apron and forced yourself to look unbothered by them all, the last thing you needed was for them to start making more of a scene, but you knew the moment you walked over, they’d find something to laugh at.

as you make your way to the table, your eyes immediately land on chris sturniolo, and for a second, your stomach flips. the memory of bumping into him in the hallway earlier this week flashes in your mind—your books flying out of your arms, the way your cheeks went a deep red after falling to the floor, rejecting his offer to help you up, you quickly look away, trying to shake the feeling of being in his line of vision for the first time since, even though he hadn’t so much as even looked at you once.

“here she is, diner girl” one of the football team says as he sees you, loud enough for them all to hear. you recognise him as the guy who was rude to you you the other day when you bumped into chris. “don’t forget your service with a smile today.”

you bite your lip, forcing a smile as you click your pen and pull out your notepad to take their order.

it was hard to not feel the weight of all their eyes on you, you had enough going on at the minute, you’d been juggling assignments at school, your stepmother signing you up for shift after shift, and on top of it all, there were the late night texts you shared with someone you still didn’t know the identity of but for you it was easier that way, completely anonymous. there were no expectations, no judgement. just words on a screen, but they were words that were starting to mean a lot to you.

“what can i get you guys today?” you ask, trying to keep your tone professional. you wasn’t in the mood for the teasing from them tonight, but you’d try to just ignore it.

“milkshakes” one of the cheerleaders looks up at you with a fake smile, “the usual, don’t fuck it up.”

as she finishes speaking, another cheerleader giggles at her friends’ rudeness, a sharp, laugh that rings in your ears after, you recognise her as the head cheerleader—always the loudest, the first to join in with the diner girl jokes. your eyes briefly look over to where she has her arm casually draped over chris’s, trying to gain his attention, but he wasn’t paying any interest in her, not even looking up from his phone, clearly more interested in what was on the screen than the girl bedside him.

they were the stereotypical on-and-off couple—chris, the school’s golden boy and captain of the football team and her, the head cheerleader and the girl all her friends wanted to be. everyone knew their drama, how they’d broken up and gotten back together more times than you could count on both hands. the last you’d heard, they’d broken up for good just before the summer break started but you’d never paid much attention to it, the gossip of the popular crowd had never really interested you—it was always the same boring stories.

“got it” you say, your voice flat as you force a smile. you turn on your heel, rolling your eyes when they could no longer see you, the feeling of frustration brewing in your chest at the way they treated anyone not in their group but you’d gotten good at pretending they didn’t bother you at work, even when they did. you knew they’d leave a terrible tip anyway, that’s if they even left one at all.

you make sure the milkshakes come out exactly as they ordered to prevent any more rude comments from them—a few vanilla, a few chocolate and some strawberry flavoured. you place them carefully on the table, trying your best to avoid eye contact with anyone but as you set the last one in front of chris, he looks up at you, eyes locking with yours.

“you know, diner girl” one of his teammates interrupts the eye contact, a smirk forming on his lips. “i think we shouldn’t have to pay for these tonight, they’re on the house, right? you know.. ‘cause of your little accident running into chris this week.”

the whole table erupts into laughter, a few other comments muttered and fake giggles, a cheerleader chimes in “yeah, maybe you should stay out the way next time and you’d earn your tips.”

you still don’t let your frustrations show, just nodding at them. “enjoy your drinks guys.” you sigh, quickly walking away before any more comments can be thrown your way.

an hour or so later, the group finish their drinks and you notice them all start to make their way to the exit, their noise and laughter still echoing all around the diner. you stand behind the counter, cleaning a coffee mug, hoping they’ll just hurry up and leave.

“thanks for the free milkshakes, diner girl” one of the football team shouts. “you’ll have to bump into our golden boy more often.”

you don’t respond, just waiting for them all to finally leave, bringing the diner back to the quiet you were enjoying earlier.

you turn to grab a rag from under the counter, already bracing yourself for their mess that you’ll now have to clean, but as you’re about to head over, you feel someone standing on the other side of the counter infront of you.

you glance up, half expecting it to be one of the football team or a cheerleader, waiting to throw one last comment at you before they leave for good, but when you look up and your eyes land on chris, you’re taken aback. he’s standing there, his posture is calm, but you can sense the tension in his shoulders and for a second, you freeze, waiting for him to make some kind of snide remark.

but he doesn’t.

“i just wanted to say” he begins, voice softer than you expected. “i’m sorry for how they all treated you tonight. i didn’t like that they spoke to you like that” he looks down, eyes on the counter infront of him. “the thing in the hallway the other day with me and you, that was completely my fault. i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

you blink in surprise, a look of confusion taking over your face. you wasn’t expecting this, you open your mouth to say something, but the words are stuck in your throat.

“i—“ you start, unsure of how to respond. “it’s fine, i—I’m kinda used to it now.”

he shakes his head, finally looking up at you now. “no,” his voice firm, “you shouldn’t have to be used to it, that’s not fair on you but i’m sorry if my stupid clumsiness made it all worse tonight.”

when you saw him stood there just now, you expected the same attitude you receive off his friends, the same dismissive tone in his voice but instead, he’s apologising for them and you can’t quite figure out why.

“honestly, chris” you say, forcing a smile. “it’s fine, you don’t have to apologise.”

his gaze lingers on you, then without warning, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled bill, sliding it over to you. “here,” he says, “for the milkshakes.”

“thank you,” you murmur, voice softer with him now, you take the money, fingers brushing against his making the awkward tension in the air between you become thick enough that you feel yourself becoming flustered.

chris gives you a half-smile, a rare one that feels a lot more genuine than the usual one you see him throw about at football games and in the hallways. “it’s nothing,” he says, his tone softening. “and, uh…you really know how to make a great strawberry milkshake, guess i owe you one now for that too.”

you blink, completely caught off guard but before you can say anything else, chris turns and heads for the door, slipping out with his friends, door swinging shut behind him. you watch him go, still feeling confused by him being nice to you but you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he is still like the rest of them, charming when he wants something, but just as rude as his friends when it doesn’t matter to him.

you push your thoughts aside, just wanting to forget about the whole scene and pretend your shift tonight didn’t happen, you focus on the task waiting for you, heading over to the now messy booth where they’d been sitting that needed cleaning.

as you wipe the table, your mind drifts to your mystery guy and you can’t help but wonder what he’s doing right now. is he thinking about you too? you glance at the clock, a sense of relief running through you when you see there’s only an hour left of your shift.

sixty more minutes, and you’ll be able to talk to him again, the only thing that had been on your mind all night, the only thing that makes the chaos of your life all fade into the background.

little did you know, the guy who was keeping you up at night and consuming your thoughts, was standing just a few feet from you earlier, complimenting you on your strawberry milkshakes and you had no idea.