#PLUS TWO MORE DIRECTLY ON MY JEAN…

[seeingivy]

fall concert

roommate eren x f!reader 

eren surprises you with a night out. 

**find the mini-series masterlist here 

content: mentions of drinking, annie and jean are horny drunks, eren being a simp, touching ur thighs? idk, scars again, reader tries on clothes and gets frustrated so like that kinda, stranger things joke

an: ok I delayed letting things crash and burn so my moots who have finals can be happy for a few more days. ok enjoy bitches there’s more jealous eren where we’re coming from

previous part linked here

- 

“Eren. Why are you…twitching?” 

You had been watching Eren for a better part of the last five minutes. The two of you were studying, your papers sprawled around the table as you finished up the last of your assignments. He seemed flighty, more than usual, like he was going to fall off of his chair any second. 

“I’m not twitching.” 

“Yes, you are. The entire table is shaking. Do you need to take a break or something?” 

You look up from your laptop again, Eren’s glasses perched at the top of his nose. You never known he wore them until a few days ago, when the two of you started studying together at home. 

“Can I try them on?” 

“What? Why?” 

“I just wanted to see if I look as cute as you do when you wear them.” 

You watch his cheeks turn a bright pink, as he very begrudgingly hands them over to you. You place them on the bridge of your nose, securing your hair behind your ears, and giving him a big smile. 

“Do I look cute?” 

“Yes. Very cute. Now give them back.” 

You twist them off your face, placing them back in Eren’s hands. 

“I’m lucky you don’t wear them all the time. I’ve got a whole thing for glasses, going on.” 

You try to ignore the fact that Eren has been wearing them ever since you said that.

He stops twitching and reaches in his bag while responding. 

“Ah. I just…have something for you.” 

You get up from your chair across from him, sliding into the one directly at his side. You hold out your hands in front of him, shaking your fingers at him to give it to you. 

“Okay. Hand it over, Yeager.” 

He places a small, white envelope with your name scribbled over the top into your palm. You give him a reassuring smile before sliding your fingers under the envelope, ripping it open. It’s a piece of paper with a green sticky note pressed on top. You run your hands over the sticky note, recognizing Eren’s handwriting immediately.

y/n. since you give me my own personal concert every morning when you take a shower, i figured id repay the favor and take you to a real one. 

You rip off the sticky note to find a concert ticket for the Monsoons, one of your favorite bands mind you, at the stadium in the city. You scan your eyes over the ticket, realizing Eren had bagged you floor seats for the concert, which was on Saturday. 

You look up at Eren, who was still nervously twitching in the seat next to you. You spring over the chairs, knocking both of you to the ground as you wrap your arms around him. You’re basically screaming at him - thanking him for getting you floor tickets, asking how much they were, that you needed to get an outfit. 

He sits up on the floor - where the two of you are still sitting after you knocked him down - and takes your hands into his. 

“Do you always knock people over when you’re excited or is it just me?” 

“Just you.” 

He rolls his eyes, prodding his fingers into your forehead, murmuring something about how ridiculous you are under his breath. 

“Plus. No one ever does stuff for me like this.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah. I think it’s the first time someone has ever surprised me with a gift or something I wanted.” 

“Well, that’s stupid. You can expect it from now on.” 

You press yourself into Eren’s chest, wrapping your arms around his again. You can feel your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard and your head pounding a little, the excitement of the moment finally catching up with you. 

- 

You groan in frustration, hanging the last dress you had picked out back on the rail as you swipe your shirt back over head. 

You had been trying on dresses for a better part of the last hour - trying to find a perfect one for the concert, which was tomorrow. You had no luck - the color was unflattering, showed off too much skin, didn’t fit right. 

You feel Eren rap his knuckles against the door, asking if you were done yet. You open the door, groaning at him. 

“That one was somehow the worst one.” 

“You didn’t even show me any of them. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” 

You shake your head. That would be embarrassing. Not that you care much about that type of stuff - Eren has literally watched you parade around in your pajamas before but this was somehow different. You tried to avoid this situation altogether - Eren taking you dress shopping - but he was the only one who was free to give you a ride. 

Armin’s parents were in town, so Armin and Annie were immediately out of the picture. They’d still be joining you at the concert tomorrow, since Eren had bought them and Jean tickets as well. Jean had lacrosse practice so he couldn’t take you either. Not that Jean or Armin were better options, but they were better than Eren. It felt too vulnerable and personal to tell him any of this and you didn’t really want him to pity you either. But here he was, watching you drown in your frustrations. 

“This is so stupid. This is why I hate shopping, nothing ever looks right on me and I just end up irritated at the end of it.” 

Eren can see the frustration building up - by the way your shoulders are tensed up and your eyes are all pinched together. He can’t figure out how to fix it - he can’t really tell you that you’re his favorite thing to look at, that sometimes he can’t keep his eyes off you no matter how hard he tries, can he? 

“Can I pick one for you?” 

“What?” 

“A dress. Let me pick one out for you, it’ll take like five minutes.” 

“You can try. I’m sure it’ll still look stupid anyways though so don’t waste too much time.” 

He watches you slump onto the seat in the changing room before running out into the store, scattering the aisles to find the perfect dress for you. He’d done this hundreds of times - helped his mom, Mikasa, his brother, Armin - find the perfect clothes to wear. Some part of him found it relaxing, picking out the fabrics and looking at all the different colors. 

His mom looked best in neutrals - dark browns and creams. He thought it made her eyes look the best, her brown eyes sparkling gold in the sun. Mikasa was best in red, maroon specifically, and Armin always looked best in blue (which was a no-go, he does have blue eyes and all). 

But you? You’d look good in any color, in anything. He’s trying his best not to dismiss the way you’re feeling, after discarding all the dresses you had already tried on, but he’s positive you’d look great in any of them. He’d be able to say it too if you actually let him see you try them on. 

He settles for a light green slip dress, the neckline surrounded by embroidered lace work. He tries to ignore the thought of you slipping it on and rushes back to the dressing room to hand it to you. 

You’re still sitting on the bench where he left you, folding all of the other clothes you had tried on. He grabs your arms to pull you up, handing you the dress he had picked out. 

“Don’t be offended if I don’t end up getting it, okay? That’s more about me looking bad in it and less about what you picked.” 

“You’re not going to look bad in it. At least let me see when you try it on, okay?” 

“You know most guys hate this type of stuff.” 

“That’s not true. Armin does this with Annie all the time.” 

“Armin’s whipped for Annie though. He’d probably willingly run over coals, happily mind you, if she asked him to.” 

Eren watches you close the door to try the dress on and nearly panics. Oh god. You know. You have to know that he likes you. Why else would you make that comment about Armin and Annie, who are dating? 

“Um.” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, Ren. I just…can’t really get the zipper up.” 

“I can help you…if you want. If that’s okay. Or I can grab a girl to do it for you.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I don’t mind if you do it.” 

You slide the door open, signaling Eren to join you in the doorway. You turn around, swinging your hair over your shoulder, for Eren to zip up the dress. 

It’s in this moment that Eren silently thanks the gods for inventing zippers and putting them back at the back of dresses where people can’t reach them. He’s going to explode, right here and right now. 

He reaches down, slowly zipping it up while observing every little thing on your back - the freckles sprinkled all around, your soft skin against his knuckles, and your smell wafting in the air. Stupid fucking peach smell. This has to be some type of psychological Pavlov classical conditioning shit the way his heart pounds every time he smells it. 

“Do you like it, Y/N?” 

You turn around, smoothing down the fabric of the dress and turn towards Eren. He’s watching you through the mirror, your eyes fixed on your frame as you look at the dress. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, thank god. I was actually going to have to strangle you if you disagreed with me on this one.” 

You reach forward, pulling him into your arms. 

“Thank you, Eren. You’re really sweet. I’m sorry for taking so long and getting so frustrated. I just hate this kind of stuff.” 

It’s Eren’s turn to feel his cheeks burn, using his hands to rub small circles into your back. 

“It’s okay. I know it’s not everyone’s thing. Mikasa and my mom are way worse, trust me. Don’t even get me started on how picky Jean is.” 

He feels the tangling in his chest settle at the sound of your laugh, your eyes beaming into his. 

“I used to like it at one point. Like picking out new clothes, making new outfits. But, I don’t know. Floch thought it was dumb sometimes so I kind of stopped.” 

“Floch?” 

“Oh, right. He’s the ex-boyfriend I told you about.��� 

He reaches for your hand, running his fingers over the scar between your knuckles again. He had to fight the urge to not kiss your hand or kiss you every time he saw it, the anger rising in him at the thought of you being hurt like that. 

He settled for just running his fingers across it, every time it caught his eye - when you were watching a movie, handing him his keys before he left, saying goodnight. He’s not sure what he was trying to accomplish, if it even did anything, but you always smiled or squeezed his hand in return, so he never stopped. 

You immediately pull your hand back, holding it in your other one against your chest. Too much. This is too much. Eren picked out a dress for you, you told him about Floch, again, and you’re standing so close. 

“You okay? Did I do something?” 

“Yeah. No, you just make me nervous sometimes.” 

“Uh huh. And what is it that you think you do to me?” 

“Annoy you?” 

You watch his features press in frustration as he gets up off the wall, leaving your dressing room. 

“You’re impossible, kitty.” 

“Stop calling me kitty.” 

- 

Eren’s hands are shaking again, pulling back the zip of the dress. You have to be doing this on purpose. 

You look pretty. So, so pretty. Your hair is out of its usual loose bun, light waves pressed through your hair. The front pieces are braided back and he can’t help himself. He reaches forward, twisting the end of the braid in his fingers. 

“Does it look fine?” 

“It’s pretty. I like it.” 

He can’t breathe. He’s going to take you to a hundred concerts if it means doing this every time. He wants to run his fingers through your hair, watch your nimble fingers braid through them. And he wants to hug you, just so he can smell in that sweet, flowery perfume you sprayed on, in earnest. And your stupid freckles on your back- he wants to draw out constellations on them, see which part of the sky you’re walking around with everyday. 

“Ren. You good?”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry. Got distracted.” 

“By?” 

You swing around, your eyes peering into his. He’s not sure what you did, maybe the black around your eyes, but your eyes are prettier. Bigger. They’re glimmering. He can’t even look at you without panicking. 

“You have freckles. On your back.” 

He watches you twirl around, craning your neck to see them in the mirror. 

“It’s not a bad thing, Y/N. I like them.” 

He watches the smile spread across your face, as you reach into your drawers to finish off your makeup. He can’t help but watch you, mesmerized by different colors you were putting on your face. 

“Is this your first time watching someone do makeup?” 

“No. I’ve seen my mom do it a few times.” 

He sees you nod, turning back to press a light green glitter to your eyelids and then spreading some across the length of your collarbones.

“You're almost done?” 

“Yeah, just two more things and then we can go meet them.” 

You pour out a small amount of concealer onto your hand, spreading it across your shoulder where your scar from falling off the bike was. 

You feel Eren reach for your fingers, stopping you before you can fully cover it up. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just covering it up. It’ll just take a few seconds.” 

“No. I gathered that. I’m asking why.” 

He lets go of your hand, leaning over the counter as you sit there and think. Why do you cover it up? 

“Um. I’m not really sure. I guess I’ve just always done it.” 

“Well, don’t.” 

You stare at him, his face scrunched up in frustration. You watch his expression change, immediately back-tracking from what he just said. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, you don’t have to. If you think people won’t like it. It’s normal, you know. We all have scars. And yours is nice. I mean, it’s not nice that you got it but I like it-“ 

You put your hands on his shoulders, squeezing twice which stops his talking all together. He sticks his forehead on your shoulder, resting against your frame. You can’t help but laugh. 

“Eren. Why are you…word vomiting today?” 

“You make me nervous.” 

Ah. 

“And what is it you think you do to me?” 

“Shut up. You’re not funny.” 

He lifts his head up, looking back at your eyes. You’re quite literally beaming at him and in this moment he swears you could be the sun.

“I’m already having fun. I appreciate you doing this for me. And I won’t cover up my scar, if you like it that much.” 

He nods, watching you rub your fingers into the leftover product on your hand. You both walk out of the bathroom, grabbing the last few things left on your counter. 

“Wait. I got you something.” 

He watches you hop into your room, coming back out with a nicely packaged green box. You hand it over to him, balancing on the balls of your feet as you watch him open the package. 

You watch his eyes widen as he pulls the silver chain out, twisting it in his fingertips. 

“You always wear your key necklace. I just thought it would be nice to get you another one. Since you got me very expensive concert tickets and all.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

“I know that. I wanted to.” 

He smiles, holding open his arms to hug you. You happily oblige, pressing yourself against him. He leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head, before letting you go and holding out the chain for you. You can feel your brain malfunctioning - full on 404 error, rainbow pinwheel, nothing. 

“Can you help me put it on?” 

You nod. You can feel your fingers shaking, understanding why Eren was so distracted when he helped you with your dress. Well, you didn’t kiss him before so you’re at some unfair advantage. 

Some part of this feels too intimate, helping each other get ready, him watching you do your makeup, putting on his necklace - like you were a pair of lovers or something. 

You hook the latch, lightly tapping on his shoulder to signal you were done. The two of you lock up your apartment, walking down the hall to meet Armin, Jean, and Annie. 

“You kiss all your friends?” 

“Yeah. Armin loves my soft little pecks.” 

- 

“You come around here often?” 

“Shut up, Jean.” 

You can’t help but laugh at Annie and Eren’s quick retort. Some part of you thinks they practice it when you’re not around by the way it's so perfectly in sync.  

“You two can stop pouting. I made the same joke about Armin earlier. I wouldn’t dream of bothering your precious Y/N or your sweet Armin, Annie.” 

Jean swings his arms around you and Armin, teasing Eren and Annie on. The five of you pile into the venue, scanning in all your tickets, and are immediately thrown off by how many people are there. You swore you were only there for five seconds but when you turn your head, the four of them are gone. 

You back out of the crowd, making your way to the benches to text them. 

to “jean stfu” 

you: why did you guys leave me behind,,,, ur so mean :(

armin: where did you go? we thought you were right behind us 

annie: were you holding on to anyone? 

you: no,,

jean: eren, start holding on to your girl or we’ll start doing it for you

eren removed jean from the group chat 

annie: add him back tomorrow. he’s doing too much. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Eren. 

“Were you planning on just standing there or following us?” 

“You guys just moved so fast! I literally turned my head and you were gone.” 

“Right. You’re almost literally in the same spot.” 

“Well, I was just looking for you guys.” 

He rolls his eyes, locking his fingers as he walks through the crowd with you this time. He’s holding you right against his frame, leading you in front of him so he can keep his eyes on you. He successfully gets you to where the three of them are standing. You gravitate towards Annie, taking the spot next to hers. 

“Find your girl?” 

“Yeah. She was where we left her, at the entrance.” 

You shift in your spot, craning your neck to see if you heard what you think you heard. Probably not. Right. Because why would Jean call you Eren’s girl? Again? And why would he not correct him? 

The five of you stand there for a few hours, screaming through the opener, and waiting for the show to start. You and Jean talk about how Eren used to be as a kid, you play rock paper scissors with Armin, and braid Annie’s hair while you wait. 

“Hey. Can we get drinks before it starts?” 

Armin nods. You go up to Eren, tapping on his shoulder and breaking him out of the very intense conversation he was having with Jean about something you couldn’t quite hear.

“Hey. Can I have my wallet? Armin and I are going to get drinks.” 

“Sure you’ll make it to the back without getting trampled? Do I need to carry you on my back?”

“Oh, shut up Ren. Wallet please.” 

He smiles, placing the wallet in your hand. You link hands with Armin, walking towards the back where the vendors were standing. The two of you break apart, Armin going to the vendor on the right and you heading to the one on the left. 

As you stand in the line, you look down and realize that Eren handed you his wallet and not yours. Asshole. You pull the cards out of his wallet, trying to shuffle for his credit card to buy the water. As you swipe through the cards, you find two polaroids tucked in the back pocket, pulling them out. 

The first one is a picture of a group of Eren and his friends. You can recognize Armin, Jean, and Mikasa, his childhood best friend that he had mentioned before. You wrack your mind, trying to remember if Eren or Armin ever mentioned that they grew up with Jean too. 

You focus on the other two people in the picture, the ones you can't recognize. One is a girl, with short brown hair tied up into a ponytail at the top of her head. She has her arm swung around another guy, with short buzzed hair. You can identify Armin’s neat handwriting at the bottom, “the scouts” inscribed onto the polaroid. 

You tuck the photo back into the pocket, twisting the other one in your fingers to get a look at it. You drop it the second you flip it over, immediately crouching on the ground to find it. 

The polaroid is of you. You and Eren. You have your arms swung around his neck and you’re kissing his cheek. You run your fingers over the picture - trying to smudge the ink, flip it over for any words, find any explanation to when this picture was taken. You can’t even remember it. 

The girl in line behind you taps on your shoulder, signaling that it was my turn to go in the line. You tuck the picture back into the wallet, buying the waters and turning back to Annie. As the two of you link arms again, making your way back to the vendor, you can’t help but feel your head running at a million miles per hour. 

When did you guys take that picture? Why did you kiss his cheek? Why did he keep the picture in his wallet? Or not tell you?

You loop your arm with Armin’s again, the two of you bustling your way through the crowd back where you were standing. You hand the water bottles to Eren, Annie, and Jean, the latter of which mentions “he could kiss you two for this” which just pisses Eren and Annie even more. 

You make your way over to Eren, taking the spot next to him. He leans down, moving closer to you so you can hear him. 

“Hey. Having fun?” 

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.” 

“No really, I am.” 

He squints his eyes at you, before turning back to the stage. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Before you can ask, the music starts blaring over you, the two of you thrown out of your thoughts as the music starts. That’s fine. You can settle for asking him later. 

The crowd gets closer around you, nearly shoving as you push to the stage. Before you can move out of the way, you feel Eren wrap his arms around you, stopping you from getting lost again. You look up, his head right next to yours. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Towards the middle of the concert, a very tall group of people stands right in front of you. You shake Annie, who you had been holding hands with for a good part of the concert, the two of you rolling your eyes at them. 

Armin taps on her shoulder, lifting her up by swinging her legs around her shoulders. You look up, watching her laugh as she sticks her hands in Armin’s hair. 

You feel Jean reach for your shoulder, leaning his head near yours. 

“I can do that for you. If you want.” 

“I’m going to hurt you, Jean.” 

“I’m just kidding, Eren! You’re just so easy to mess with.” 

You turn to Eren, who's still standing behind you. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

“Yeah. Get on.” 

He bends down and you swing your legs over his shoulder, placing your hands in his air, as he lifts you up. You try to avoid the burning sensation of his hands resting on your thighs, thinking back to the time he touched them while the two of you were sitting on his bed, and focus on the music. You reach over and link hands with Annie in the air, the two of you singing to the music together. 

Eren avoids the burning sensation he’s feeling in his entire body from holding you like this. The ends of your dress are piled up near the top of your legs, which leaves just his hands touching just your thighs. He looks up, to find you entirely distracted, screaming the song with Annie. Probably fine then. 

The second the concert ends, Eren slowly sets you down, steadying you as your feet hit the ground. 

“You good?” 

“Yeah, thanks Ren.” 

Annie and Jean find their way next to the two of you, devious smiles pressed on their faces. They’re drunk. Not that you aren't either, but they’re definitely worse than you. 

“Are you good, my sweet precious little Y/N?”

“Yeah, thank you Eren.” 

You laugh at their high pitched voices, the two of them mimicking you, as the five of you trudge out the crowd. 

“Shut up. You’re not funny. I’m going to hurt you, Annie.” 

“Shut up, Eren. That’s basically what you said to her. And is that your only threat? You can do so much better than that.” 

“That wasn’t even close!” 

Jean swings his hand around your shoulder, leaning a majority of his weight on you as you leave the venue. 

“You can do way better.” 

“Way better for what?” 

“Then Eren! You know him - he’s all annoying and egotistical and shit.” 

“Not all the time! I feel like that was just at the beginning.” 

“If you were my roommate, we’d be dating already. Scratch that, married.” 

Eren’s going to kill Jean. Like actually. He’s been trailing behind the two of you, helping Armin drag Annie back to the car. He’s not even sure when Annie and Jean found time to drink during the concert, but here they are. Wasted. 

Does Jean think he doesn’t want to date you? Eren wants to date you. He wants to date you so bad. Press soft kisses to your hair when you wake up in the morning, sleep in your bed, watch you steal his clothes. He wants to date you. 

The second the five of you reach the car, you prop Jean and Annie against the car, wobbling in your stance. You grab onto Eren, as Armin starts attempts to shove Annie in the back of the car. 

Jean gets up off the car, placing his hands on your shoulders. 

“Nice scar.” 

You pale, forgetting that you had forgotten to cover it up since Eren asked you to. You grab the loose ends of your hair, brushing it over your shoulder. Eren catches you doing it and now he’s actually going to kill Jean. 

“Hey. Can you grab water from the people at the end there? Annie will probably vomit the second we start driving.” 

The second you walk away, it’s Eren’s turn to shove Jean in the car. 

“You’re pissing me off, Jean. Get in the fucking car and shut up.” 

“Mad your little girlfriend likes me?” 

“She doesn’t like you.” 

Annie sticks her head out the window, grabbing Eren’s face with her hands. 

“You’re an idiot. How do you know she doesn’t like Jean?” 

“Annie, my sweet. Get back in the car, yeah?”

How does he know that you don’t like Jean? Like he manifested you just by thinking about you, Eren feels you next to him again, leaning against his arm. The two of you are standing outside of the car, watching Annie fight with Jean over Armin. 

“Oh my god. They’re such horny drunks. Let’s leave while we still can.” 

You stick your head into the window of the car, wishing luck to Armin as Jean reaching up to lock his fingers with yours. 

“Marry me, Y/N?” 

“Okay, Jean. Sure.”  

You and Eren walk away from the car, Jean still moping in the front seat as you walk away. 

 -

You and Eren make your way back to the apartment - your feet, ears, head aching. The two of you are sluggish, basically drinking any water in the nearby proximity and hopping to the nearest chair. The two of you sit there, your heads leaning against the back of the couch as your exhaustion seeps in. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“Tired, kitty?” 

“Ew. Yeah. Had a ton of fun though.”

Eren’s reeling. See, he had a plan. He was going to take you to the concert, bring you home, and kiss you. 

The truth is, he can’t really wait any longer. Every single thing you did was driving him crazy - every time he woke up next to you when he accidentally fell asleep in your bed, watching you come to all his games, buying him the necklace. He likes you. Too much. He has to do something about it. 

But now he’s not sure. Do you like Jean? Did he misread you and him all together? He knows that the two of you were friends - but he thought he was just like Armin to you. He feels your head plop on his shoulder, you settling your head on his frame. 

“You okay? I feel like I can see the steam coming off your head from thinking so hard.” 

“Yeah.” 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Do you like Jean?” 

You’re quiet. Too quiet. Oh god, you like Jean. Eren’s going to kill him. Or Armin, for introducing you. Or you, for liking him. 

“Would it bother you if I did?”

“Maybe, a little bit.” 

“Just a little?” 

“Okay, a lot.” 

You laugh, nuzzling your cheek into his. Idiot. 

“It would bother me too.” 

“What would?” 

“If you liked Jean.” 

The two of you laugh before sitting there in silence, pressed against each other, pondering over each other’s words. He doesn’t want you to like Jean. You don’t want him to like someone else. The two of you can settle for that, for tonight at least. 

“Do you have my wallet? You never gave it back.” 

The wallet. The picture. This is your chance to ask. 

You turn to face him, resting your hands on his biceps. 

“Eren.” 

“Kitty.” 

“Stop that.” 

He laughs, turning his head to the side as he does. 

“You’d tell me if I forgot something right? Like, if I did something weird while I was drunk, you would remind me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

You pull the polaroid out, handing it to him.

“Papa. You lie.” 

He laughs at your joke, twisting the polaroid in his fingers. 

“Okay, Eleven. That’s enough. I totally forgot this was in my wallet when I handed it to you. Are you mad?” 

“No. I’m kind of sad, actually. I don’t even remember the first time I kissed you.” 

He leans over, his lips a few feet away from yours. His green eyes are glimmering, a look you can’t place in them. 

“Then do it again.” 

“What?” 

“If you can’t remember, then just do it again.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds, his eyes still staring into yours. He can’t be serious, can he? He does look serious. He’s still sitting across from you, leaning on the couch like he’s waiting for it. Like he’s waiting for you to kiss him.

You lean over, pressing yourself against his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You lean forward, shakily mind you, and press a kiss to his cheek. 

The two of you stay like that, you in his lap and Eren smiling at you, for a few seconds. You can’t stand to look at his eyes, the thought of him looking at you embarrassing you. You dig your face into the crook of his neck, trying to hide your flushed cheeks. 

“All quiet now?” 

“What else do you want me to say? I just kissed your cheek. It’s your move, Eren.” 

You feel his fingers around the side of your face, lifting it up so he can get a good look at you. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, smiling at you. 

“I want to kiss you. I want to kiss your sweet, perfect lips so badly you don’t even understand. But I have to do it the right way, okay? Think you can wait till tomorrow?” 

“What’s tomorrow?” 

“Just wait and see, silly girl.” 

You come to find out that tomorrow is not what you were hoping for. Not in the slightest. 

- 

next part linked here

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[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Ghost, König, and Soap with a gn darling who has Autism

Warnings: yandere behavior and a bit ooc character; I'm a believer for König having ADHD.

A/N: this was a request but someone deactivated which deleted their ask. Happy Autism awareness month! I'm all extremely proud of you <3

I did my research on Autism but I'm not fully aware of the diagnosis(?). If I offended anyone, that's not what I meant, and please send an ask if I did anything incorrectly.

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

It’s likely that he already knew or saw the signs and decided to research it; which, led him to read a fair amount about autism to connect with you.

However, he’s not a physiatrist and he’s not dumb enough to assume, which leads him to keep it private or not bring it up before you do. Mental and physical health is personal. He won’t dig into your diagnosis unless he views it as harmful. However, once you do feel ready to tell him, he will be incredibly supportive and try his best to learn about your triggers.

When it comes to things that overwhelm you, he’s pretty good at tracking those things. Certain textures and noises are written down and taken very seriously by him.

Don’t like the feeling of jeans? He will make sure not to wear them around you or buy you some.

Hate the sound of cardboard or styrofoam? Simon makes sure not to unbox packages near you or let you be in sight of it.

Protective over a certain object? He will make sure to never use it, and if he does need to, he will ask and won’t get upset if you say no. Consent is taken seriously with this man.

Speaking of consent, He’s pretty clear with it — he won’t touch you. He’s pretty adamant about making sure you don’t feel like a nuisance or try to ‘force’ you to do things with him, including touching. It’s your body, it has rules and he’s gonna respect those. Boundaries are there for a reason.

After a while with you, he’s learned your body language and a few things to communicate with you without spoken words. The two of you have secret signals, certain pulled-up fingers or touches mean certain words; do you need company or alone time? Want to have space or be cuddled with him? Is the room too bright or too loud? Whatever you need, he’ll help out as much as he can.

A plus side with Simon is that he speaks pretty clearly; no unnecessary, soft metaphors with him. He means whatever he says, you don’t have to worry about missing something as he speaks directly with anyone, including you. If he does make a mistake or offend you, he’s more willing to acknowledge his mistake and learn from it. Don’t be afraid to approach him, he can handle it.

If you enjoy parallel play, Simon is someone who enjoys it just as much. He doesn’t mind sitting in the same room with you, just enjoying each other’s presence without talking or engaging with each other and doing your own thing. He feels comfort by being in the same room, simply reading a book, watching TV, or doing work as you do the same. You don’t always need conversation to be comfortable. He respects that of you.

Having little to no eye contact, being blunt/or forward, and getting burnt out in public places easily don’t bother him either. Simon understands that eye contact doesn’t equal attention. He’s also a fan of not big places, he’s a homebody and prefers to be in his safe area with you.

Simon is one of those people who prefers when people speak their minds, and say what they mean. Just get straight to the point, don’t hint at things other than expect others to know the meaning. It’s boring — plus, he gets to understand things easier.

While Simon is incredibly good at being supportive and respecting your boundaries, he sometimes doesn’t understand/or grasp the concept of emotional dysregulation or hyper-empathy.

He doesn’t know what to do if you get upset over something ‘small’. But, with learning like a good husband, he will ask you questions based on what will help you: do you need comfort? If so, how would you like it? Words or physical touch? Or just being in the same room so you can feel at least his presence?

He actually enjoys having certain patterns with you. He likes order and sticking to it, so whenever the two of you go grocery shopping or out in public, he will follow right behind you like a guard dog as he shuffles around people in the aisles; making sure nobody touches you or gets in your way; he will help guide you, a hand on your hip as he follows you around.

Gives you his full attention whenever you’re talking about something you are very passionate about — whatever it’s about, he hums along and asks questions to know more. He likes learning new things from you and may share some things of his own! He enjoys seeing you happy about the hobbies you are joyful about.

When the world becomes too loud for you and a bunch is going around you, Simon will pull you somewhere quieter, allowing you to have a moment by yourself to recollect; helping you with breathing patterns, or asking you questions to help you in some way.

Ghost is deadly serious about protecting you. If anyone gives you weird looks or dares to say anything, he will look at them until they get scared and walk away — he’s not afraid to throw fists if they dare approach you.

Stimming? Simon is happy that you’re expressing yourself, as long as you’re not physically hurting yourself, he won’t mind you doing your own thing. He enjoys it rather.

He doesn't mind if you are fiddling with his fingers, repeatedly pulling at your clothing, or tapping your fingers at the dinner table as the two of you eat; rarely do these habits annoy him. He actually encourages these stims.

König:

Extremely supportive and understanding. He will make sure to learn about it, as well as ask you frequent questions on what things can/will trigger you. You’re his spouse, a person he’s admired and loved, he’s willing to do anything to help you, including with your troubles.

König can relate to some of your daily struggles. While he knows that he’s not autistic, he does have ADHD and anxiety which causes some things to clash with yours: hyperfixations, certain textures that make your skin crawl, stimming, and fidgeting, or rejection sensitivity. There’s a whole lot more to go on with, but to an extent, König can understand you while he’s prone to help you.

If you ever feel overwhelmed, even in the place of a restaurant or going shopping, and need to leave, he will utmost support you and never let you apologize.

Shopping can happen another day, he can go down there and finish it later; you are always his top priority. Eating at a restaurant is for fun, and you are not ruining it. Today wasn’t your day, tomorrow is another day that we can try.

Is super respectful, even with touching you and approaching your space. He’s always been a gentle giant, no matter how many years the two of you have been together since kidnapping.

If you don’t want to be touched, he won’t be affected by it and will respect you. Boundaries are always heard, loud and clear with this man.

With König, he’s shy — sometimes his body language can be too stiff and he can’t say the right words without stuttering or making a mess of himself. However, he will try to learn to be more straightforward with you, especially with being needy or wanting kisses.

Stimming around him is completely normal, as he does it. He’s fine with you swinging his arms around when holding hands, singing along to a song that he hasn’t heard before, or continuously pacing in the house. Whatever you feel comfortable doing, please do it; much like Ghost, he encourages your stimming.

They’re simply a part of you, which he adores like the others. As long as you’re not physically hurting yourself, he won’t engage and leave you alone with your own thing.

If you’re hyper-fixated with certain things, whether that’s about the 18th century, bugs and reptiles, or rocks/minerals, König will go out of his way to surprise you with things you enjoy.

He enjoys it whenever you decide to tell him random hobbies or facts throughout the day. He actually looks forward to knowing things because of you! Especially if it’s about animals or different countries, he gets infested and may ask more about it, which leads to date nights on researching different topics with each other!

Patterns and cleanliness can be incredibly important for some people. While König will try his best to be as clean as he can, sometimes he forgets. He’s not the messiest giant. But he’s also not the cleanest perfectionist.

With that being said, König will do specific types of jobs in the home to help you: going as far as folding clothes, vacuuming, cleaning and disinfecting the bathroom, or doing the dishes. Whatever you feel uncomfortable doing, leave it up to him!

However, if the two of you are outside, König is more than protective of you. As much as he can understand you can handle yourself, he will not stand people making fun of you or simply staring at you. König will, and can approach people with a look of pure evil; he’s not gonna stand around and make you feel unsafe or uncomfortable without doing something about it.

König, like any husband, will be incredibly patient with you. If you are shopping, he never hurries you whenever you are looking at the shelves of candles, even if you choose the same one every time.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

He’s pretty nonchalant about the whole thing; he doesn’t really mind. Not to say that he will ignore your needs and issues, but he sees you as you. Your autism doesn’t make him think differently of you, you are still his spouse; he loves you regardless.

With the help of the internet, asking your family/or friends, and yourself, he will learn ways to comfort you and engage things with you without offending or triggering you. Whatever you need, he will get you in a few minutes: fizzy drinks, water, your comfort blanket and plushie, or comfort food.

Any activity you engage in, Soap tries to be with you as you are interested in it. Do you like reading books? He will collect as much as he can and take some time off to enjoy quiet time with you.

Love collecting miniature accessories to decorate your office? Soap will find some rare pieces and give you some.

Love popping bubble wrap? He will collect it as he gets packages in the mail, going as far as to buy you some online. At best, you'll have a few months worth.

Soap is big on encouraging your stimming in front of him and not masking. While he does understand that neurodivergent people mask to fit in society, he wants you to be you. He doesn’t want you to hide away, even if you think it’s ‘dumb’ or ‘bizarre’.

He hates how society has shaped people who are autistic as ‘insufferable’ or ‘emotionless’ because they are not. You are you. You just have extra steps that need to be seen and heard.

While Soap is incredibly flirty and loves joking around, he will try his best to be more straightforward and ask things directly rather than hint at things — he may make some mistakes but he will learn from them, trying his best to tell you things instead of whispering things into your ear.

Communication and body language can be hard. With Soap, he will try to find ways to communicate with you without his body language and sometimes not using his direct words.

With a certain time, he will learn when you’re stressed and immediately help you through anxiety/or a panic attack, sometimes distracting you with random questions and conversations, asking about your hobbies and the reason you like them.

Like the others, he doesn’t mind the stimming but rather enjoys seeing you get all happy and giddy about certain topics. As long as you’re not hurting yourself in any way, he won’t stop you.

Wherever you feel comfortable doing, whether that’s playing with fidget toys, humming, or tracing the lines on the palm of his hands, it won’t bother him at all.

Certain things can be triggering, which Soap will try his best to comfort.

That certain light that’s on? He’ll give you some headphones and his jacket, rubbing your back to help you calm down.

Don’t like sitting down? He’ll try to find you some space so you can stand by yourself, or get you a fidget cube to play with.

People staring at you? Soap will throw them a glare. If that doesn’t work, he may approach them ‘nicely’ about it.

Speaking of glaring, if anyone looks at you for too long, he’s not gonna be nice about it; throwing a bunch of glares before getting up from his seat, and asking the person what their deal is. This goes along the lines if someone approaches you, yet again, won’t go the nice line. He will get in their face and tell them to fuck off before something worse happens.

Being oversensitive isn’t a bad thing, nor is being under-responsiveness. It’s just the way your brain is hooked up and there’s nothing wrong with being you.

Sometimes crying over a movie character that died is a good thing — expressing your guilty pleasure over them, even if they were the villain.

Or maybe not noticing someone is being rude until you have a conversation with Johnny later that day, in which, he talks it out with you; asking if you want suggestions or need support.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day, Johnny is here to support you, even if you snap at him or decide to get so overwhelmed that you need a power nap together.

—

Masterlist || Please reblog or comment instead of liking, it helps a bunch!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

He Fell First (She Fell Harder)

A You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes (I'm Not a Game You Want to Lose) Oneshot

Past!Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The Five times Bitsie couldn't keep her eyes (and thoughts) off Jake and the One time Jake couldn't keep his eyes off Bitsie.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: This fic encompasses the entire timeline of the events happening in You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes. As such, there are mentions of cheating, some cursing, sex, sexual themes, as well as a look into Bitsie's mental state during the rough non-consensual sex mentioned in Love Has No Limits, Part Two of the main story.

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 7202 

A/N: Hi All! So remember when I mentioned I wasn't ready to let Jake and Bitsie go when I ended the main series? Here we are! I'm so happy to share this new installment in their story with you all! It's also my first time writing a 5 plus 1 style fic, so I hope you all love it.

A lot of this story will not make sense if you've not read the main part of the series linked below.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for reading over this oneshot as I was trying to figure out how to write a 5 plus 1 style fic!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

1. Before Bradley Bradshaw

You're not sure why the blond on the other side of the aisle at the Commissary is staring at you. He's beautiful. You know that for a fact because you have eyes, and you're a little weak at the knees at the sight of how he fills out his khaki uniform. He’s probably only staring because you're a mess, with your hair in a messy bun, standing in the commissary wearing a ratty, holey T-shirt and ripped-stained jeans. Moving sucks. It feels like your spine is just stretching out again after hours in the car. Honestly, you’re not sure why you decided to have all your things shipped to Lemoore instead of directly to North Island. Three trips in your car later, and you’ve got everything you need with you, but you now have an avalanche of boxes waiting in your living room to unpack.

Your entire life in boxes is another reason you’d retreated to the commissary. It’s already 6 in the evening, and you want nothing more than to eat something and flop onto the sofa for the night. You’re hoping, at the very least, to pick up a few important groceries, such as milk, bread, eggs, and cheese, to tide you over until you can run to Whole Foods or Wegmans off base. It’s as you’re debating what type of cereal you should buy that the blond first catches your attention. It’s a Wednesday, and there are a surprisingly large number of khaki-clad navy personnel walking up and down the aisles collecting items they need. You’re probably one of the few in casual clothing, but that doesn’t warrant his staring.

It takes far too much effort to turn your attention back to the two cereal boxes in your hands. You can still feel the prickle of his gaze against the back of your neck.

“Y’know, if you’re deciding between Honey Bunches of Oats and Frosted Mini Wheats, I have to tell you that you’re probably thinking too hard.”

You startle, fumbling with the boxes, and stumble back into a broad, firm chest. His laughter is warm and musical as he steadies you with big, warm hands. 

“I’m sorry.” You’re flushed and hoping that you’re not as sweaty and disgusting as you feel with this Adonis of a man so close to you.

“I startled you, huh?” His grin is crooked and wicked, making you grin sheepishly.

“Yeah, you kind of did.” You turn and gesture at the cereal boxes. “So, what makes you think you know the best cereal?”

“Well, I've been eating it my whole life, you know?” His eyes seem to twinkle as he responds.

“So have I. I happen to like Honey Bunches of Oats, you know?”

“All that tells me, gorgeous, is that you haven't put something truly delicious in that pretty little mouth before today.”

You squeak a little because you're not sure you've ever been so close to a man before.

“So, I would suggest Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's sweet and spicy, just like you are.”

You can feel yourself flush, even as he reaches past you, pulls the correct cereal box from the shelf, and places it in your cart.

“See you around, beautiful. I hope you enjoy your time on North Island.”

You’re a flustered mess as you checkout at the counter several moments later. You think about this flirty stranger as you unpack your house and put everything away for the rest of the week and most of the weekend. A part of you isn’t sure how to handle such casual flirting. Could that stranger have been serious? Did he actually want to see you around North Island? Or was that just something he was saying to be kind?

2. Befriending the Daggers

As silly as it seems, you feel like you can taste cinnamon sugar on your tongue when you and your team are introduced to the Dagger Squad in one of the hangars at North Island.

The reason why is simple. The blond who had been haunting your thoughts all weekend is standing at attention in the front row. His cocky smirk makes your knees weak, and you’re sure that his eyes on you make you stutter as you introduce yourself. Throughout that first briefing, you can feel his gaze track across your form as you take notes in your spiky hand. You think you see him smirk when your hand cramps, and you need to shake your fingers out. Still, it catches your attention in a fleeting moment, not keeping it for longer than a few seconds before the briefing grabs you again.

What follows is a day full of briefings, the problem with the laser targeting system setting your mind ticking into overdrive. Looking at the faces of the others on your team, you can see hints of the same curiosity and the same drive to solve this problem. Of course, it would be asking a bit much to be able to view the plane telemetry data and hardware logs and hear the comms recordings so soon after your introduction to the team. Something tells you you’ll have to wait for that. 

“So, you’re joining us for drinks, right?” It’s one of the female lieutenants, Trace, you think her name is, who invites you out. “We go to this little place on the beach called The Hard Deck. Penny’s amazing!”

“You should join us, Bitsie!” His voice sounds just as good in the hangar as at the commissary, if a bit less worn and tired. The nickname is new, but coupled with the grin he’s leveling in your direction, you’re willing to accept it. You smile sweetly at the blond as he walks up behind Lieutenant Trace. 

“I’m Jake, Jake Seresin. How’d you like the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Before you can respond, though, Trace muscles her way back into the conversation. “Stop making her feel awkward, Bagman.”

You smile gently over her shoulder at Jake as Natasha walks you away, talking a mile a minute. The Hard Deck is a surprisingly homey place. It’s warm and brightly lit, smelling of lemon polish and faintly of yeasty beer. It bothers you a little bit how Natasha doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Jake’s been waiting, sweetly, this whole time. You want to thank him for his cereal recommendations. But she’s introducing you to the others, and you're actually having fun.

Before long, you find yourself in a circle of women, and you’re surprised by how nice it feels. Mara, you've known and worked with for years, but you've never been close. Callie and Natasha are like two sides of the same coin. Both of them are whip-smart and take no shit. They’re the perfect counterparts to you and Mara.

 Looking back, you've never really had many female friends. Most of your colleagues are males, males who don't want anything to do with you outside of seeing you every day and inevitably getting shown up by you. So it’s nice standing at one of the bar’s high-top tables while getting to know your new colleagues and hopefully your new friends.

You’re laughing and smiling, vacantly swaying to the song's beat pouring out of the jukebox when the song cuts out. You startle, then hum as you hear the plunking of keys from the piano on the other side of the bar. When you’d walked in, talking to Natasha, you’d thought the piano was just an ornament, something defunct and unplayable. The tune leaves the wooden instrument echoing with age.

Natasha crows with glee at the sound; all the Daggers roused into a festive mood in moments. “C’mon, you two! You’re in for a real treat tonight!”

The raspy voice that starts singing melds beautifully with the old instrument, lustily belting the words of an old song into the air. It seems to be a normal occurrence. As Natasha dances and pulls you into the fray surrounding the piano, you feel relaxed enough to dance along awkwardly in her wake. The other Daggers are arrayed in a half-moon around the back of the piano, facing a man with auburn curls wearing a cheerful printed shirt. You recognize him as one of the Daggers you haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s feeling the jazzy beat of the song as his fingers dance across the yellowed ivory keys. 

When he peers over the rims of his RayBans, his eyes meet yours. In that instance, the world stops because his smile takes your breath away. You’ve never felt this seen, this beautiful. His eyes sparkle, the color of the whiskey in the glass atop the glossy wood of the piano. You’ve never heard this song before, but damn, if you don’t want to learn the lyrics via osmosis just to see him smile at you for singing along. You’re not sure when the song ends, or even that it does, notes echoing in the suddenly quiet expanse of your mind. You swallow when he stands up from the bench and downs the watered-down whiskey, tracking a droplet of the amber liquid as it drips down his neck. You have to remind yourself to be cool, to avoid glancing at his mouth as he swaggers up to you.

“Hi,” His voice is like woodsmoke, dark and gorgeous as it drips into your ears. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw, but you can call me Rooster. I’m one of the Daggers, but if I’d met you before now, I’m not sure I would forget.”

“Bradley…. Bradshaw?” You’re not sure when Natasha, Callie, and Mara moved away, but when you look, you’re all alone in the corner of the bar with just Bradley Bradshaw for company. 

“It’s a family name.” He drags one of his big hands through glistening curls, his bicep bunching alluringly in the frankly silly shirt he’s wearing. “My dad wanted the alliteration. My mom loved him too much to say no. So here I am.”

“It sounds like you love them a lot.” 

His smile falters at your earnest words, a frown dipping his lips down for a few seconds before the smirk rises back into place. “Yeah, I did.”

Your mind churns, because you feel like you’ve pressed unwittingly onto a still un-healed old wound. You feel like you should apologize, like you have to apologize, but he doesn’t let you. The play of emotions on his face is lightning-fast. Before you can think, he’s already leading you to the next conversation topic: you.

“But that’s enough about me. Tell me about you.” 

You flush and let your life story, a highly edited version, drip off your tongue. You’ve never felt like this before. You feel seen and inexplicably gorgeous, faced with a six-foot-tall man whose eyes seem to see right through you. He makes you feel giddy. 

“What’re you doing tucked away in this corner with Bradshaw, Bitsie?” Jake’s voice makes you smile in a completely different way than when Bradley was making you giggle earlier.

“We were just chatting, Jake.”

“Yeah, Bagman.” It surprises you to see the nearly cruel look on Bradley’s kind-looking face. “We were just chatting. Piss off.”

Jake lifts his hands as he backs away, though you don’t miss how he mouths, “Later, pretty girl” to you over Bradley’s shoulder. You don’t miss the frown creasing on his handsome face, either.

“Does he call you Bitsie often?” Bradley sounds surprisingly concerned as he curls one of his big hands around your waist.

“He just started today.” 

Bradley’s face makes you bite your lips. “I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me, Bradley. It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not.” You can hear the rumble of his voice in your chest as he leans closer. “Sweetheart, he’s making fun of you. He doesn’t take you or your job seriously. He took your cute, little introductory speech and turned it into a mockery!”

“He isn’t making fun of me, Bradley.”

“Yeah, he is, sweetheart.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. “Bagman makes fun of everyone and everything. He doesn’t know how to give a compliment seriously if he tries.”

“He’s just going to hurt you, gorgeous.” 

“No, he’s not.” You scoff.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You turn as bidden, expecting to see Jake looking at you with that same sweet look on his face. Instead, what you see is Jake smirking down at a gorgeous willowy blonde with big boobs and sweet, dainty features. 

You, in your frumpy little business casual pants set, look terrible in comparison. When his eyes rise to meet yours, the smile falls a little, but it grows into something smarmy and ingenuine as his eyes meet the man standing behind your shoulder.

“See, sweetheart? The man flirts just to flirt. That’s all he means when he calls you Bitsie. He’ll flirt and then go home with someone else. You’re not his type. But luckily, you’re mine.”

His words make you smile, and you devote the brunt of your attention to Bradley Bradshaw again. You can feel the itch of eyes on you all night long. But when you sneak furtive glances over your shoulders at where Jake is standing with that blonde bimbo draped all over him, his attention always seems to be on her. But you can still feel the itch of his gaze in between your shoulders. 

3. Dating Bradley Bradshaw

After that first night, you keep a close eye on the Daggers, especially how they interact with each other. Jake Seresin always seems to be on the outskirts of the group. Only Coyote goes out of his way to include Jake. Even when he is a central part of the conversation, Hangman seems to prefer biting commands and witty repartee, which doesn’t endear him to his squadron. You hear them all, though, noting the jokes that are so sly and cerebral that they pass the others by. You notice his concern, the tightly wound worry in every muscle as he tries his best to ensure everyone comes back home safe and sound, even in the midst of training.

Something about his attitude still bothers you, though. Or maybe it’s how he always insists on calling you Bitsie instead of your name. He can’t seem to bring himself to give you any respect, either, and it’s starting to piss you off. If you didn’t know differently, you’d assume Jake Seresin didn’t believe you belonged here, working on this team and completing vital work for the Pentagon and the US Navy. So, you dread walking into the pilot’s ready room on base for coffee. You’ve been dragging all day, and you have it on good authority that the pilot’s ready room has the best coffee on base. 

Well, your thermos from home is empty, and you could use the pick-me-up, so you head over there, hoping you can avoid Jake Seresin. All you want is a decent cup of coffee before you’re back to staring at flight diagnostics until your eyes bleed.

The ready room is quiet, barring the ever-present roaring hum of jet engines in flight, and to your satisfaction, there is a pot of coffee waiting for you. You sniff at its contents, a little disappointed because there’s only enough for half a mug once you’ve assured yourself of its relative freshness. You make your mug happily, doctoring it to your satisfaction and taking the time to look around. Bradley and Nat have told you about the days they've spent here between hops while training for the Uranium Mission. The walls are covered in pictures, and you take the time to examine them as you sip your coffee.

When the radio flickers on with an echoey buzz as it connects to the comms of the jets in flight, you startle and whirl around.

“If you’re looking for the Chicken, he’s up in the air.” You have to fight to keep your dismay from showing on your face. You must be at least a little unsuccessful since there is an imperceptible smirk growing on Hangman’s face as he looks at you from one of the sofas. “At least you’ve found the coffee.”

“It’s the best coffee on base, after all.” 

You refill your mug and try your best to ignore Hangman. But when you go to take another sip, you’re met with only the dregs at the bottom of your mug. There’s silence between you as you scramble into the cupboards, looking for the fresh coffee. When you measure the beans into the grinder and fire the grinder up, you deliberately avoid looking for the aviator lying supine on the sofa. You find a modicum of your composure as you measure the grinds into a new filter and fill the carafe of the coffee maker with fresh water. You hit the buttons decisively and hum appreciatively as the scent of fresh bitter coffee wafts from the pot. From the radio set, you can hear Phoenix and Bob on the comms, mostly Bob, as he clues his pilot onto unseen perils in the sky. On occasion, you can hear Phoenix’s measured tone and Bradley’s rough rasp, too.

“So, Bitsie, how do you take your coffee?”

 You startle, sending crystals of sugar skittering across the countertop as Hangman’s voice gets even closer to you than it was before. You’re always impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew, so you always add the creamer and sugar to the bottom of your mug before pouring in the coffee. Hangman chuckles when he sees the sugar dripping lazily out of the torn open packet in a glittering stream. 

“Sugar, huh?” He pushes you away and begins to wipe the sticky substance away but stops once he sees the bottom of your mug. “Fuck, Bitsie, do you pour any coffee into your mug at all?”

“Oh, trust me,” you snap, on the defensive at the sound of his voice so close to you, “I desperately need the caffeine to put up with you, after all.”

Something about the joking look on his face fades away at your tone, though the smile doesn’t. 

“I drink my coffee black, you know?” He chuckles, leaning against the counter as he holds your mug hostage on the other side of him. “I like my coffee hot and full-bodied, a little bitter, but oh, so smooth on my tongue.”

He takes two measured steps into your space. With how close he is, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne and the bitter tang of jet fuel. “Coincidentally, I like my women like that too.”

“And how do they like you?” One of his eyebrows rises at your statement. “Your women, Bagman. How do they like you?”

“Oh, honey.” He grins as he fills the mug up and turns around. “I promise they don’t have any complaints.”

He sips insolently out of your mug, tongue lapping at the traces of coffee left on the spoon he used to stir the steaming beverage before handing the mug filled with hot liquid back to you. Your mind stutters as Jake Seresin stares you down like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “Your coffee isn’t half bad either, Bitsie.” You can feel the warmth of his touch where his fingers brush against yours. “A little sweet, but it figures when the drinker is as sweet as you are.”

When you sip from the mug with your face on fire, it tastes even better than when you make it for yourself. You slip out of the room when a crackle of feedback attracts Jake’s attention. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re sitting in your chair and staring at the after-action reports of the Uranium Mission that you’re placing your mouth exactly where his was in an indirect kiss. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you find your mind tracking to green eyes and a sweet smile bared genuinely in your direction. Your brain feels like a stuck record, trapped futilely in the crosshairs of his gaze from when he’d been teasing you about your coffee preferences.

Worse than the bonfire lighting up in your stomach, there’s the guilt swarming in your belly after what happened. What happened with Jake in the ready room could classify as cheating, right? You’re not exactly sure because you’re not the most experienced. You also don’t want to tell Bradley because what if you have been unfaithful to him? You can’t confide in Natasha either, because she’s Bradley’s best friend. 

Suddenly, your coffee goes from tasting like god’s ichor to tasting like ash on your tongue. Fucking Jake Seresin. Why did he have to go out of his way to make your life miserable?

4. A North Island Night Out

The more time you spent around Bradley Bradshaw, the more it felt like you could fall in love. Bradley’s sweet and kind, and he never once makes you feel bad about your career choice. Sometimes, in those long afternoons stuffed inside a hangar with ceiling fans barely pushing at stagnant air, you wish you could say the same about Jake Seresin. The worst part is how he has reasons to be as cocky and arrogant as he is. He flies his jet like a man possessed, or maybe like a man with nothing to lose. Some of you can’t help but wonder what you would have faced if you'd been going out with Jake instead of Bradley. You're not sure you would have been enough to change his ways.

Bradley, on the other hand? He's like your knight in shining armor. He never minds your rambling or how you babble when you get sucked into a conversation. In fact, you'd argue that Bradley Bradshaw is the first person who has ever taken you seriously. He makes you feel superhuman, like there is never any problem you can't solve. His smile still has butterflies taking flight in thick, cloying swarms in your stomach. He makes you laugh, and god when he kisses you? You feel radiant, like one word will have you taking off faster than an F-18.

A part of you can’t believe him, even now. He hadn't laughed when you'd told him how inexperienced you were, in truth, what you wanted him to give you for your first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He'd groaned into your ear, “Just let me make you feel good, on your terms, as fast or slow as you want me to be.”

You know what he's offering. As fast or slow as you want me to be is his way of telling you to take your time. But you're sure you will explode if you have to make out with Bradley Bradshaw again while rubbing a wet patch into the thigh of his jeans, while his fingers massage over your nipples and his tongue tangles languidly with yours. 

You’ve had sex with him before, the sweet, gentle missionary kind. In fact, you’d argue that it was the perfect way to lose your virginity. But you can’t help but wonder if there isn’t more to sex with a man you love than a few slow moments in bed. You’re not even sure you orgasmed that night, or at least, it never felt like how you’ve made yourself climax. But ever since then, he’s kept you at arm's length. Sex was supposed to be the last step before all of the walls came down between the two of you. Maybe you can finally get Bradley to give you what you want, then? If only this date weren’t starting at The Hard Deck, though if you think back, most of yours do. It’s not like the Hard Deck isn’t a nice bar - it is. But The Hard Deck isn’t the most romantic of venues. 

When you drive up to the Hard Deck in your little car at promptly six in the evening, you’re dressed to the nines, wearing a cute little sundress with a flared skirt and fitted bodice. It pushes your tits up and is nearly completely backless. You’re not wearing much under the dress, just a little lace-edged thong and strappy heels elevating you a few inches. Stepping through the door, it seems like the entire bar falls silent. For several long moments, all you can hear is the tapping of your heels against the floor. People seem to float out of your way as you greet Penny, grabbing your drink from her, a soda in a glass bottle dripping condensation, and walk towards the pool tables in the back of the bar.

Heads turn as you walk past, and you can feel a smug smile curl your lips. On any other night, the arrangement of the Daggers around the pool table would have been normal. You’d be joining them by now, taking your place next to Bradley to hang besottedly on his every word. You’d be the only one not in uniform.

 Tonight, there isn’t a uniform in sight. Tonight, you’re dressed to impress. But you’re not dressed to impress the other Daggers, only Bradley. You hope your sexy little dress will be enough to have the romantic moment you’ve been longing for, finally. All your boyfriend needs to do is turn around and see you. 

Nat and Bob confer in hushed tones as Bradley racks up against the pool table with the cue in his hand. He’s wearing those jeans that you adore, the pair that fits like a glove and with fabric so worn that it’s soft against your hands. Hangman and Coyote are on the other side of the pool table, identical frowns on their faces as they strategize over the configuration of the balls on the worn felt emblazoned with jets.

But it’s Hangman who sees you first with a clattering of his cue as it impacts the floor. His eyes bug out, mouth parting as his eyes rake over you from head to toe. His reaction causes silence to ripple outwards with him at its epicenter. Dagger after Dagger pauses to stare at you. It’s a gratifying feeling. Nat and Callie wink at you, and Nat carefully prods a pink-cheeked Bob into resuming their conversation. The only person arrayed around the pool tables who doesn’t seem to know you’re there is the man you dressed up for. Jake is nearly mute as you clack forward, sipping on your drink greedily because something about his gaze has you feeling hot and flushed. The only time he backs off is when Bradley seems to realize you’re right there.

“Fuck, baby.” Your boyfriend groans in your ears. His voice makes your skin flare hot, and a desperate ache starts between your legs. “Look at you all pretty and gorgeous for me. Let me finish this last round, and then I’m all yours.”

One round turns to two, and then three, and before long, you’re left all alone in a corner of the bar while the Daggers, including Bradley, party like you don’t exist. All of that effort to make it a romantic night, and you’re sitting here like you don’t exist. If you have to watch another badge bunny drape herself all over your boyfriend, you are going to scream or do something drastic. Maybe making out with Jake will get his attention.

“It’s a shame, you know?” You nearly topple off of your stool at the words emanating from next to you. “You look so pretty, Bitsie, and Bradshaw can’t even open his eyes to see his girl waiting for him.”

Hangman sounds so sure of you, so sure that you’re better than Bradley Bradshaw deserves.

“He just wanted to grab another drink.”

“That was three hours ago, Bits.” When Jake chuckles, you can feel your hackles raise. “Didn’t you have dinner reservations or something like that?”

Before you can respond, because yeah, you did, Bradley’s standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bagman?” Bradley is slurring his words, listing from side to side as he stares the other man down.

“She’s mine, Bagman. Don’t you forget it!”

“If she’s yours, why are you ignoring her and walking around with badge bunnies draped all over ya?”

You can tell by how red Bradley’s face gets that he is one more word from launching himself at Jake. You’re unsure what prompts you to step in, but you do, sliding your hand up to the sweaty curls at the base of your boyfriend’s neck and whispering into his ear. You breathe your need, your want for him, into his ears. You have to ignore the scent of alcohol and sweat wafting sour from his skin, but you succeed in grabbing his attention. 

But a part of you wishes your seductive ploy hadn’t.

You got your wish; your need to have sex with your boyfriend granted. But it’s not anything like you expected it to be. Bradley left bruises on your skin and bruises on your heart. He’d been rough with his touch and his words. But more than that, you can’t help but wonder if this would have happened with Jake. If he’d make you feel better than Bradley ever could. Isn’t sex supposed to feel good? 

Faced with Bradley’s fumbling, you’d been anything but wet between your legs. You’d only started to get there when you thought, selfishly, of Jake. There was no foreplay, no making sure you’re alright. No kissing, no touching. There were no hallmarks of any of the care and gentleness Bradley usually treats you with. The whole experience has you feeling worse than you did in the car as he called you a slut for talking to a colleague and friend. Slut. It’s a word he’d used often with you in bed that night, too. A word that makes you feel guilty, dirty, and disgusting all at once. 

What does it say about you that you had to think of a colleague and friend to get wet instead of your boyfriend?

Whether you realize it or not, that’s the first crack in the shaky, perhaps already crumbling, foundations of your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw.

5. After Bradley Bradshaw

You have work to do; you know you do. But it’s been under a day since you told Jake Seresin how your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw imploded easier than if it had been bombed. Realizing Nat had known, known what he did and condoned the betrayal, his cheating, is another stab to the back that you weren’t expecting. You can't believe how Bradley could harbor less remorse and guilt over having sex with Britney than you did over some harmless, practically meaningless flirting.

What happened to ‘sisters before misters’ and all sentiments to that effect? You’re thankful, truly thankful, that Jake didn’t know and that Mickey and Mara were unaware as well. Being so far away from North Island has given you a sense of clarity you never thought you were missing. 

You’d be lying if you said Jake Seresin doesn’t have something to do with your newfound clarity, too. 

One night, a bushel-load of tears and an unburdening of your heart, and he’s already raised himself in your esteems. It’s in how he’d listened to you, which has your thoughts spinning. Back when your relationship with Bradley was still rock solid, you'd thought Bradley was the only man who could make you feel like the most important person in the world. But you didn't realize how often Bradley’s eyes would glaze over when you got excited. You’re not sure you’ve ever been able actually to talk to your ex. 

Jake let you cry, cry like you’d lost your reason for living. He’d held you while your suppressed grief had unleashed. He’d heard you spill your heart out to him and release all of your pain into the squalling storm winds. Then there was the rage in his face, in his voice, the rage he’d held tightly coiled in the corded muscles of his arm, in the jut of his proud jaw, when he found out Bradley had broken you, dominated your spirit, for a bet. 

You’re not sure why he’s been so nice. He has nothing to gain by being kind to you. He didn’t when he wanted to get you off deck in the middle of the storm last night. Though uncharitably, you’re sure he’d likely wanted you off deck so he could get off deck himself. He didn’t have to make you a cup of coffee or raid his own special stash of granola bars, either. But more than anything, you’d love to know why he let you cry snot and tears all over his uniform when it was well past lights out. You keep thinking back to how it felt to be in his arms, how good it felt.

Unbidden, you pull out the paper Jake had handed you while you were eating lunch in the commissary with Mara and Mickey. It’s nothing special, just a note written in ballpoint pen on run-of-the-mill lined notebook paper. The paper is silky smooth against the pads of your fingers, the edges ragged like he’d ripped the page out of a notebook he had lying around. You can feel the indentations the pen had left on the other side of the page. You can see how the letters slur across the page as he’d written, the ink smudging imperceptibly as he wrote hastily. They’re just lyrics transcribed on the page, and they shouldn’t be thought-provoking. 

It’s from a song you’ve heard a thousand times before, played ad nauseam on the radio with a catchy tune getting stuck in your head. More than the song lyrics, it’s the thought behind those lyrics. Honestly, you’re not sure how he got them for you. He called his sister in the middle of the night when he likely had to get special permission to do so just so he could get some stupid lyrics for you.

You can still see the twinkle in his eyes as he blushed crimson. He’d seemed proud, proud he was the reason for your laughter, proud that he’d pulled the wool from your eyes and showed you how ill Bradley had actually treated you. That look on his face made you feel like levitating. 

You can’t deny it anymore. Bradley Bradshaw may have made butterflies swarm in your stomach, but Jake Seresin made you feel like lightning arcing through the air. He makes you feel wild and free.

+1. The Day Easton is Born

A part of you feels like you should be angry that it took only four years before you stopped being the sole item of your husband’s attention. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the same way that Jake did, especially because the cute little thing that’s caught his attention has caught yours, too. 

He’s about four hours old with squishy cheeks, a red face, and a voice that would make his daddy proud. You’re sure that his voice is just like his dad’s, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard Jake’s voice ever hit the octaves this adorable sweetheart hits. It hurts a little bit that you’ve been ordered not to move, too, because everything in you is itching to pick your baby up and hold him in your arms. But Jake’s on baby duty at the moment. If it’s a poopy diaper, you’re more than ready to let him take that burden on.

You tilt the bed up until you’re reclining and tip your head gently to the side until you see the heart rate monitor reassuringly blinking your vital signs at you. When you turn your head to the other side, Jake's standing over the small changing table in your room, leaning down and looking into it. His face looks gentler than you've ever seen it, soft, like a man stripped bare to his basest parts. He has no walls up, no fears, just wonder as he stares down at the little bed. Well, maybe he’s looking a little less awestruck and a little more disgusted because your newborn son does, indeed, have a soiled diaper.

He’s not wearing a shirt. This fact doesn't surprise you because Jake wanders around your house half-naked all the time. At the same time, you’re both in a hospital, and it’s at least 10 degrees colder than it should be. You’re wrapped up in a soft pajama set and wearing a thick cardigan, but you’re still cold. When Jake hefts the small wriggling body of your son into his arms and settles him against his chest, now clean, your heart swells. The baby coos, a little snuffling exhale of breath that squeaks a little as he settles into Jake’s arms. Jake doesn’t seem to realize that you’re awake, either.

“Awww, hey, Buddy.” His voice is a tender rumble, big hands cradling precious cargo with the same surety he flies his jet. “Let’s not wake up Mama, huh? She’s so tired.”

“You took us by surprise, our sweet boy. We weren’t expecting you to show up in the middle of a Longhorns game, for sure. I will say that your arrival was a little more exciting than a game-winning touchdown. I wonder if your Uncle Javy will let Daddy watch the game on his DVR when you’re home? In any case, I do not look forward to replacing my Longhorns rug. You had to pick that rug to make your appearance on, didn’t you? Say, East, what’s the likelihood that your Mama would let me keep it if I wash it off?”

You have to stifle your snickers because the baby chirps and half burps in response. You can vaguely see the dark blue of the baby’s eyes as he blinks in Jake’s firm hold. East’s lips purse and part, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be in need again. But you’re so in love, and hearing Jake talk to your son might be your newest favorite thing.

“Yeah, I had that feeling. You’ll learn sooner or later that your Mama’s words are law. She’s going to be the disciplinarian between the two of us, for sure. You’re already wrapped around my fingers. I’m not sure I could tell you no for anything.”

He sighs, sounding choked up as he trails a finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “I’ve got so much I want to teach you. How to smile and utilize those perfect Seresin dimples. How to talk your way out of any problem you face. How to make your Mama smile (and maybe cry) every Mother’s Day as we show her how amazing she is.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of the baby’s head and rocks slightly back and forth on his heels, an action that doesn’t soothe your son even a little. East is squalling already, and you have a feeling he will ratchet up a bit higher in volume if he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Hey, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you get Jake’s attention.

“Morning, Bitsie-baby.” His smile is wide as he stares down at you.

“There’s no way it’s morning, Jake.” He shrugs and rocks back and forth a little more as the baby objects a little louder with each sway. “And gimme my son.”

Jake smirked as he transferred the baby, eyes softening as you situated East against your chest, snickering as the baby latched hungrily onto your breast for his midnight snack. 

“So he’s your son when you want him, but he’s mine when he’s got a nasty diaper?”

“Sounds about right, Seresin.”

“Well, he’s a Seresin, alright.” Jake snickers when you swat at his abs. “Made right for your tits, and aren’t they a pretty sight.”

“Not in front of the baby, Jacob.”

“Well, I dunno when I’m going to see them again one on one!”

“Try me when East’s two years old. Because I’m going to need that long to recover from having your big-headed child.” Your voice is as dry as the Sahara Desert as you laugh at your husband.

“Fair enough.” He tucks a wild strand of hair behind your ear and settles on the edge of the hospital bed. You snuggle into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“I’ll take beautiful over the complete mess I probably am.”

“You look gorgeous, Bitsie!”

You snort. “Jake, I haven’t showered in 48 hours, I was in labor for most of it, and I just had a baby. So what about me looks beautiful to you at this moment?”

“Everything.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve given me the best things in my life. You gave me your heart and a second chance with you. You gave me a family in you and our little Easton. You’ve changed my life.”

“If I didn’t find you gorgeous because of all of our relationship, then I’d definitely argue it is the memory of the lingerie you were wearing under your dress at last year's Navy Gala.”

“I think that lingerie was pretty life-changing for both of us, Cowboy.” You cradle Easton close and gesture for one of the many burp cloths arrayed on the table on Jake’s other side. “I’m about 90% sure that was the night we made East.” You pat the baby’s bottom gently, grimacing when he lets loose a surprisingly loud belch before cooing angelically. “Well, you certainly burp like your dad, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Jake tugs the baby out of your arms, swaying side to side as the baby’s eyes droop closed. He snuggles East close before laying him into the crib. You watch approvingly as he pulls the crib closer, the same worries about your newborn son in his mind as yours. “I’ll have you know, kiddo, that your mama loves my burps.”

“Don’t lie to our son. He’s not even a day old, Seresin, and you’re already lying to him!”

“Am I lying if I’m telling him the truth? His mama does love me.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he settles back into the hospital bed next to you.

“Yeah, she does.” You kiss his torso, nuzzling in close as he holds you close.

“I love you so much, Jake. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I’m not likely to stop now. Having this,” you gesture to the hospital room at large, “is better than my best dreams. Though, I would prefer it if you could convince your mom and sister to let us have some time with East alone before they descend on us.”

“You got it, beautiful.” He runs his hands gently up and down your back. God, you're not sure you can give him up, not anymore. Right now, you're pretty sure that if Jake gets out of the hospital bed, you'll freeze solid.

“You were always my dream, Bitsie baby. Forever and always.” You barely hear the words, sleep pulling you under riptide-fast. But a part of you knows Jake doesn't mind. It's always been a not-so-secret fantasy of his, having his family at arm's reach. 

Honestly, you could get used to it too. Your Jake Seresin pillow is the best of the best, after all.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥𓂃𓏧Fuck The Girls

𖦹Warnings: Cheater!Ichigo x Fem!Reader, Mentions of bullying, Brief Spit Play, Pet Names (ex. Baby, Honey), Switch!Ichigo, Switch!Reader, Modern College!AU, P in V Sex, Sex Videos are made consensually

𖦹Word Count: 2.4K I regret nothing

🫧: Sorry for the late post🥲I had to start everything over. 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

ᐕSummary: In your defense the storm came earlier than expected and your bully’s boyfriend was too hot to not fuck..

You’re an adult. Everything you do has consequences. That means hitting them will get you put behind bars. They aren’t worth the risk. You told yourself to sooth the seething anger. Tears of pure fury ran down your cheeks as your fingers massaged your temples. Coffee stained your white shirt and jeans. The hot drink had seeped through the rips leaving first degree burns on your thighs. You composed yourself enough to walk out the local cafes bathroom with your head held high. Leaving all signs of weakness in the stall.

You walked back to your table attempting to ignore the four sorry excuses of humans behind you, plus the bystander. College is better than high school my fucking ass. Just professors that overwork me and more mean bitches to put up with.

“Why do you always antagonize people?” the man with them asked severely unamused, “go apologize.”

“What? I literally didn’t do anything,” the tall brunette, his girlfriend, smiled to stop a laugh, “you should be saying that to Angie I wouldn’t have spilled my drink if she didn’t bump into me.”

“Not true,” the dark skinned woman grinned, “I just happened to trip over my own two feet.”

The four burst out in laughter.

“Go. Apologize. Now.” He said through gritted teeth.

“For what? We didn’t do it on purpose,” she flipped her long hair over a shoulder.

You closed your MacBook turning it sideways so the coffee could drain before you struck it back in your tote bag. Anger was starting to resurface and the urge to strangle every last one of them swelled. He nearly leapt from his seat, “hey! Wait a minute-” You raised a single finger as you walked out that left him in a stunned silence.

ෆ

“Who messed with the ice queen today?”

“Remember the girl I told you got caught fucking the Dean?”

He hummed.

“Her sister Angie, Lina the short haired girl, the one that’s more like their pet, that bitch Regina and her boyfriend.” You said giving him a quick rundown.

“I don’t understand..just transfer or leave if they keep picking on you why stay?” your best friend who was currently studying across the country said.

A white towel wrapped around your head and a hot pink one on your body, “and let them win? Let them think they got the better of me and be another girl they got to leave? You must’ve forgot who I am, and they got me all the way fucked up if they think they can bully me into leaving. I chose to come here and that’s where I’ll remain for my last two years.”

His head fell back, “prideful ass. It’s only two years transfer your credits and come study with me.”

“You're right,” you removed your head towel, “it’s only two more years..so I’ll finish here.”

You flashed a smile and he rolled his eyes. I applaud you for your efforts but I’m not leaving.

“Stubborn as a mule, I’d expect nothing less. What are you gonna do about your laptop?”

You sighed and squeezed the towel into your wet hair, “well luckily for me I sat at the table that has the security camera pointed directly at it anddd if all goes well they’ll hand over the footage I’ll ask her to replace the Mac and if she says no I’ll take her to court.”

“And if they don’t have it?” he switched out of his shirt and into his work uniform.

“…then I’ll resort to old habits.”

“I thought you left beating people up in the past.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures…she’ll pay one way or another.”

“Good god,” he exhaled heavily, “text me when you get home so I know you didn’t kill anyone please”

“Eh we’ll see.”

ෆ

The bell atop the door chimed as you stepped in. Few patrons sat sipping and chatting to each other. Made sense being that the place closed in a little under an hour. Aiming for the cashier you asked for the manager and explained the situation. You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t realize you held as he went to the back. That bell chimed again and you glared at the man who entered. Ichigo.

“____? That’s your name right?” Ichigo stood next to you. So casually as if two friends were just meeting up. Your only reply was an eye roll. “I’m sorry for what ‘Gina did, I'll replace your shirt and pants.” He dug in his pocket searching for his wallet, “I’m Ichi-”

“kurosaki I know. We're in the same major class and I don’t want your money or that half ass apology especially if it’s on behalf of her.” malice laced your words.

“I feel bad for what she-”

“If you came here to,” you furrowed your brows, “how the hell did you know I was gonna be here?”

“I’m sorry it seems that camera hasn’t been working for a while. I can check the others if you like.” It was more of a question than a statement.

You faced your classmate, “no need. You can tell your girlfriend she can either replace my property or she’s gonna be in for a painful awakening.” You smirked already out the door before he could speak.

“____,” he trailed behind you like an abandoned puppy, “I’m not your enemy okay. For fucksake ____.” His hands gently grabbed your waist, guiding you to the wall of your apartment building. Arms on either side of your shoulders. Goodness he was a sight to behold. He wasn’t your usual type but with a voice that husky and low many exceptions could be made. Too many.

“Listen to me..please,” he huffed, “I’m sorry my rude clumsy girlfriend damaged your shit. Okay, I really am, and I’ll make her apologize too if it’s the last thing I do but let me replace the laptop.”

“Rude? Clumsy? Your girlfriend..that bitch is a fucking bully. Nothing but a pretty face with a nasty spirit.” you shoved him but he didn’t move, “how could you even be interested in someone like that? Don’t you want better for yourself?” You looked into those amber eyes and your blood all but bubbled. Fierceness and honesty scorched through him. A strong wind whipped across your heated skin and then it came. A loud crack of thunder accompanied with a strike of lightning. Shit. The hurricane. How could you forget about the weather warning.

You grabbed his arm dragging him into your high rise apartment. Better safe than sorry. He looked out the window watching the rain slice in every direction. “Barely made it,” your shoulders dropped. He approached you forcing his credit card in your hand. “I’m not taking your money,” you snarled, eyes falling from his..then lowered to those enchanting lips. A second too long did you let your gaze linger. A second was all he needed to notice. To follow your line of sight.

“Is it something else you..something else I can offer?” Ichigo raised a brow, a mild blush on his cheeks.

You looked his body up and down as spite pricked at your emotions and thoughts of what he looks like under you rippled through your mind. Your face was undoubtedly straight, easily mistaken to be uninterested. He took a step back for every inch you moved forward until his legs hit the couch and he sat, “Regina’s not gonna appreciate this.” You straddled his hips and he welcomed you with open arms and a cock that throbbed between your clothed bodies.

“Regina’s not here,” his hands trailed under your shirt massaging your breast. Ichigo nearly tore your top to shreds trying to remove it. Unclamping your bra in the process. His face settled between your tits before taking a hard nipple in his mouth. Tongue graciously sucking and licking the buds.

“So eager to fuck a woman who isn’t your partner,” your fingers gripped his soft locks as you released a breathless sigh at the sensation.

He pulled back, letting go of your bud with a pop sound, “I am when she brings me to her crib and throws herself at me.” His fingers dug into the sides of your ass grinding your cunt on him. A soft groan left the both of you and you kissed him. Sloppy, lustful and full of so much spite. Slick collected in your panties and partially your pajama pants. Eyes shifted down his body landing on what lay next to him. Fell out his pocket and right into the wrong hands. “Fuck I needa feel that pretty pussy on me” he sucked your bottom lip allowing his teeth to graze over it before releasing. Hands fumbled at the button on his pants. Just as needy, you removed your pajamas, sliding your panties to the side.

Fuck,” he pulled your hips down bottoming out inside of you forcing a mix of a moan and a yelp, “so tight.”

“Not so fucking rough,” your cunt fluttered around him and he stilled. Watching. Impatiently waiting for those words. A sign. His hands slid up your waist rubbing your breast more gently and attentively than any other guy you’ve been with. Something close to infatuation filled his gorgeous features.

“God your so fuckin pretty,” he whispered, “can I move?”

You nod. He lifted you up much slower this time. Carefully as if you were made of glass. Dropping you down on his cock that was already pumping precum. His raw length sent shivers down your body from the size alone. The stutter and hesitation in his hips revealed his fear of hurting you. Breaking you in half on his dick.

“Ichigo,” you demanded, “don’t make me regret bringing you here.” Your pussy clenched as tight as it could around him and his back straightened. Nails making indents in your ass. It took every fucking bone in his body not to lose control and pump into you until his cock was soft again. “Fuck me like you mean it.” You nipped at his cheek.

Confidence had him hitting every golden spot he could down there. Only being affirmed by the sweet noises you made. His favorite fucking sound that he could listen to for hours. Wanted to listen to for hours. You left kisses in a path down his neck glaring at his phone. Matching his rhythm you grinded into his thrust sending his head back, eyes shut. You snaked your hand to his chin and twisted it opposite to yours. Baring the exposed sensitive skin on his throat you risked it.

Snatching his phone you slid your tongue on his soft flesh. Not daring to slow down in the slightest or release your grip. “r’fuckin me so good honey. Feel amazing inside me,” you moan in his ear not removing your eyes. He grunts to pussy whipped to scramble the words together. No lock. You pondered if he was bold or just stupid. You wince at the half finished message on screen.

Bit of a dickhead move to dump a girl over text even if she was a piece of shit human

You open the camera staying in the messages with Regina and move to the video option. Ichigo’s head falls back as you take a handful of his silky hair..and press record. Arm outstretched so she can see that you're riding him and he’s under your complete control. Exaggerated moans fall from your throat and he responds with his own to match

“Fuck. So wet.” Is all he managed bringing a big pale hand down on your ass more than once. Your back arches and your chest presses into his.

“Love this pussy? I fuck better than your bitch don’t I?” You made sure to say loud enough for the mic to pick up.

“Fuck yes,” he mumbles, “wanna put a baby in you.” You drop down and on his cock and still yourself. Releasing a guttural moan.

“Open your mouth and I’ll let you fuck me from the back.” Hand still tangled in his hair, he obeys. You lean over spitting on his tongue and shoved yours in his mouth after it. He tasted as good as he felt. Your orgasm wasn’t too far behind. “Gonna nut in me?”

“Yes,” he chanted, “love this pussy, god I love you.” He didn’t. It was the lust speaking for him. That you couldn’t deny. Point taken, you ended the video and made sure it was delivered alongside the half finished breakup text.

“Ohhh shit,” you both said, for two different reasons. You were unfolding in each other's arms. Yes. But that video. It was too late to see the other contact icons at the top.

A group chat. This asshole was gonna dump her in a group chat. Not that I have any room to talk. His problem to deal with when I kick him out.

The apple logo flashed before the device shut down. You let go of his hair and his thrust became uncontrollable. Smashing every sweet spot he could find until he couldn’t hold back anymore. His cum coated your walls and in the blink of an eye he had you face down. Ass in the air on full display. His thumb rubbed against your hole pushing deeper and he slid two fingers from his other hand in your cunt. Not caring his cum gushed out with every pump. You winced hard as you clawed at the couch. Allowing your release to overcome you. “Good baby get it all out.” His voice an unfamiliar gentle sound.

His cock head patted your core before he relentlessly drilled into you. Mildly painful from the sudden penetration but overwhelming pleasure coursed through you. Waves of overstimulation washed over your body. The coin was flipped. He held the control over you. One of ichigo’s hands held onto the fat in your ass and the other rubbed overbearing circles on your clit. “Kurosaki,” you whined. Eyes in the back of your head.

“What is it baby? Wanna make another video?” He chuckled at the brief halt in your moans. He placed one dirty sneaker on your ebony cushion. Following his second orgasm. Increasing his pace he pummeled your poor pretty pussy until more of his semen was overflowing. He pulled out collapsing on the couch, lifting you in his arms.

“How did you know?” Embarrassment barreled it’s way to your chest and face. Avoiding looking in his direction.

“Peripheral vision is a thing baby.”

Not your baby.

“Are you not mad?” You fingered his necklace.

He shook his head, “I knew it wasn’t gonna last to begin with but…we’re not talking about that. I could have stopped you at any time but honestly I wanna see her react..their reaction just as much as you do.”

You smirked.

Asshole.

[improbable-implosions]

This particular mend turned out to be MUCH more complex, involved, and fussy than I really ever expected it to be at the outset. That said, after all the work where I focused on taking my time to get things just so, I found out that I'm quite capable of handling larger projects like this!

First up, here, before starting, my partner Razz and I sat down, and went through our clothes with a careful eye. More and more of her pants in particular were in need of little fixes here and there, and I figured rather than going about it all piecemeal and in no particular order, not accomplishing the fixing of clothes she needs, we put them together into an order of "most wanted fixes" to "least pressing fixes".

Once I had all that info, I settled in with a measuring tape, and got to identifying all the mends that needed to happen. For every piece that was more than, say, a few inches of rip, or of a shape that standard embroidery wouldn't cut it for a fix, I cut out a piece of patch fabric, with the intention of making use of these patches by doing sashiko mends.

Step 1: pin the hem of the patch down, initially hoping to run it through the sewing machine to have a nice hem! Sure, it was kinda fussy doing the quarter inch hems, since I hadn't really done this before, but it's not _too_ bad in hindsight!

Step 2: Realize that the sewing machine foot you have on hand got mixed up with a family member's in a move, and begrudgingly realize you have to re-pin the hemmed patch directly to the jeans being mended. Grumble, grumble! Oh well, at least this light blue thread is going to be really cute on the jeans, so there's that.

Step 3: stitch down the patch to the fabric, blissfully unaware that this big of a patch which interacts with the main seams four times like this is going to be a huge pain later!

Step 4: with some clever use of tape and bumping the laptop brightness, make a tracing of the segaihana pattern onto the dissolvable backing. (I did realize later, mind you, that I could have just used something small and circular to draw this manually, but the tracing worked out just fine, so we take those!)

Step 5: get stitching, following the pattern on the backing! I get about this far before two things happen: first off, the sewing machine foot returned from family-home purgatory, and secondly, I realize that pushing this needle over and over with my bare hands is REALLY wearing out not only the muscles in my hands, but also thoroughly frustrating my skin, in the process.

So, as a little test of the sewing machine, I made this little palm thimble! the loop of thread on the left there loops around my middle finger, and then the denim takes the brunt of pushing the needle, instead of my poor fingies!

So, over the course of a few days, with a LOT of help from the palm thimble (some pieces even getting done on stream, go check out the vods: https://youtu.be/oeytUetT2Z0 and https://youtu.be/u6k-Yr4Vjn0) we get the first (major) panel done! Might not be super visible in these shots, but there is in fact a second piece to be stitched here!

So, after yet more tracing (which took a good bit more fuss, since I had to align it with the previous panel!) we find ourselves at step 6: do the second batch of stitching! Overall, I actually really enjoyed the way this piece came together, the segaihana pattern is super pretty to look at. Plus, I learned a LOT in doing this one, the big thing being, if you're going to have trouble on both sides of a thigh of a pair of jeans, even if the damage is spread evenly on either side, break the patches up along the main seam. Sewing through the many layers of that denim is particularly taxing, especially when I'm struggling to nail the positioning of the stitches to carry on a nice pattern!

[ashwhowrites]

If you are taking angst prompts still maybe a mix of 3 and 5 with Steve? Maybe Steve has been flirting with the reader and there are definitely feelings there between them but another pretty face catches his attention and suddenly the flirting with this new pretty face?

Can end angsty or fluffy though! Dealers choice

I will gladly write this for you! My plan is to write it and see which ending flows to me better. I hope you like it! If it is not what you wanted, please let me know I will rewrite it for you

Update- the ending is sad! More of a fluff to angst

It sucks. Because I want to hate you, but I can’t.”

“You made me think I actually mattered.”

Y/N and Steve have been friends ever since Robin introduced them. They just clicked and got along well. But lately, her feelings for Steve have taken a turn into a less friendly destination. His eyes were suddenly more beautiful than anything. And his smile just seemed brighter. And his hair looks much softer. And she has a feeling he feels the same. For around two weeks, they have been flirting non-stop at work and at group hangouts. He'd compliment how she looked every day, never failing to make her blush. She wasn't the most confident, but she did try to make sure her attraction to him was known. From soft touches on his arm when he made her laugh. A smile that always seemed bigger when he was around. Plus, Robin called them out for "eye-fucking during work hours." That comment turned them both red, and they stammered out excuses. But today, Y/N decided she didn't want this banter back and forth, she wanted him. She put in extra work into her appearance for work today. Her hair was styled nicely, a shiny gloss coated her lips, and she wore Steve's favorite necklace that she owed. It was impossible not to look as it hung directly between her breasts.

 As she walked in, her eyes made contact with Robin, who did not bother to hide her smirk. "Well well, it looks like someone is dressing to impress." Y/N blushed and shrugged, "I'm going to do it today, Robin." She exclaimed excitedly. Robin's smile beamed, "About time. He's in the back. Go get your man." With a big smile on her glossy lips, she ran straight into Steve. "Slow down, gorgeous." He laughed. "I want to ask you something," she said, a tad nervous. He nodded along with an encouraging smile. "Would you want to go out on a date tonight?" The silence was starting to make her sick. Her heart felt like it was going to fall out of her stomach and puke it out. But the smile that lit up Steve's face eased her worries. "I thought you'd never ask." The date was set. They were going to a carnival that the town was having for the month. She wore a long-sleeved, slightly tight shirt. A pair of ripped jeans and sneakers. Her hair was thrown up; she did not want it to blow into her wet lips all night. They were walking hand in hand around the park. Steve bought cotton candy for them to share and covered her arms in his jacket. The night was going well. They smiled, laughed, and more soft touches were shared. She was so glad she took the first step in asking him out. She wanted him for way too long. "Alright, I'm doing the most cliche moment in recent history. I am giving you a giant stuffed animal, "Steve announced as he walked up to the balloon booth. He perfected his stance and threw darts into the balloons. Hearing the satisfying pop and ring of a bell had announced to the couple he had won. "Pick your poison, gorgeous." He had a bright smile on his face. He hasn't felt this smitten in a long time, ever since Nancy. He loved this feeling. Seeing her smile grow as she pointed to the giant stuffed elephant had him swooning. The guy handed over the elephant. She turned to Steve with a glossy smile and said, "Thank you, Stevie." The nickname melted his heart. If Robin was here, she'd have a field day. His heart skipped faster as she leaned in and smashed her lips on his. He could feel both their lips stretching into smiles as they tasted each other. He could feel his lips getting wet and sticky from her gloss, but he didn't care. She pulled away with a giggle, "Sorry I kind of turned your lips pink." She went to wipe it off, but Steve's hand stopped her. "No, I will wear this proudly." It had been a few weeks since the first date, and she felt so special. He picked her up for work and brought her home. And he even got her flowers the next morning, stating how he would love to do it again sometime. She was gushing to Robin about how perfect everything had been going. They've been on three more dates and kissed many more times. By the third date, they were making out in the front seat of Steve's car in the middle of her driveway. She wanted him to ask her to be his girlfriend, and she was willing to wait however long it took. ~~~ But now, as she watched this gorgeous girl walk up to the counter asking for movie recommendations, looking like an actual model, her stomach turned sour. She didn't miss the way Steve checked her out, from her hair down to her expensive shoes. Steve gladly took her under his wing and walked her through the store. His eyes never once reached Y/N's. Her stare seemed to be burning in his head, but it was like he didn't care. He was starstruck by this new girl. She put on a fake smile and continued to help the other customers. Sadly, that wasn't the only day the girl showed up; she came every single day. Robin told her she always showed up and asked for Steve's help only. Robin was good at reading people. She knew what Steve was doing was hurting her best friend. She wanted to punch Steve in his perfect face. It was like she had just completely vanished from his life. He barely talked to her. When she called to hangout, he was busy with her. She knew she couldn't be mad at him because they weren't dating, but she felt led on. Why make it seem like she mattered to him if he was going to blow her off? Why would he kiss her if he wasn't interested in being with her? Did he just want a quick fling? She had so many questions. It has been two weeks of Steve ignoring Y/N for this new girl. She couldn't stand by and watch him flirt with this girl right in front of her, like she just didn't matter. She needed it to stop and she needed him to know he was hurting her. At the end of the shift, she walked to his car. Before she could get a word out, Steve beat her to it, "Sorry, I can't give you a ride tonight. I'm meeting Lexi at the hideout. " She felt her heart shatter right there. He finally acknowledged her just to say he was blowing her off for Lexi, again.

"I wasn't coming for a ride, Steve. I haven't gotten one from you in two weeks.” The harsh and bitter tone slipped out stronger than she wanted it to be. She didn't want to be hostile, but it was so hard. He just didn't care anymore, and that hurt.

 Steve was taken back by her tone, but before he could question it, she beat him to it. “I need to talk to you tonight at my house. I'm not taking no for an answer. Come before the hideout or after. I don't care. " And she headed to her bike and rode off to home. Steve was frozen. He had never heard her so bitter, angry, and mean before. She was always so sweet, gentle, and more. He quickly got in his car and ran home to change, then went to her place. Y/N was waiting on her bed, tears soaking into the stuffed elephant that felt more of a painful reminder now than a happy memory. Robin told her all about King Steve, but she said he changed. Now she wasn't so sure. Maybe he doesn't stay satisfied for long. Or maybe she was just the problem. A cough caused her head to whip up. There, Steve stood with a sad look in his eyes. Seeing her cry into her elephant caused his heart to hurt more than he wanted. He wanted to smile at the memory, but he had a feeling he fucked up. "Your mom let me in." He took a seat next to her and reached for her hand. It felt like a blow in the gut when she ripped it out of his reach. She threw the elephant to the floor and hugged her knees. "I want to ask you something," she started. It felt like déjà vu. She has memories of when she last said that led them to the best date of her life. A date that now felt like a painful reminder that it didn't mean anything to him. "Are you dating this Lexi girl?" She asked, and it fucking hurt to ask out loud. The fear of the answer was hanging above her head. She didn't want to reach for it, but she needed the truth. "No, I'm not. We are just hanging out. " 

"But you like her?" She took his silence as a yes. She could see the guilt swimming in his brown orbs. She sighed and tried to collect herself. "You made me think I actually mattered to you, like you really liked me. I thought we were working towards a relationship and you just hung me out to dry. " She wished she could stop crying. She hated feeling this way this weak in front of him. He had never seen her cry before, and knowing it was because of him made guilt build in his stomach. Regret filled his veins, seeing her break down, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix this. “You do matter. I do really like you. I'm sorry. I just got caught up. Please let us work this out. Just you and me. " He felt like he was begging. If he just stayed focused on her, none of this would be happening. She shook her head at his words, "No you don't, Steve. I was just the one girl who made you feel wanted. kept you warm until someone else came along. My feelings don't matter to you; my feelings aren't important to you; and you don't want to be with me. If you wanted me, you would have looked elsewhere. " It hurt to say, but it was the truth. She was smitten by him. She didn't even notice anyone else. It wasn't the same for him. "It sucks. Because I want to hate you, but I can't. " She whimpered out in between her sobs. His heart felt heavy. He collected her in his arms, letting her tears soak into his shirt. He apologized in her hair, but he knew it wasn't enough. He lost her, and he had no one to blame but himself. "Lexi is waiting for you. Goodbye, Steve. I'll see you at work. " And with that, she stood up and went into her bathroom. She needed to be alone, and she prayed when she came back he would be gone, and he was.

[amageish]

Reflecting on queer representation in X-Men 97 - and speculating on the future...

Before X-Men '97 was revealed, I made a post all about queer X-Men characters and the possibilities for this show... and now the show is out... so I figure I should do a follow-up! Let's discuss what happened and the possibilities for the future.

This is a long post, so I'll put my thoughts under the cut!

Part One: What We Got

Morph

The show's primary form of queer representation is in the character of Morph. They're the main "OC" of the original 1992 cartoon - they've always been important to the animated series canon despite not having much presence in the comics - so this is a pretty bold choice from that perspective...

They are a fairly unique type of gay by 2024 mass-market corporate standards. They're sassy bordering on mean in a way that would feel very typical for the 2000s but is sort of refreshing in the 2020s... They are non-binary, though their gender is never really discussed in the show itself - their voice actor sees them as being on a gender journey, though my personal reading is that they seem quite comfortable with themself and their gender already... Everyone who refers to them uses they/them pronouns thus far, though most dialogue is written to avoid gendering them entirely.

They are also notably attracted to Logan, something reflected throughout the show though most directly acknowledged in Episodes 3 and 10. They joke about showering with Logan and, when they think they see him in the showers, they give themselves Wolverine claws to help him reach the "hard-to-reach places"... Morph then actually says "I love you" to him in Episode 10, taking the form of Jean Grey to do it.

Whether a queer character pining for the "straight"* friend is good representation or an overplayed trope is subjective, but we will see where this arc goes in future seasons!

*Logan definitely isn't straight, but Marvel Corporate and Season 1 showrunner Beau DeMayo both say he is lmao.

Cipher + Boom Boom

I made an entire post about these two, but we also got a same-gender duo dancing at the Gala on Genosha... These are Cipher and Boom Boom - two characters who are not currently explicitly queer in the comics, but are interesting characters to read as queer IMHO! Cipher especially is a fascinating choice - the background gay is someone with the power to literally turn herself invisible lmao.

Northstar

Marvel's first openly gay superhero made two cameos in X-Men 97 - he appears in an X-Men recreation of A Different World in Episode 4 and with his fellow Alpha Flight members (plus Cipher and Psylocke) in Episode 10. He doesn't do anything of note really, but his hair colour is correct at least - the original show mistook his hair having white streaks as a trick of the light in some famous books and comic covers as him actually black-and-white hair in-universe...

Pixie

I'm not 100% sure if this should count, but the ever-perky Pixie turned up on Genosha in Episode 5 alongside her fellow New X-Men. As of writing, she's more of a queer-coded character than a capital-C canon queer in the comics... but she is solicited to be in the next Pride book alongside Bling! and Anole, who are canon queers, so I feel like her long-implied (and confirmed in an AU) bisexuality is likely to be canon in a couple weeks... so yeah - Genosha had a queer fae on it! Good for her.

There were a couple of other background gay characters, but nobody recognizable from the comics - there are some theories Blink and Husk were presented as a couple, but the "Blink" character appears to be a shapeshifter, so I would guess they are just OCs...

Part Two: Who is Teased

Like any modern Marvel project, we ended on a bunch of teasers... Two big explicitly queer names appear in those final moments - let's chat about that...

Iceman

After a season of appearing in the portrait of the O5 X-Men in Xavier's office, Bobby appears in Forge's DoFP-style board of potential future teammates at the end of the show.

In the comics, he famously comes out as a result of time-displaced versions of the original X-Men team showing up. A teenage Jean Grey reads the mind of a teenage Bobby Drake, who has been obscenely remarking on his very-real totally-not-fake attraction to Magik, and tells him that he is gay. This... probably isn't going to happen in the show, but I could see them taking this as a chance to do another take on Bobby's coming out.

They also could adapt the older story where Emma Frost possesses Bobby's body and, among other things, informs him that he will not be able to master his powers to their full potential until he works through his internalized identity crisis - though she doesn't say that he is gay at the time (the Comics Code prohibiting such things was still in effect), just implying it.

Bobby's had a lot of pairings in the comics, but in the show I think he is likely going to be Morph's actual love interest. He's gay. He's also a queer jokester. They'd probably get along and enjoy ribbing each other. We'll see what happens, but that's my guess...

Rachel Summers

Mother Askani was a shadow that lingered over the entire show and finally revealed herself in the final moments. The woman who raised Cable in a distant future alongside a cult of her worshippers, Mother Askani is a variant of another Summers-Grey child, Rachel Summers from Days of Future Past.

After decades of queer-coding, Rachel was finally confirmed as queer in 2022 when she kissed Betsy Braddock. This coming-out took around a year to be approved by corporate, but it did indeed finally happen and she even has a story in this year's Pride special. So I am hoping that she will be doing some queer stuff in the show itself...

Rachel's younger form was already present in the original show, albeit as a non-verbal cameo, so my prediction is that she has done all her time-travelling stuff and got split into her Askani and Mother Askani forms off-screen... but we will see how they adapt this character - Rachel's never really had a chance to be multi-media before, so I'm unsure how much they will streamline things.

Part Three: Askani's Partners

Rachel Summers has only had one textual girlfriend, but she's somehow still gotten around... Let's discuss some possibilities!

Betsy Braddock

Betsy Braddock is Rachel's current and thus far only textual girlfriend. Not unlike Rachel, Betsy has some... complicated lore. While she is currently the leader of the Captain Britain Corps, she spent a lot of her publication history with her mind trapped in the body of the Japanese Ninja Kwannon, operating as the assassin Psylocke.

Yes. That Psylocke. Most Psylocke appearances are actually a white British woman inside of a Japanese woman's body. I am sorry if anyone had to learn that this this way.

In a not-so-hot take: I think the show should just skip the body swap... but with rumours of Captain Britain in the MCU and the Captain Britain Corps being a multiversal entity (it is basically the Spiderverse movie's Spider Society, but done in the 80s) there may be some red tape around the use of Betsy. I hope there isn't though as I would like to see them in animation!

Kitty Pryde

Rachel's other big queer love interest in the comics is Kitty Pryde. Chris Claremont, the architect of what most people associate with the X-Men, has gone so far as to say that she is the "primal love" of Pryde's life and tried to imply that they had gotten married and had kids together in his epilogue for the X-Men brand, X-Men: The End. It's never been textual, but they are pretty darn gay in plenty of the Claremont stuff - including his Excalibur, the run that Kitty Pryde's design on the Episode 10 billboard is taken from.

Kitty Pryde is a complicated character when it comes to queerness. In 2020, Pryde kissed a girl and plenty of news publications ran stories about how she is finally canonically bisexual... and then, uh, nothing really happened in the comics? She has continued to be bi-coded since, but it doesn't seem like Marvel Corporate considered that kiss to be a coming out at all? Which is wild as it is, uh, a same-gender kiss, but she hasn't gotten to be in a Pride book or anything since then... I am unsure if '97 would be able to make it explicit when the lower-stakes less-widely-read comics are currently struggling to do so, but we will see?

Though speaking of Kitty Pryde being queer...

Illyana Rasputin

Cameoing in Episode 3 via Morph and appearing on the DoFP billboard as well in Episode 10, the marvellous Magik seems set to make her 97 debut! She's Kitty Pryde's OTHER roommate who she has a soulbond with. Yeah, uh, Pryde got two of those. We love that for her.

Like Rachel, she's also a long-queer-coded woman with a history of violence, having her autonomy taken away from her, and deep-rooted insecurities which Pryde uniquely is able to help her through...

I'd be surprised if either Illyana/Rachel or Pryde/Illyana managed to happen in this show, but this is one of my favourite X-Men pairings so I had to mention it... I am a sucker for soulmate "Our subtextual queerness gives us EXTRA SUPERPOWERS" stuff and Illyana and Pryde have had some truly S-tier moments like that that I'd love to see in animation. Honestly, I'd even take it if they were just "soulmates" and they played it in a campy Xena-y way too...

Concluding Thoughts

I feel somewhat mixed on the queer rep of 97 in general. The show is super bold politically and thematically, but feels below the level of queer representation projects like Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur or even Hulu's Runaways provided. The show thematically is so invested in queer experience, using mutant metaphor to tell a number of incredibly well-written and resonant queer stories via several characters (especially Sunspot), but it doesn't seem as interested in explicit direct queerness.

I'm optimistic we'll see more in the future seasons though... but we'll see if this post ages any better than my last one lmao.

[starsofmilos]

The Five Times (Adrian Chase x reader)

Synopsis: The five different times Adrian proved he wasn’t like your toxic ex.

So I’m in need of some fluff and smidge of angst and this came to me last night and I immediately whipped out my laptop and got to work! I hope y’al like this and these are experiences of mine. I know not everyone is the same, but this kinda my coping mechanism. 

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of past emotional abuse, mentions of trauma, mentions of toxic relationship, angst, fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of pressuring to have sex, insecurities and mentions of weight gain

Adrian Chase was deeply in love with you.

He always made sure to say it at least once a day and he always made sure to prove it in anyways he could. 

But there were five times you could pinpoint that he truly made you feel loved. Even though he didn’t directly say it those times. 

Number One

The relationship was still new at this point. Adrian came over to spend the night as he had been doing for about a good month now. 

You hummed as you brushed your hair gently trying to look as presentable as possible before Adrian showed up. Even though at the moment you’d rather do anything than do your makeup.

Groaning a bit, you grabbed your washcloth wiping your face. Would Adrian even care if you had make up on? 

‘I’d expect for you to put effort in your looks if you really want me to stay!’

Your ex’s words played out in your head as you grabbed your foundation pad. Adrian would care. Most guys do.

“Hello my love!!” You jumped hearing his voice ring through. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you tensed up once he walked in the room.

“There you are!” He approached you tilting your head back. You pouted a bit as he kissed your lips. Adrian hummed in content turning your chair around so your could face him.

“What are you doing? Why you putting on makeup? Did we have a date tonight?! I’m so sorry! Did I forget?! Oh shit! I didn’t bring nice clothing unless you count these stupid jeans here!”

“No! No!” You laughed a bit, “I was just putting it on so you didn’t have to see my stupid ugly face all natural.”

“Oh..wait! Your face is not stupid or ugly! Your face is very pretty!” He kissed you pulling you away from your makeup. 

“But I need to put it on-”

“Why though? It’s not like we’re going anywhere plus in all the time we’ve been spending together I noticed you get irritated having to remove it every night so come on! We have some cuddling to catch up on!” 

“You don’t like when I put on makeup?”

“No I do. I love your face with or without though and I can kinda tell you didn’t wanna put it on.”

“How could you tell that?”

“For one you were pouting and you usually never hesitate to do something unless you really don’t wanna do it.” You smiled a bit as he grabbed your face.

“Besides you look so beautiful right now and I just wanna lay down and watch some cartoons with you.”

“Can I put pajamas on?”

“We’ll put pajamas on together...Hey real quick though why did you think I’d care if you had make up on?”

“Well...to be honest my ex kinda did..had to make sure I looked presentable at all times so he could stay..glad he didn’t though you came along..”

“Yeah he sounds like a douche nozzle. I’m glad he left so I can show you that I don’t care how you look. You’re not getting rid of me at all. I mean at all. I just wanna make sure you are comfortable. If you wanted to never wear make up again I’d still be here.”

“Do you really mean that?..”

“Yeah. You are beautiful with or without make up and you should only put it on only when you want not because you think you need to please me. Now can we please watch the scooby doo live action movies and wear pajamas. I’ll order a pizza.”

You couldn’t possibly be more in love with him.

Number Two

It was going to be a great night. 

You friends birthday was today and she invited all of you for a small party at her place. Thing was she planned it last minute.

Fidgeting a bit, you cautiously approached Adrian as he washed the dishes. “Hey honey...whatcha doin?”

“I’m washing the dishes.” He laughed a bit turning around.

“You look nice...and smell nice..”

“Yeah..I was wondering if it’s okay with you my friend is having a last minute hang out for her birthday and I wanted to know if I could go? I promise to make it up to you! I’ll figure out a ride home in case I decide to drink! I-I just would really like to go-”

“Hey hey! Calm down! Of course you can go dude.”

“Really?”

“Yeah why would I say no? Go out with your friends have a good time.”

“Okay..” You smiled at him giving him a small kiss. “Do I look okay?”

“You kidding me? You look incredible. Also about what was said before if you need anything and I mean anything please call me. Be safe.”

“Thank you Adrian! I promise I’ll make it up to you-”

“You have nothing to make up to me buttercup. You also don’t have to ask for my permission to go out either you know that right?”

“Really?”

“Yes really. All you gotta do is let me know that you’re gonna go out with some friends. I’ll say that’s cool just keep me updated so I know you’re safe and to please send me your location. It’s like when I go on patrols.”

“Oh..I never thought of it that way..You sure you’re not upset with me?”

“I promise you I’m not. Now you should start heading out. Message me when you get there so I know you’re safe and call me if you do end up needing a ride.”

“Okay thanks Adrian! I’m gonna finish getting ready!” You cheered a bit running to the room. 

Adrian made a small promise afterwards to always make sure you felt reassured and safe enough to not feel the need to ask him for permission for simple things.

Number Three

It was your one year anniversary. Adrian had officially moved into your home and you had wanted tonight to be special.

So you ordered pizza and rented out his favorite movies for the night. Adrian was already home as you walked in carrying the pizza. 

“I’m home!”

“Oh hey!! I’m in the shower. Give me a minute and I’ll be out!” 

“Okay!!” You sighed a bit getting dressed in more comfy clothes looking around once you heard a small chirp.

It was Adrian’s phone.

Grabbing it, you tensed up once realizing what you were doing. Quickly dropping his phone you backed away from it feeling scathed and guilt rise in your throat.

Why did you grab his phone and look at his messages? Adrian is gonna be so mad. They always are.

It was their business not yours.

“Y/N! You okay? You’re being kinda quiet!”

“Oh sorry!” You nervously replied. Hands fidgeting against your will, you groaned a bit knowing you needed to tell him.

“Adrian!”

“Yeah?!” Adrian peaked out behind the curtain seeing you enter the room.

“Your phone buzzed. You got a message. I’m sorry I touched it-”

“Oh! What did it say? Who is it from?!” 

“What?...”

“My phone? Who messaged?” You tensed up thinking the worse. Was he testing you? Was he was just waiting for you to do it to yell?

“Y/N? You okay? You look pale?” Adrian grew concerned turning the water off to step out.

Adrian would never do that.

“It’s Emilia she said your guys mission was moved to this Friday instead of next week.” You read off his phone quickly and anxiously.

Adrian hummed, “Oh okay can you respond back to her for me?”

“What?”

“I’m gonna dry up and change can you please respond back to her?” Adrian shot you a questioning smile.

“What would you like me to say to her?”

“Just type okay for me! Add a mermaid emoji!” Adrian approached you quirking an eyebrow as you tensed up. “Y/N?..You okay?”

“I’m sorry I touched your phone. I know it’s your business. I already let Emilia know, but if you’re gonna yell at me can you do it now so we could get it over with..”

“Woah woah! Yell at you? Why would I do that?” Adrian laughed a bit shaking his head. He planted a wet kiss on your cheek grabbing his shirt off the bed to begin dressing.

“Because I touched your phone?..”

“So what you touched my phone? Big deal. You’re allowed to do that Y/N. You can go through my phone anytime you want.” Adrian booped your nose walking around you to grab his sweat pants.

“I can...” He turned around seeing the uncertain small look on your face.

“Yeah honey you can..Are you okay?” You nodded looking away. Adrian shook his head grabbing your face to stare at you.

“What’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?” Adrian hummed waiting for your response.

“My ex..almost all of them would get angry if I so much as placed their phone somewhere else, but you just let me message someone and said I can go through it anytime I want.”

“Yeah you can..God I hate that piece of shit you dated. Look I have absolutely nothing to hide from you. Go through my phone anytime you want.” Adrian placed a small kiss on your pouting lips.

“You smell good.” You smiled as he pulled away.

“Thanks it’s your shampoo.” He grinned pulling you away. “Now let’s go relax.”

Number four

“Shit..” You groaned out feeling Adrian move his lips down your neck. 

Adrian moaned out grinding down onto you as he fiddled with your pant buttons. He kissed you once you grabbed his face whispering his name softly.

“Adrian..” 

Adrian glanced at your face for a small moment taking you in. His hands roamed along your sides sliding them under your shirt. “Yes honey..”

“I love this a lot, but I’m not really in the mood..” Adrian stopped his movements freezing on the spot.

“I’m sorry. I probably should’ve mentioned it earlier, but I just really wanted kisses and cuddles..”

“Oh..”

“Yeah..please don’t be upset! I’ll make it up to you! Or maybe if we can keep going I can get in the mood-” Adrian shook his head kissing you quickly to shut you up.

“You have nothing to make up for and we are not continuing if you’re not up for it.”

“But I’m your girlfriend. I know sex is kinda a big deal and I don’t want you to think I’m stuck up. Or think that I’m not interested in you. I’m your girlfriend I know I should be willing whenever.”

“You are not stuck up and I know this doesn’t mean you’re not interested in me. You’re allowed to not be in the mood” Adrian shook his head kissing your forehead. 

“Okay I’m sorry Adrian..”

“You have nothing to be sorry about..Who said anyways that you always have to be ready for sex!” Adrian tried to joke but grew quiet seeing your eyes grow watery.

His eyes darkened once he realized.

“I will never and I mean never pressure or force you to do anything you do not want. If you are not in the mood for sex, then we don’t have sex. Instead we cuddle and kiss just like you wanted.”

“But-”

“No more buts. You are my girlfriend and my equal half. I give you the respect you give me. My heart is yours. I think it’s always been yours and it breaks my heart when you think that I wouldn’t treat you in a way you deserve to be treated.” 

You felt a couple of tears fall down your face as you jumped up throwing your arms around Adrian. He smiled kissing you gently as you thanked him. 

“You deserve to be treated good and I promise I will always be the one to spoil you and be the one care for you.”

Number five

You groaned throwing down your clothes frustrated at the fact that what was once a cute pair of jeans now were a unwearable cute pair of jeans.

Your favorite pair couldn’t even make you feel better. Nothing felt right. 

“Fuck me!”

“Don’t mind if I do!” You screamed a bit throwing a nearby pillow to the door where Adrian stood.

“Nice..you do that to all the intruders or am I your loving boyfriend just lucky?”

“You’re the lucky one.” You smiled sheepishly as you turned back to face the mirror.

“I look gross...” You sighed dejectedly as Adrian approached wrapping his arms around your waist resting his head on your shoulder. 

“You’re not gross? You look just as beautiful as ever.”

“No..I just look bad..”

You gave Adrian a small pointed look. Adrian smiled running his hand down your sides. “You look great..”

“But my body feels bloated and I look weird and I gained some weight!

Adrian groaned, “There’s always a but with you! Most of the time they don’t even make sense! Who cares if you gained weight? Or if you’re bloated! I can reassure that you do not look weird.” 

“Don’t you care if I gained weight?”

“Fuck no! You kidding me!” Adrian groped your ass grinning as you jumped. “I love your body. I love it so much! I could care less if you gained weight or if you’re bloated. As long as you’re healthy and happy I do not care!” 

He lifted you up tossing you on the bed. “You say that now-”

“And I mean that now. Look Y/N I love you. I’m so fucking crazy about you that I don’t even understand it myself. I love you very much..”

“I know you do..I just worry sometimes I wanna be enough for you-”

“No shut up. In the nicest way possible shut up. You are way too good for me.”

“No I’m not-”

“Yes. Yes you are. You are so much better than me. You say you wanna be sure you’re good enough for me? Y/N I kill people for fun and fight aliens on a daily basis. I am a fucking busboy and nerd who still plays dnd but alone so no one judges me. You are way more than enough for me. You are everything.”

“I’m everything for you?..”

“Yes. Look you are my first love and the very first person I have ever said I love you too. I know you don’t have the best experiences with past relationships, but I am not those guys.”

“I know you aren’t..I’m sorry Adrian-”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Now let me finish.” He jabbed your sides causing you giggle. 

“I know I’m not your first I love you like you are mine. I know I’m not the first person you’ve ever caught feelings for again like you are mine.”

You laughed a bit as he kissed your cheek blowing a raspberry giving you a look of what you could only describe as adoration.  

“What I do know is that I would love and would do anything to be the last person you say I love you too. The last person to keep you happy, safe and loved. I know I don’t say it often enough, but I love you.”

“I love you too and believe me..you are and will be the last person I say I love you too..”

“Good...now get dressed and let’s go out for some of your favorite.”

“I hate you for being so good Adrian..”

“Well that kinda stings.”

“Shut up and kiss me dork.” He rolled his eyes kissing you softly.

“Since you insists..I mean it though if you ever feel insecure or you need me to reassure you then I will always be more than happy to do so.” You nodded grasping his face.

“Hey just to clarify..You’re my everything too..”

“Good..I will never let you go.”

There were five times that Adrian proved that he loved you. 

You have to say the fifth one and the day you got married were your favorites..

[teddypickerry]

Hi idk if you’re requests are open but if so could you write a Nikki Sixx x reader where he confesses that he’s in love with the reader even though they have Ben like fighting. And the reason the have been fighting is because there both in rival bands. Idk man I just thought it was like cute lol

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 !

pairings! nikki sixx x fem best friend reader

word count! 1.8k

warnings! swearing (duh it’s nikki fucking sixx), mentions of sex (again… it’s a nikki sixx fic idk what the fuck you expect)

a/n! i kinda put my own spin on your request, i hope that’s good!! but guys I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE A NIKKI FIC FOR WAY TOO FUCKING LONG SO KEEP THEM REQUESTS COMING BC I NEED MORE OF MY SEXY ROCKSTAR. also can we talk about that photo???? looks can kill bc i am dead.

being in the rock scene as a woman is one of the hardest things to be conquered. or so, that's how it seemed. you couldn't go one day without being mistaken for some crazed groupie who was trying to sneak into the rehearsals. the rehearsals that were your very own, not some man's.

being the opener for mötley crüe was a new level of difficulty. when nikki sixx had asked you to fill in the position for their first world tour, you'd obliged, this gig possibly leaving you to the stardom you'd always desired. plus more time with the bassist boy who you'd had spent way too much time with in the past few years.

it started in '79 when you had just moved to the city of angels with your best friend who had already lived there a few months. when you arrived, she had a guy in her life who was living off her while in between bands. you thought this classified him as a jackass — or maybe she was just naive, but either way, it was a dick move. he ate all of your food, used all of the toilet paper, and had loud sex with your best friend all night long.

it was less than two months that you lived with the jackass before your best friend kicked him out. she had accused him of cheating which you found insane at the time, only to find truth behind that statement the more you got to know the sleazy bastard.

so, for some reason you found yourself at his band london’s show that same week. he spotted you instantly and ever since then — the two of you became an item. not the kind you think, but the kind that would kill the rest of the world for one another. the kind that had so much unspoken sexual tension but never once acted on it. too scared to ruin the relationship between the both of you. so here you were, nearly six years later, doing your hair to go out onstage to open up for his now national selling band.

"axl rose is a bad kisser, i'm just being honest." hannah, your vocalist, shrugged before applying her red lipstick in the mirror directly beside you and your hot roller set. the drummer snorted from the couch as she sipped on something that definitely wasn't water. "that's why you should have chose slash."

"it wasn't exactly a pick and choose, mila." hannah directed at the girl who balanced sticks in her hands before glancing down at you. "what about you y/n, who'd you fuck last night?"

"i left early. i went to the whisky with n-"

"with nikki," mila and hannah finished for you as you pursed your lips and took out your final curl. the two girls shared a look before their was a slight knock on the door. it opened before anyone could say a single thing though. speaking of the devil, nikki sixx stood their in all his glory. his cocky grin directed on his face, taking up the small parts you could see — his jet black dyed hair taking over the rest. he was tanned, probably because of the months in california he spent before the tour. his tanned and tattoo covered chest was wide opened, a jean vest hardly buttoned over him. he looked perfect, as per fucking usual.

"ladies!" he greeted simply with that grin of his. the two girls turned to face him, your eyes still stuck on yourself in the mirror as you started on your makeup. "nikki, you know we could have been naked." hannah spoke simply as her eyes glossed over you for a second before turning back to him, noticing his eyes also stuck on you. "well i knocked didn't i?"

"yeah, then you bolted in here." mila spoke teasingly as she messed around with her drumsticks. nikki glanced at the both of them for a second before turning back towards you, you not even giving him the light of the day. he knew what this was about, this was the very same reason he came to this dressing room.

it all started this morning when doc had ordered you to his office far too early — 9am. which for rockstar time is like 4am to a normal person. so, you went to his office tired and all, from nikki having you home at 4am rather a reasonable time. he had told you the basics of the rest of the tour and added in, as if it was no big deal, that nikki happened to head to your ex best friend's apartment after he dropped you off. because that's where he was that very morning when doc tried to contact him.

your ex best friend (the one nikki had dated that you roomed with) was a sore subject for you. nikki was the only one who truly knew what happeend. it was about a year after she kicked him out, she had crashed one of his mötley house parties that you were in attendance at. he thought it was hilarious at the time and didn't mind another hot girl in his house. but then when she noticed you, holy shit did she go psycho. you had realized later that she did this because she was jealous of you for nikki taking you under his wing, while she was the one who dumped the now successful rockstar.

there were screams of you being his slut who he would drop days later when he got bored of your "cunty behavior." then her saying something about fonzie and then pouring her drink all over your shirt. this kind of made nikki snap. he just went off, calling her a bitch and making her get out. it was the you finally realized nikki wasn't just some sleazy guy who you liked to hangout with. he was your best fucking friend.

so, the idea of him now fucking around with the girl who screamed in your face wasn't your ideal situation. "tommy has a new drum set he wanted to show you mila. and hannah..." nikki scratched the back of his neck as she finished his sentence. "i'm thirsty i'm gonna go get a drink."

"but you have a-" mila started only to get dragged by the arm with hannah's long fingernails out the door. nikki gave her a gracious smile as she shot him a wink and shut the door behind them. you acted innocent as you pampered the blush onto your face, noticing the man slowly making his way over towards you through the mirror. "y/n, babe-"

"i don't wanna hear it, nikki." you stated while you put away your blush and pulled out your eyeshadow palette. the long haired man sighed and pulled up the bench beside you climbing over it to face you. he was far too close to you, not that it bothered you. it's not like the two of you weren't used to being shoved against one another. but this was different. you knew he had spent the morning cuddled up with her. "pretty girl, i know you don't like carly. i know you can't stand her and neither can i-"

"-then why'd you spend the morning fucking off in her bed, sixx? if you hate her so much then stay away from her." you turned to face him, your faces inches apart. you could feel his breath on you as he sighed, placing his hand on your back. "i'm a sleaze, y/n. she wanted some and i was craving it so i went to her apartment. okay? i'm not proud of it," he dryly chuckled. "but i'm not proud of most of the things i do."

"you shouldn't be," you spoke as you brushed the eyeshadow over your eyelids and nikki bit down on his bottom lip. he couldn't process why this pained you so much, yeah he wished he could take it back but that was him. why did it hurt you? "babe, you're making it real difficult to apologize to right now."

you rolled your eyes before packing up some of your makeup and continuing on with your routine. he sat in silence for a moment while watching you, as if you were his favorite VHS tape that he would rewind a million times. even when he didn't understand you at times — he still was in admiration of you. everything about you amazed him. "stop looking at me."

"you make it so hard..." he paused his sentence in his twelve year old self before continuing, "when you look so fucking pretty." he expressed as he reached his hand toward, messing with the side of your tank top before making eye contact with you in the mirror. "nik?"

"hm?" he hummed as he leaned on his other hand, his eyes still locked on you in the mirror. "why? just, why? i know it wasn't just because you're 'sleazy'. you fucking hate carly and that's always enough to keep it in your pants."

nikki seemed shocked by your words but played it off with a dry laugh. the real reason was deep down and he knew it was there. he didn't want it to be there but it was, his friends reminded him of it every goddamn time you breathed. "cause..." he cleared his throat. "i'm a fucking maniac for you."

your head immediately turned towards him, your eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to have a smile of relief on his face. as if saying that cured cancer. "i've spent six years knowing you, craving you... and i thought for some fucked up reason if i fucked the girl that brought us together, i'd get over you miraculously. i realized how dumb it was the moment she was naked. because the only reason i ever fucked in that apartment was because i knew you were there. god," he paused to laugh and rub his face. "the first time i saw you, i thought carly was shit. you just... god, y/n. i fucking fell for you and i haven't stopped since then."

you couldn't believe your ears, you would have sworn your heart stopped at your best friend's words. your world stopped, that's for sure. probably when you shut him up and kissed him. it was a feeling you've desired for far too long. his chapped lips tasted so good against your own. and his little monologue tasted even fucking better. "even though you have a shit band, i want you to be my girl." nikki mumbled in between the kiss, making you slap his arm as he pulled away. the cocky grin was present on his face. "even though you have a shit band," you smirked. "i want to be your girl, nikki sixx."

[katnisspeetaprim]

First Meeting

Always us couple, based on the story told in the first part (Suchwita) about how they first met!

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Word Count:936 M.list

January 2013

You were unbelievably late. As you ran through the BigHit hallways, you couldn’t help but curse yourself for not preparing better the night before.

You’d told your members to leave without you when it became clear you wouldn’t find all your dance gear in time.

Prima had debuted just under two years ago, so the heat was still on for the four of you, plus it was now time for a new comeback, so being late really didn’t give a good impression.

‘I’m sorry I’m late!’ You yelled out, flustered as you burst through the door to Prima’s usual dance studio. You stopped in your tracks when you came face to face with seven young men. You recognised them as trainees who would be debuting in a group called BTS soon.

Your face lit up red when you realised you’d just interrupted their practice.

‘I’m so sorry! My group must have been moved!’ You bowed to them in apology, but they were fast to dismiss your worry.

‘Who are you? A trainee too?’ A voice suddenly asked from across the room. You looked over with a slight frown and looked at the light haired boy. Did he seriously not know the other groups under his company’s label?

The other boys in the room shot him wide eyed looks, obviously afraid of one of their own offending their senior.

‘Please don’t mind him noona, he’s not very in the loop.’ The one you recognised as the leader, Namjoon, stepped forward, trying to de-escalate the situation. You laughed and waved your hand.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ You turned back to the other boy who now had a confused look on his face.

‘It’s Yoongi right?’ His eyes widened slightly when you mentioned him by name. ‘Give my group a listen sometime.’ You bowed again before quickly ducking out of the room.

You had to bite your lip when you heard the boys begin to bicker behind the door, presumably scolding Yoongi for his actions. You laughed quietly and walked away to find your group.

The embarrassing encounter had slipped your mind after a few days, quickly becoming busy with your comeback. You found yourself with a rare free moment during the day, so you decided to spend your break in one of the quieter staff areas.

As you entered the room, you were pleased to find it empty, apart from a hunched over figure in one of the corner chairs. As you stepped closer, you realised that it was Yoongi.

You stopped and took in the younger boy. His eyes were closed and he had his ear phones in, clearly he was also enjoying a moment of peace.

As you stared, you seemed to realise that he was kinda cute and good looking, even in just a casual hoodie and jeans.

As if he could feel someone watching him, Yoongi opened his eyes and stared directly back at you. You blushed at being caught. Looking away, you cleared your throat and rubbed at your arm.

‘Hi Yoongi, nice to see you again.’ He’d taken his ear phones out and gave you a small smile.

‘Are you training hard for your debut? I know It’s not far away.’ You asked sweetly, wanting to make an effort with your fellow label mate. Yoongi raised his eyebrows slightly, not expecting you to be interested but he chose to not mention it.

‘Yeah... You know how hard it is to have a good debut and make a good first impression.’ You nodded with a small chuckle. It wasn’t always smooth sailing with your group. Your debut didn’t do as well as you’d hoped at first, but definitely picked up in the weeks after as more and more people discovered you.

An awkward silence fell over the two of you as you just kind of stood in the middle of the room.

‘I listened to your groups music.’ You suddenly perked up at his words, big smile appearing.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I really liked it.’ It was only a small thing, but it always made you giddy when someone voiced their favour for all your hard work. You took initiative and moved to sit next to the trainee.

‘I’m so glad to hear that!’ He flashed you a gummy smile when you sat next to him.

‘I hope you’ll like our new album too!’

‘I’m sure I will, if it’s even half as good as your others, then it’s going to be amazing!’ This boy was just full of compliments it would seem. It was making you feel all fluffy on the inside.

‘I’ll be supporting your debut too!’ You pulled out your phone and opened the camera.

‘Here! Let’s take a selfie and I’ll post it on my groups Twitter!.’ Yoongi’s eyes widened and leaned away.

‘Ah no, I look a mess right now.’

‘Oh hush! You look cute.’ He went silent but blushed at your compliment, giving in.

You shuffled closer and threw your arm round his shoulder, missing the way his blush deepened at the close contact.

‘There! We look great together, don’t you think?’ You showed him the photo and he could only nod with a smile. The two of you really did look good together. Now that he was looking at you properly, he had to admit that you were beautiful. Not only that but you were obviously talented too. Pretty much perfect in his eyes.

Yoongi knew he shouldn’t be thinking that way about his senior, but as long as he was careful, you would never find out. But eventually, you did find out.

[winchesterszvonecek]

Pool Table - [ Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek ]

Summary: You and Otis bet against each other during a game of pool

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: female!reader, flirting, betting, suggestive tones

Masterlist | Otis Masterlist

The bar was quiet. The air filled with a lingering smell of beer and the low rhythm of Def Leppard playing on the jukebox. It was a calm atmosphere, a relaxing one. One that was greatly needed after a long shift.

You and Otis both needed a break and where better to do that than at your second favourite bar in Chicago? The first being Molly’s of course and most nights you’d choose Molly’s but tonight you were longing for something different. A change in atmosphere which is why O'Flaherty's, the local Irish bar near your apartment, was the place to be tonight. It was nowhere near as good as Molly’s but there was only one thing O’Flaherty’s had that Molly’s didn’t and that was a pool table.

“Bet you miss this shot.” Otis said cockily, his eyes trailing across your curved body as you bent over to take your shot, lining your cue up with the ball.

“You wanna put your money where your mouth is?” You flirted, unable to help yourself in doing so as you straightened, rolling your smile at Otis’s frown over not being able to stare at your ass any longer. “Say… Fifty bucks?”

“You’re on.” Otis scoffed lightly, taking a sip of his beer before he set it aside and shook your hand, which before he could pull from your grasp he felt your grip tighten around, pulling him closer to you which had him gulp harshly.

“Prepare to empty your wallet.” You whispered, running your tongue over your bottom lip as you chuckled softly over how flustered you could make him. How a single phrase, a single look, could have him sweating beneath his shirt. The two of you weren’t even together but you’d always had that certain something and who knows, perhaps this game of pool was exactly what you needed to take that final step.

You let go of his now sweaty hand, wiping your own subtly on your jeans before you returned to line up your shot. You took your time, making sure you had the perfect angle, something you knew Otis didn’t mind as you could feel his eyes burning into you as he stared at you, no doubt undressing you with those gorgeous brown eyes of his. You just secretly hoped he liked what he imagined.

You took your shot, the cue ball clanging softly against your colour, the ball rolling quickly and quietly across the green and towards the corner, where it landed directly in the pocket. You grinned to yourself, hearing Otis sigh quietly behind you as he fumbled for his wallet.

You turned just in time to see him reluctantly pull a fifty dollar bill from amongst the leather, which he held out between his fingers, his face telling you he wasn’t exactly happy about it. You laughed, a quiet, deep laugh, one that had a tingle shoot up his spine as you grabbed the bill from his hold.

“Why thank you.” You said smugly, tucking the bill safely into your bra which had Otis suck in a breath, unable to help his eyes from falling downwards. You lifted your finger, using it to push his chin up to look you in the eyes again, even though you didn’t mind him staring at your chest. “My eyes are up here.”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t…” Otis stammered out, growing more and more flustered as the seconds passed. He swallowed harshly, scratching at the back of his neck as his face reddened, all the way up to the tip of his ears which felt as though they were on fire.

“Relax.” You chuckled, unable to help yourself. “I don’t care if you look… But I do care about taking more of your money so what do you say we triple it?”

“I’m listening.” Otis said, his eyes squinting a little towards you as you leaned back against the pool table, your palms pressing flat against the wooden trim.

“What do you say to… If I win, you give me another hundred dollars. But if you win… I give you your fifty back, plus a hundred and fifty of my own.” You tilted your head, watching the gears work in Otis’s mind as he no doubt thought about what else he’d rather have from you than your money.

“You got yourself a deal.” He held out his hand, waiting for you to shake it and when you did, his knees very nearly gave out from beneath him, but luckily for him he managed to compose himself. Although it was just as well you hadn’t pulled him closer to you again otherwise he’d have fully submitted to you and whatever you may have desired from him.

Shot after shot was taken, all of which went directly into the table's pockets. You were down to the final ball. The black ball, which sat in a rather awkward spot on the table, one you might have struggled with but luckily for you, it was Otis’s turn to try first.

“I hope you like giving me money.” You said smugly, blowing chalk off the end of your cue as you waited for him to line up his shot. “Because by the looks of things, you’re gonna be paying for my brand new shoes.”

“Keep dreaming, sweetheart.” Otis murmured, the pet name sending a flutter throughout your stomach as you watched him bend over the table to take his shot, unable to stop yourself from wishing you were beneath him.

The balls clattered together, the black bouncing off the edge with a rather loud clang. You watched with anticipation as it slowly rolled across the table, edging its way closer to the pocket. It slowed as it reached the edge, making your eyebrows perk up at the idea of being one hundred and fifty dollars richer, but when it fell into the pocket, giving Otis the win, your brows fell rather quickly, however your smile did not.

“And that’s how it’s done.” Otis said in satisfaction as he threw his cue atop the table, basking in his win as you sighed in defeat and threw your own cue to join his. He watched as you reached into your bra, pulling out the fifty you’d taken from him before you handed it back to him. “And the rest?”

“Ah.” You exhaled, closing your fist as you hit it gently against the table, your lips pressing together into a thin line. “See, I actually don’t have any cash on me.”

“Oh really?” Otis folded his arms, his eyebrow slowly arching as you began to make your way closer to him, causing him to once again start sweating beneath his shirt. Your fingers pressed against his chest, making him hold his breath as the tip of your nails sank into the fabric as you walked them slowly upwards, following them with your eyes until they landed on his.

“Perhaps there’s something else I can give you instead.” You whispered, your fingers moving upwards so you could run your thumb down his lips, which were on yours the second your touch left him.

Arm slipping around your waist, Otis moved you back, pressing your body against the pool table as his own collided with it, the two of you fitting together perfectly as his tongue delved deeper into your mouth. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers working their way into his hair, much like they did anytime you thought about this specific moment. Which you’d done plenty of times.

You hummed softly, your own tongue working against his as his hands began to move up your waist, bringing your t-shirt up with it before your hands fell, stopping him from going any further.

“In public was not part of your prize, so if you wish to claim it then you’d better take me home.” You whispered, pushing his hands down for your sides as you kissed him again, this one a lot less passionate than before but still heated enough to light a fire within you.

The second you pulled back, Otis grabbed your coats, helping you into yours before he took your hand and literally dragged you out of the bar and into a cab, his lips on yours the second you both landed atop the soft seats.

You could feel the pressure in your lower abdomen building, especially over his clear eagerness to bring you home where he was no doubt going to absolutely ravish you until you could see straight, something you’d thought about for weeks now. What it would feel like to have him devour you, something that was about to become a reality as you pulled up outside Otis’s apartment.

You drew back from him, fumbling into your pocket where you pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to the cab driver, earning a raised eyebrow from Otis as it was clear that you did indeed have cash. You rolled your lips, shuffling across the seats to join him on the street, where he still looked at you with intrigue.

“Oops… Looks like I did have cash after all.” You said innocently, batting your eyelashes before you sighed extra dramatically. “Guess I better pay you then.”

Before you could reach into your pocket, Otis’s hand landed atop yours, pulling it away from your jeans before he used it to bring you closer to him. Your body pressed against his as he quickly took your lips in his, kissing you roughly which only made you all the more desperate for him.

“Don’t bother.” He whispered, running his thumb down your kiss swollen lips as he stared deep into your eyes. “I’d much rather have you instead.”

“Good.” You replied breathlessly, kissing him once again. “Because if I had to pay you then I’d only have to break the news to you that I lost on purpose.”

“Oh you did, did you?” Otis chuckled, noticing that scheming glint behind your eyes as you leaned in, brushing your lips against his before you whispered.

“I did… Because baby, I just couldn’t help but feel jealous that that pool table got to be beneath you, and I didn’t.”

Prompt List

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[junosartsthetic]

Hi hi helloooo im having a bit of polnareff brainrot and id like to ask for a scenario where the sdc crew gets a lady crewmember with a strictly healing stand, but does all the fighting herself. On the battlefield she's a monster but when healing she's the sweetest mother hen and she gets really close to pol bc he's always getting hurt. These two are the best of friends who (not so) secretly have the major hots for eachother. Like to the point where even Avdol is like "jesus, get a fuckin room"

Hurt

This was such a cute prompt, thank you so much for suggesting it! I changed a few things up a tad but I hope it still meets your standards! I too am having Polnareff brainrot. Actually, I think it’s less of a rot and more of a sucker fish that has permanently attached itself. Basically, I love him. Okay. Enough of me. Anyway, enjoy.

Warning(s): suggestive content, Polnareff is naked, sexual undertones, tension, voyeurism mention, Jean's dick is mentioned (oops), nothing too bad.

--

The situation you found yourself in was nothing new—sitting beside an injured Jean Pierre Polnareff as your stand worked its magic patching him up. It was so un-new, in fact, that you had been in the same situation almost everyday for the last month. And as much as you loved helping your companions out after scuffles on the battlefield, there was a point where you had to speak up about a certain Frenchman’s bad luck streak. 

“Jean,” you began, examining the blood running down from the gash in his brow bone, “I know you’re not doing this intentionally, but I can’t help but wonder what curse has latched itself onto you. My stand has no issues patching you up, but I do like to use it for more than just nursing your wounds, you know. I should be out there fighting.” You pressed a damp cloth to a scratch on his cheek while your stand worked on quickly stitching up the slit above his eyes. Though having a precise stand that utilized razor-sharp threads and cauterizing abilities was more than useful for healing, you also yearned to assist your other friends in fighting off the stand user just a few blocks away from your hotel. Of course, Polnareff just had to anger Iggy directly beforehand, leading to his current facial injuries. 

“How do you think I feel?” the silver-haired man shot back, a hand resting on his chin as he pouted. “I haven’t had a break since I started this journey! I’m not even a Joestar, so why am I always the one getting hurt?” He gestured to the various scars littering his exposed arms and upper torso. 

“Well, technically this time was your fault—you know Iggy doesn’t like being picked up unless he says so,” you said, leaning forward on your chair to look closely at his now sewn injuries. 

“He’s a dog. He doesn’t say anything,” Jean huffed, crossing his arms and turning his head away. You rolled your eyes, grabbing his chin to recenter him. Patching him up would go a lot quicker if he quit squirming around like a fussy toddler.

“You know what I mean. He’s smarter than you think. Plus, he’s a sweetheart when he warms up to you, you know.” Your hands moved gently over his facial features, double-checking each cut was sewn and cauterized. Were you slightly over-dramatic when it came to checking your work? Yes. But you’d never forgive yourself if one of your patch-works went wrong. As something of a caretaker for the crew, you held yourself to the highest standards. 

“Are you finished yet?” he whined, crinkling up his nose when you brushed your thumb against the tip of it, wiping off a smear of dirt. You licked your thumb, repeating your actions. Jean reeled back, swatting your hands away. “Okay, okay, okay. I think that’s good. No need for saliva.” His normally pale face grew red, highlighting the soft freckles dotting his cheeks.

“I was getting some dirt off. Calm down. I don’t have cooties,” you muttered, shooing him away. “You look fine. Now go lay down or something. You look like you have a fever.”

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, brushing off your comment. “You’re not my mom. Don’t worry so much.” He stood up, heading towards the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower. Let me know if you hear anything from the others.” 

“Whatever,” you said, dismissing his attitude. You couldn’t blame him for the sour mood—he must’ve been in pain constantly from all his little cuts and bruises. Even with your stand, you couldn’t take away the pain, no matter how much you wanted to. Your heart sank thinking about all that Jean had gone through. He had it rough, but still managed to put on a charismatic face. You didn’t know how he found it within him, but adored his personality, nonetheless. You adored everything about him, actually. Every little freckle spotting his cheeks. Every scar littering his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Every silver hair that stood atop his head. You just. . . loved him. And though you tried not to let it show, it was obvious. It wasn’t just Polnareff’s wounds that had you always at his side—it was also your insistence to heal every little scratch you could.

Others you’d stitch up major wounds, making sure they’d live, but with Polnareff. . . It was different. You didn’t want him to just survive. You wanted to take away his pain. Not just physically. But emotionally.

You wanted to scream at him for always putting himself in danger. He always had to play the knight in shining armor. He always had to call out his stand, fighting off everything that tried to touch you. He always had to protect you. And for what? All he got in return were scars. No amount of chastising would stop him. And you hated it. Hated his determination. Hated that he cared too much to let anything happen to you.

You didn’t understand why it was only you. But it didn’t matter. You just wanted this trip to be over so he’d never have to put his life on the line to protect you again. 

A loud thud scattered your thoughts. You jumped out of your chair, heart thumping hurriedly as you raced to the bathroom door. You knew it came from inside the room. Was he attacked? Was he okay? Did you miss a wound? Not sparing a second, you threw open the door, examining the room. There was no enemy. No blood. No death. Only a soaking wet Polnareff, laying on the ripped off shower curtain. You were relieved. He must’ve just tripped and fell. Otherwise, he looked okay. More than okay, actually. He looked. . . well he looked like a very attractive naked man now staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. You quickly rebooted yourself, staring at the ground. “You okay?” you asked, looking at him through your peripheral. You wanted to respect his privacy, but also something told you that he had to have some sort of bodily injury from tumbling out of the shower, especially given his luck. That’s the only reason you were trying to sneak a peek. That’s all. 

“I’m starting to think I am cursed. I get in the shower, start it up, when out of the blue my knee cramps up, and next thing I know I’m tripping over the damn shower curtain! Mon Dieu!” he exclaims, sitting up and running a hand through his wet hair. You noticed blood begin to trickle down his forehead, and quickly lept in to investigate. You knelt down beside him, disregarding his flustered features as you looked at the damage. You brushed his hand away from his head, combing through his hair to spot a thin scrape just under his hairline. You knew it. Of course he’d manage to hurt himself in the few seconds he was alone. And just after you had healed him, too. 

Not wasting a second, you summoned your stand, making quick sutures and cauterizing it gently before Jean even got a chance to speak. You leaned back just enough to take in his full face, hands gently raking through his long silver locks, feeling for any bumps or blood. You felt nothing, and so retreated your hand, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“I’m starting to think I can’t leave you alone,” you muttered, closing your eyes as you rubbed your temples. “Do I have to give you baths now, too?”

“Only if you join me—”

“Don’t be nasty,” you interrupted, smacking his bare chest. “You know I don’t like when you flirt with me just for the fun of it. Anyway, don’t kill yourself taking a shower. I’ll be outside.” You said, straightening yourself up. You took one step forward before your foot slid against the now wet floor, sending you reeling backwards. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping nothing would break after you made contact with the bathroom tile. 

Instead of bare tile, you crashed into Jean, who quickly cradled you against his chest, dampening your clothes and smushing you against his naked body. You caught your breath, eyes wide as you took in your situation.

“Who’s got bad luck now, hmm?” he chuckled, breath tickling your neck. 

You internally debated as to whether this was the best or worst situation you’d ever been in. One one hand, you were wrapped in the arms of the man you’d been pining after for months. On the other. . . You couldn’t actually think of any downside. Embarrassment? Possibly. But at least it couldn’t get any worse.

The hotel door swung open, and your fellow crusaders stepped inside, Avdol leading the way. Of course the bathroom door was still wide open, with you still in the lap of a naked Polnareff, who was currently using your body to shield himself from their gaze.

Avdol glanced your way briefly before double-taking. His eyes went wide. “If you must participate in. . . whatever you are currently doing, please have the decency to close the door or get a different room.” 

You scrambled to get up, but Jean’s grip on your body remained. “What do you think you’re doing?" you hissed.

“I would very much like to avoid exposing myself!” he shot back.

“Well I’d very much like it if I wasn’t forced to be your human shield! Plus, I can feel your dick poking me!” Silently, Avdol shut the door. He was not about to continue to bear witness to the scene before him. Whatever was happening, he did not want to be a part of it.

Jean finally loosened his grip, and you rushed upwards, grabbing a towel off the rack and tossing it to him. “I am never checking on you again,” you panted, cheeks burning as you tried desperately to forget the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. “Now the rest of them think we’ve got some weird voyeurism thing going on! This is not how I wanted to see you naked!” you blurted out. 

He stifled a laugh, standing as he wrapped the towel around his waist. The white fabric did little to mask his nude form. “You wanted to see me naked? Oh, mon ange, I am flattered, but you could have simply asked.”

“Oh, God. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I meant that—” there was no getting out of this one. In a panic, you just admitted your attraction, and you knew damn well he wasn’t going to let it go. “Look. I am attracted to you. Okay? But I don’t want that to impact our current friendship or the group as a whole and—”

He closed the distance between the two of you, pushing you against the bathroom wall. A large hand reached to caress your burning cheeks. They mimicked his own red visage, which looked suddenly serious. “I swear I am serious when I say this—I have felt the same way, but never had the confidence to confess. Knowing my bad luck, it wouldn’t have worked out in my favor. But now that I know the feelings are mutual . . I am afraid I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist.”

Your entire body was frozen, eyes staring at his own blue ones, looking for any kind of laughter or jest. You saw only passion. “Jean. . .” you whispered. “Just don’t break my heart. Okay?”

“Never, mon cherie, never.”

He closed the gap, lips pressing against your own.

[krethes]

Snippet Tag!

This is a sneak peek at Chapter 8 of Neon Moon. Writing this section was something I went back and forth on, because unlike most of what I write: I've introduced some characters that are directly from my life. See if you can guess who. (It's not hard.)

An enormous dog stood amid the grazing cattle, occasionally looking around but ignoring the horses and their humans. "Wait! Whose dog is that?" Sirius was pretty sure he'd never seen that one before. The ones he'd seen were small, sleek things: fast and agile. The dog there was big: tall and broad, with thick sable fur, a mane-like ruff, and a tail that curled over his back.  "Oh him?" Remus smiled. "That's Carrot. He's one of ours. But he's a livestock guardian so he doesn't really do the house dog life like this pampered girl," he explained with a nod at Marea, still balanced comfortably on the rolled up blanket behind Az's saddle.  "Guardian? What's he guarding against?" Mary asked, looking around for any apparent danger. "Bears?" "Well, yeah, actually." "Wait, what-" "Let him finish, Mary!" Lily chided.  Remus just shrugged. "There are bears and mountain lions and cougars out here, plus some coyotes and there's been some wolf sightings lately. Haven't seen any myself and they're mainly up in Tahoe, but urban sprawl has 'em coming down this way more and more." Sirius looked back out at the dog, who finally looked at them, and when he locked eyes with Remus, he wagged his tail and slowly ambled up to their little band. "Can I pet him?" Remus laughed. "He's prob'ly gross as hell, but have at it. He doesn't do any tricks, though. When he's not havin' to make his own decisions out here, he gives all his braincells to his brother Vimes, who should be around here- ah. There he is." Sirius turned to Flo's squeal, where a slightly smaller dog the same color as Carrot was nosing around at her horse's side bag, where Sirius knew the oat cakes were kept.  "Ay, gordo, basta ya!" Remus scolded. The other dog—Vimes—took several steps back, his ears splayed out to the side, and ambled away with one final longing look at the bag. "Sorry 'bout him. He's a fatass. …Affectionately, I guess." Remus rolled his eyes, but hopped off of Az to give both dogs a scratch behind the ears when they came back up to him.   Vimes didn't seem to want anything to do with them now that treats were off the table, but Carrot's tail gave a slow, lazy wag as he submitted to Sirius's petting. His head was soft and a little droopy—from a copperhead snake bite, Remus said—and he was pretty manky, but Sirius wiped the dog grime off on his jeans in a very brave show of manliness.

Some context below the cut. C/W: pet loss

Carrot & Vimes were the first dogs my now-husband and I adopted as a couple together, back in 2013. We went in with the intention to adopt ONLY Carrot (then called Pecan) but when we saw him running around with his littermate Vimes (then called Mesquite), and ignoring their 4 sisters, we couldn't say no. It was a dumb idea because lol littermate syndrome and lol college schedules, but we loved the hell out of these dogs.

Before we'd gotten them, Carrot had been bitten TWICE by a copperhead in the face (didn't learn the first time I guess), they'd had sarcoptic mange, and had been skunked twice and put under two rabies quarantines. Carrot's face was always a little droopy.

He was my heart dog. Stupid as fuck, good god...not an intelligent thought in there, but he was a loving, protective, wall of a dog at 110 pounds and nearly 3 feet at the shoulder. A DNA test said they were Great Pyrenees, Newfoundland, White Swiss Shepherd, and a whole lotta "we dunno, mixed breed", and Carrot looked just like a Pyr who had been dipped in some German Shepherd paint.

He passed away last August, right around the time I was writing Chapter 1 of Neon Moon. He was nearly 10, so definitely a senior citizen for a giant breed, and I still miss the hell out of him. Vimes is still alive and kickin', diabetes and blindness be damned, lol.

In the photo, Carrot is on the left and his grumpy brother Vimes on the right.

It feels apt to say that those who love us never really leave us, and I hope that by sharing a little bit of this dog with y'all, he can continue to be remembered in the hearts of my readers.

[dandelion-wings]

I honestly think I would buy Genesis Crystals if they were just a little cheaper. I've always had a gaming budget for F2P games, at a set $20 a month. On Flight Rising that was about enough to get you a premium scroll or two; in ESO I just paid for ESO Plus whenever I was playing enough for it to be worth it; in Pokemon Go that gets me super incubators and sometimes a few remote raid passes. In Genshin, that gets me... less than a ten-roll.

If I could pay $15 or $20 for a ten-roll, I would do it once a month or so! Once every other month, maybe, since if I max out the battle pass in a BP period I go ahead and spend $10 for the premium half of it and I've been doing that a lot lately. Sometimes I get the Welkin Moon, which is frankly a way better deal than the $15-dollar crystal package, but I dislike the FOMO feeling of having to log in to get the benefit (it's the same reason I was intermittent about ESO Plus and rarely play subscription games in general). And I've spent once each to get crystals for Jean and Ayaka's special outfits. But like, if $15 got me an easily parse-able, useful amount of primogens, if it was just a flat 1600 crystals, I would probably be giving Hoyo more money, on a more regular basis, than just the-battle-pass-when-I-max-it and this-is-my-birthday-month-so-let's-get-a-Welkin.

I'm sure there's some kind of psychology behind it that makes the not-as-parse-able numbers more useful when getting people with bigger budgets than I have to buy them. But my budget's still sitting here at that $20 a month, divided with Pokemon Go, and right now Niantic is getting much more benefit of it than Hoyo is, because Niantic makes their coin packages much more directly and immediately worthwhile than the crystals.

[bogusfilth]

Mais voyons d'abord quelques haïku japonais. Dans cette forme de poésie aussi, le poète recrée un moment de saisissement qu'il a connu. La brièveté de la forme cache la subtilité des moyens qu'il emploie pour cela. Exemple:

Repiqueses! Un corbeau s'intéresse à vos casse-croûte!            Shiki (1866-1902)

La scène qui s’est gravée dans la mémoire du poète n’a duré qu’un instant: un corbeau s’est posé près de provisions laissées sur une diguette par des paysannes occupées à repiquer leur riz. Le corbeau s’en est approché d’un ou deux petits sauts drolatiques (les corbeaux sont drolatiques au Japon), il va s’y attaquer. Le cri du témoin avertit les paysannes du danger, mais elles ne verront pa la scène: le corbeau réagit le premier et détale à tire d’ailes. elles se redressent, mais l’instant n'est plus. le témoin a surpris ce que personne n'était censé voir. on peut imaginer qu’il a jubilé un instant l'idée du pouvoir qu’il avait de révéler aux repiqueuses ce qui passait à leur insu - ou de les laisser dans l’ignorance. on peut imaginer qu’il s’est amusé à l'idée de leur signaler sa propre présence, non pas directement, mais en les rendant attentives à l’effronterie du corbeau. L'enchaînement a été si rapide qu’il n’est saisi qu'après coup. tout se passe comme si le réel ne pouvait être appréhendé sans une sorte de décalage et de retard.

But first let us look at some Japanese Haiku. In this form of poetry too, the poet recreates a moment of being seized upon that they have encountered. The brevity of the form hides the subtlety of the means that they employ to this end. Example:

Rice planters! A crow has taken interest in your lunch         Shiki (1866 - 1902)

The scene which has etched itself in the memory of the poet lasts no more than an instant: a crow stations himself near the provisions left on an embankment by the peasants, busy replanting their rice. The crow approaches with one or two amusing little hops (crows are humorous in Japan), about to strike. The cry of the witness warns the peasants of the danger, but they will never see the scene: the crow reacts first and decamps with a flap of its wings. They stand upright, but the moment is no more. The witness had caught by surprise that which no one was meant to see. We can imagine that he had exalted for a moment in the idea of the power he had to reveal to the rice planters that which went on unbeknownst to them - or to leave them in ignorance. We can imagine that he had amused himself with the notion of signaling his own presence, not directly, but in making them aware of the impudence of the crow. The tumbling concatenation of events was so rapid that it was not seized until after the fact. Everything happens as if the real could not be apprehended without a kind of interval and lateness.

Jean-François Billeter, Quatre essais sur la traduction, translation my own

[infallible-dreamers]

Against a rule set for us by time

“We all have our time machines. Those that take us back are memories. Those that carry us forward are dreams.” - H.G. Wells, The Time Machine Michael Guerin never had the best timing. One day he discovers a strange device that gives him the ability to move through time. He only realises the potential when he saves a stoic classmate, Alex Manes. As Michael begins to get to know Alex better, he begins to realise time itself is a consequence of their choices. The future may not be as set or as inescapable as either of them hoped.

I’m so happy to finally be able to share my story for @rnmbb. Featuring art by the talented @bydayornight. And beta-read by the wonderful @purplehoodiesandleatherjackets

Read it on AO3.

Michael was late yet again. 

It wasn’t even his fault this time. He might have snoozed his phone like he did everyone morning, but was still able to throw on his dark flannel and jeans, and run a hand through his messy curls in less than two minutes, all with enough time to make the drive to school.

However it was the universe that was never in his favour and Michael was ultimately delayed because he had to spend the better part of the morning trying to fix his beaten down pick-up truck. 

“You should just sell it.” 

He had heard Max say it countless times since he’d bought it. He would encourage him to save up for something better as if it was that easy, and in the meantime just swallow his pride and accept their offer for a ride. He could never get rid of it, though, it was the one possession that he truly owned. He had worked long hot, summers at the auto yard to save for it, and if the engine didn’t stall occasionally, would it have even been his truck? 

After some time, he’d finally heard the lovely splutter of the engine before it burst into life. 

He skipped the shower, opting to just wash the grease of his hands and go. 

He should’ve skipped class instead, but Isobel had sent more than one worried text to him and he knew that he was going to get an earful, plus it was AP calc, and he had some rapport with their teacher only because he did well in the subject. Michael hadn’t tested how far that empathy would stretch if he was late to class, now had to be a good time. When he arrived, he looked through the small panel beside the classroom door. The teacher was distracted, reading a graphic novel as students worked out of their textbooks. Feeling he could risk it, he quietly opened the door and slipped into his seat.

When Mr. Harris looked directly at the latecomer and continued reading without paying him any further regard, his shoulders finally relaxed and he turned, giving a quick wink to Alex Manes in the seat behind, the one witness to his heroic feat. Alex just rolled his eyes, clearly not as impressed as Michael was.

Isobel on the other hand was impressed:  ‘Lucky!’ His phone reverberated with a message tone.  Michael glared towards the other end of the classroom, where Isobel mouthed an apology as she hung her head to hide her giggling. Michael did hear the stifled laugh from behind him as well, one of the few reactions he’s ever gotten from the quiet emo kid. 

“Mr. Guerin, if you’re not going to come on time, the least you could do is silence your phone.” 

He should have just skipped today.

Read the rest on AO3