#like Marley twists or something

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

.

[alkalineleak]

the beasts are biting at my feet again (designing a personal ref for dakota means i have to figure out his hair)

[sayoneee]

☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual. 

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song. 

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night. 

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you. 

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.  

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin. 

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin. 

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge. 

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness. 

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship. 

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange. 

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things. 

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you. 

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red. 

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[orbitariums]

( in the accent of a suburban blk girlie ) dhmu just thinking ab being art and patrick's joint pretty little thing and they're both like hah ! art/patrick could never score a girl like this, she's different from every woman ive ever met ( black as hell, boujie as hell, BUILT as hell ), he doesn't have it like me. and then all of a sudden they both find themselves at a mostly black club she frequents and posts ab on myspace a lot and they both find themselves giving her flirty, llustful looks across the dance floor at her, go to give eachother a 'hah you could never pull all that' look and realize they're both doing the same thing and then realizing that you could pull any little frat-esque, trust funded white boy you wanted and they LOCK TF IN on proving they could treat and fuck you best

- 🎹

all that | artrick + black reader

literally obsessed with this request piano anon ... thissss is universe-building and i LOVEEEE to cross cultures >:-) also, made this playlist to fit the vibe (tried to keep it 2006 themed but haddd to throw some cash cobain in there — his new album is also perfect to listen to for this)

contains: a FINE black GYAL, art + patrick feening they ain't never BEEN with a baddie, smut: fingering, oral (f! receiving), threesome i realize i could've made this a drabble but i'm a writer. so imma write. so i hope y'all fw this! word count: 7.7k and not proofread

It's giving Stanford era Art and Patrick — Art feels like he has dibs on you because he met you first and takes a few classes with you. Unlike Patrick, Art prides himself on being your friend — even though you've really only interacted through class projects, and Art hardly has the courage to talk to you outside of class.

You're different from anybody Art or Patrick have wanted in the past. Stanford opened up a door to a whole new world for them — a world outside of rich white girls who spent their summers in the Hamptons or elite tennis camps. and you were the key holder. you were hands-down the most stunning girl they'd ever seen. For Art, it was the Marley twists that reached your butt (a staple hairstyle of yours when you weren't rotating from lace fronts to sew-ins to natural), the way your brown eyes glimmered when a ray of sun shone over you through the window.

For Patrick it was your lips, thick and glossy or perfectly painted with a brown lip combo — gawking at you in the cafeteria when he visits and watching you reapply your lip gloss after you eat might be his favorite pastime.

Once, Patrick literally groaned, throwing his head back with a hand on his forehead when you bent over to pick up your lip liner, then readjusted your jeans and did that little jump trying to fit your ass properly back in the pants. Art couldn't even call him out on it because it took everything in him to hold back a whimper.

Your skin was supple and a rich brown, soft like a pillow they wanted to sink into. everything about you was something to admire — your laugh, the certainty in your voice whenever you spoke, your graceful yet assertive demeanor. You knew who you were, and that was something lacking from all the Sarahs and Kaylors and Brittanys they had been with. And, satisfying their basest desires, was your stallion body. tall, thick, and fit.

"She's so pretty," Art blinked slowly, the two of them watching you from a distance in the library as you gathered with a group of friends, standing around a table and giggling softly.

"Her ass is so fat. I've never seen anything like that shit before," Patrick murmured, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were concerned— really he was just incredulous.

A beat as Art swallowed hard, clenching his jaw. Ignoring the way his pants grew tighter. Patrick doing the same.

"Yeah," he exhaled after a moment of silence and low-eyed ogling from the two of them.

It was weeks of that — just gawking at you and getting themselves worked up thinking about you. At that point, there was more sexual tension between Art and Patrick than either of the two lusting boys had managed to work up with you. Tashi found their fantasizing aggravating and berated them for not just going up to you and talking to you — secretly, Art and Patrick praised the fact that Tashi has a girlfriend, otherwise she'd be competition too.

Art practically fainted when he saw you in the hallway talking to Patrick— Patrick leaning against the wall with his hand just above his head, towering over you with the confidence of a sly dog. He could just make out the murmurs of your conversation, the warm ringing of your laugh, Patrick's flirtatious chuckling overlapping just a few seconds later. He was laying it on thick, and Art felt like he might go into cardiac arrest with how angry he was.

Art strode up to the two of you with determination, slowing down once he gets closer so he doesn't come off as defensive as he felt. He gave Patrick an icy, tight-lipped grin that made Patrick smirk ever-so-slightly, his eyes wandering to some spot just above Art's head.

"Pat," Art bleated. He turned to you, his eyes softening along with his brain and everything else in his body except his dick. He smiled gently, locking eyes with you. "YN. It's nice to see you. I'm Art, by the way."

You shook your head and chuckled, one of your braids drifting over your shoulder. You pushed it back, and Art and Patrick went numb at the simple maneuver. You bit down softly on your bottom lip, grinning bemusedly,

"I know who you are. We did like two chem projects together, don't you remember?"

"Yeah, remember?" Patrick echoed, glancing over smugly at Art, who was too enamored by you to side-eye Patrick in return.

"Yeah. Yeah of course I remember. You were the backbone of our projects," Art trailed off into a genuine laugh, one full of appreciation.

"Well, I am pre-med, so," a slight laugh bubbled up in your throat and it was so attractive and confident, Art couldn't help but grin at you dazedly.

"Smart girl," Patrick inserted himself, catching your eye as soon as you turned your head to him again.

You didn't miss the way he held eye contact, the way he was so comfortable giving you a name to hold on to, like it was something he was used to doing with you. There's some sort of intimacy to a nickname like that, suggesting something provocative yet impossible to name. You're well aware of the fact that they're both attracted to you — you couldn't possibly miss them staring at you even when you knew they thought they were being discreet.

Seeing them now, up close and personal, finally actually talking to you instead of checking you out and avoiding eye contact, you saw their strategies, their archetypes. Art, the charming and unassuming rabbit — assumed timid by most but smart and eventually crafty — and Patrick, the rakish, bold fox, unabashed in his cunning and willing to show out. Both types that you'd seen before, but not quite in this form. And both intrigued you deeply. You, the snake. Letting them have their glory in this game now, but plotting just how you would leer over them soon enough, evaluating your prey.

"Gotta be. I only get one chance," you replied to Patrick's comment.

You could tell he was used to having girls stuck, and you weren't that type. But with you, their eagerness and need to prove themselves was strong right away.

You could tell they were trying to figure out what to say. You figured they were used to girls giggling and blushing over them. Maybe they expected a thank you, complete with hair twirling and bashfulness, like you didn't already know you were smart, fine, and everything in between.

"Mkay," you hummed, smiling precociously up at them. "I'm gonna hit the library, got a bio exam next week. I'll see you both later?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll see us," Art assured you immediately, on top of Patrick drawling,

"We'll be on the lookout."

You chuckled, giving them one last look over your lashes before you turned around. You could feel their eyes on you as they left, tracking all the way down to your hips which swayed as you walked.

They watched you like that all the way out the double doors, in a trance. When the door finally closed, Art swiveled on his feet and jabbed Patrick in the shoulder, walking off dramatically. Patrick caught up to him quickly.

"What the fuck? What's that for?" he whined.

"What the hell man, you can't just talk to her," Art frowned.

Patrick paused, staring at Art like he was a middle schooler,

"I just did. Besides, it's not like you were talking to her anyway, I did us both a favor."

Art knew he was being petulant but he couldn't himself — he didn't mind admiring you with Patrick, but sharing you was a whole 'nother thing. He wasn't ready to admit that the thought turned him on, and the attraction was still fresh enough that he was possessive. Maybe the doors would open once he knew he could get you.

"Yeah, well I was gonna."

"Ha!" Patrick barked out a cold laugh. "Like that'd get you anywhere."

"Fuck does that mean?" Art scoffed, glaring at his best friend and lamenting the luscious mop of overgrown dark curls brushing against his forehead.

Patrick tapped the underbrim of Art's red hat, which Art quickly readjusted,

"Look at you. You're dressed like a skinny white cuck. You don't even know what to do with all that." Patrick was growing more and more defensive and loud by the minute. He shook his head and glared off into the distance like he was thinking of just how he'd handle "all that," then continued. "She wants a big dog."

Art actually laughed — he genuinely doubled over laughing, and Patrick marched along while Art was cackling a few feet behind. He caught up to Patrick, red in the face,

"And you're a big dog? You're a rich white Jew from Rochester, New York."

Patrick smirked, like he knew something Art didn't — but when does he not know everything before Art has even gotten a hint? Or at least, he pretends to know everything. Art wasn't sure if it was too late to come out from under Patrick's wing, it's all he knew.

"Exactly," Patrick responded quietly.

Art, miffed but trying not to show it, switched the trajectory of the conversation and shook his head. He offered the first reality check ever since this little crush had formed,

"Don't sound too sure of yourself. I don't think either of us are her type."

"C'mon Art, don't be racist. You think she only likes black guys?"

Art was ruffled— he retorted,

"I didn't say that!"

"Whatever, I got her Myspace. I'll give it to you so you can stalk her but don't actually follow her like a creep. You're welcome, dumbass. You can thank me for bringing you a step forward from jerking your tiny little dick while you think of her alone in your dorm room."

How the fuck did he get her Myspace?

| | |

Patrick was back again by next week, fooling around on the computer while Art laid back on his bed and bounced a tennis ball against the ceiling.

"Oh shit," Patrick muttered to himself, a toothpick wiggling in the corner of his mouth. Art perked up, sitting up on his elbows.

"What?"

"Come look," Patrick waved Art over.

On the computer screen was your Myspace, which you just updated few minutes ago.

[ YN ] Can't wait to hit up Nebula later tonight!

"What's Nebula?" Art asked, his voice quiet and curious as he squinted at the glowing screen.

Patrick wordlessly pulled up another tab and typed up Nebula. It was a club a few miles north of campus. It had no description but a bunch of pictures. It was different from what they were used to — frat parties consisting of fist bumping and neon necklaces, a sea of white crashed against the floor and someone shotgunning a can of Budweiser. Instead, they're looking at photos of a nightclub with flashy lights and graffiti decor, and not a single hint of white — at least, not in any of the pictures. But it looks busy, and as far as they can tell, it actually looks fun.

Patrick and Art scanned the page of images meticulously, it was like their brains were reconfiguring. After some time, they both speak at once:

"Should we go?"

"We're fucking going."

The boys spent the next few hours getting ready. Or at least, Art did. Patrick didn't have a change of clothes, so he was going as he was — untucked Ralph polo, khaki shorts and all. Art on the other hand, showered and rotated through multiple outfits. By his third shirt, Patrick was fatigued,

"What are you doing?"

Art held up a white t-shirt to the mirror and angled it against his body,

"I don't wanna show up looking like an asshole. Look at you, what are you wearing?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Patrick griped, though he did a double take at himself behind Art in the mirror.

"Did you not see how everyone was dressed in the pictures? We're gonna look like idiots if we show up like a bunch of tennis douchebags," Art retorted, finally deciding on a white shirt and ripped blue jeans.

"We are tennis douchebags," Patrick said to himself. "Got a pair of black jeans I can wear?"

Art smirked wordlessly, throwing a pair over to Patrick.

The club is packed, to say the least. But it's huge. The bouncer took a long, hard look at the two boys before graciously deciding to let them in. They did look painfully out of place — the club seemed not to have a white person in sight for miles. They were tokens here, not oblivious to the curious looks and outright glares. Chingy's Right Thurr was blasting from the club speakers, booming over the sound of Air Force 1s and chunky heels scuffling across the floor. Art and Patrick stood in the front, taking in the view of the dance floor like a pair of birds overlooking the sea from the shore.

"What if she's not even here?" Art muttered.

"She's here dude, trust me. No way she's staying in on a Friday night after exams and this is clearly the place to go," Patrick shouted over the music. The two silently scanned over the crowd, desperate to pick her out in a sea of people. Then, Patrick laid eyes on her. He jabbed Art's side, who immediately snapped his vision to focus on you, so far away on the dance floor, unaware of their presence.

You were in a tight-fitting short pink dress that hugged every inch of your body — it seemed like it was made for you. Your tits sat pretty and your ass jiggled with even the slightest move. Your brown skin glinted under the flashing lights, and reflections shimmered off of your golden bracelets. You were with a group of friends, laughing and rolling your body to the beat, hips swaying with the motion of water. Patrick and Art were absolutely stuck, staring at you with dry mouths.

"Fuck," Art mouthed, and Patrick found his lips pulled beneath his teeth.

You didn't have a care in the world. You weren't drunk, but you had a few drinks in you and the bass was thudding against your eardrums just right. And you knew you looked good. Everything felt right — but the last thing you expected to see when you turned your head was two white boys, especially not two white boys who you knew. They seemed to realize that they were caught once you made eye contact with them, squinting at first in confusion.

Then, you saw it, the lustful look in both of their eyes. Patrick was unabashedly checking you out — you were sure he was doing it before, but now it was like he wanted you to know. And Art had this look in his eyes, so deep and watchful that you could tell he was simply drinking you in. Arms tucked over his chest, his tongue swiping slowly over his lip.

You giggled, returning their gazes with a subtly flirtatious cock of your head, and a bemused grin. Patrick smiled and nodded, and Art cocked his head in unison with you. Like he was playing. And you liked this game. You turned to your friends for just a moment and quickly excused yourself, then turned back to face the two boys, glancing towards the bar.

You didn't wait for them, just started slowly sauntering over, knowing they would follow you.

Once you broke their gaze, they turned to each other, smirking. On the one hand, they knew they had an in. But they were challenging each other too, with a competitive spark in their eyes that said, "you wish."

They rushed over to the bar, practically skidding across the bar and even bumping into each other. They got there just seconds before you did, still catching their breaths by the time you got close enough. Before you could even open your mouth, both of them were panting. In unison, they spouted,

"Hey—"

"Hi."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

They glared at each other, and you laughed, shaking your head. They were practically brothers, the way they were so in sync with each other and seemed to bounce off of one another. It was fun analyzing their characters, and even more fun because they were trust fund babies without a care in the world, and you couldn't be any more different. But one thing was for certain — you could get anything from them.

"That's y'all's favorite question, isn't it?" you grinned up at them slowly, batting your lashes.

They both laughed weakly, not used to being called out so bluntly. They were so set on having you, but now that you were in front of them, it was clear you made the rules. The way you assessed them both silently, letting your eyes observe the both of them from head to toe, slowly but surely, they had no choice but to stand at your feet.

"How about this," you started, and they perked up like dogs, hanging on to your every word. "Whoever guesses my drink of choice can buy me a drink."

"Sex on the beach," Patrick blurted, mainly because he was thinking about sex.

"Vodka cran?" Art offered hesitantly.

You squint at them, shaking your head.

"Cognac, neat."

Patrick snorted, and you looked over at him with a curious grin. He explained himself,

"Sorry, it's just... that's dark liquor."

"Duh. I don't waste my money on watered down cocktails." A pause. "So...?"

They fought to get drinks, but ultimately, Art was the one who flagged the bartender down first. You told them that you should talk somewhere a bit more quiet, and led them to a couch beneath the stairs, where the music was slightly muffled. You knew that their eyes were on you as you were walking, you could tell by the way they went silent while behind you.

You sat between them on the couch, one leg over the other. Both their mouths went dry over the sight of your thigh pooling and expanding as you placed it on top of your other one. Your brown skin contrasted deliciously with the pink fabric of your dress.

You sipped your drink and leaned back just a bit against the couch. Basking in their intent eye contact.

"So," you smirked.

"So..." Patrick grinned at you, unafraid to show all his teeth.

You glance between the two of them,

"It's your first time here, isn't it?"

"Whaaat?" Patrick feigned offense, shaking his head and waving his hand. He sips his drink, leaning back just a bit to align his body more with yours. "Psshh, no, we come here all the time."

"Really?" you challenged him, and he just nodded silently with that fucking smirk on his face, his eyes boring into yours with an impish sparkle. "'Cuz I come here all the time, and I haven't seen you two before. Like, ever."

"Guess you weren't looking for us hard enough," in comes Art, quiet as ever but still so strikingly present — it's impossible to forget him, the way he sneaks up on you every time with some suggestive comment or smart remark.

You turned your head towards him now, your smile growing bigger by the minute, thoroughly enthralled by this delicious dialogue.

"Oh, I should be looking for you two?'' you raised your chin up, humored.

"Nah, but I mean... you might find something you like," Patrick replied, coolly as ever, never looking away from you even when you weren't looking at him. It was how you found yourself face to face with him when you turned your head away from Art.

"Yeah? And what's that?" you mastered your most innocent voice possible, rubbing your glossy lips together. Patrick's eyes lowered down to your lips, and he let them stay there for a while before he spoke again,

"You gonna let us find out what you like?"

No smirk this time, accompanied by unshaken eye contact. It got your heart jumping, but you played it cool, chuckling and sipping your drink,

"Y'all play too much."

"Who says we're playing?" Art interjected then, and you're met with a charming, slow-appearing smile.

“Messy. You usually have the same taste in girls?"

"I mean, yeah, we do," the boys glanced at each other and nodded good-naturedly as if assessing the question together before providing you with an answer. "But you're just... better," Art replied, and Patrick nodded.

"Better? Better how?"

"I mean... you're incredibly sexy," Patrick said as if it were self-explanatory.

"Yeah? Tell me more," you bared your teeth in a slick-mouthed smile, leaning your chin on your hand and blinking softly up at Patrick. You turned your head slowly when Art spoke.

"Your lips. They look soft," he licked his lips when you looked at him. It was like he was a completely different entity now, shrouded by the thick cloud of desire he had for you. His voice had dropped an octave lower and his lids seemed heavier. He took a sip of Cognac and leaned back just a tad.

"Got a pretty voice," you turned this time to Patrick, whose lips were turning up in a slow smile, his teeth glinting in the dark club.

"Beautiful eyes," now Art — you knew you had them right around your finger but they were proving to be more than you'd bargained for — you wondered how often they moved like this to a girl, together.

"Your body's absolutely insane," Patrick divulged.

"Personality takes the cake, too," Art chimes in.

By the time they'd finished, it felt like they were inches closer to you, encasing you in their body heat. And they had inched closer to you, the both of them cocking their head in your direction, studying your face. It all felt so practiced, yet natural. They knew just what they were doing, and that's why you didn't move a muscle. But you'd be lying if you said it didn't have an effect on you.

You didn't reply, you just sat back and slowly swallowed down the rest of your drink. All eyes were on you, the boys both leaning back against the couch and just admiring you. You set the glass down on the table in front of you and got up to stand, wiggling your dress down to readjust it.

"Let's dance."

That's how you found yourself sandwiched between Art and Patrick while a song by Miguel played. Your breaths, hot and smelling of liquor, floated against each other, bodies pressed into yours. Patrick was behind you with his hands on your waist, towering over you and looking down at you in awe. He kept it respectful, but you could feel him against your ass, poking through his ripped black jeans. Art was in front of you, your arms around his neck, just inches of space between all of you. The club was dark bar for a strobe light rotating across your faces periodically, so you could hardly see the desire in their eyes, but you could feel it. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of the song and let your head fall back against Patrick's shoulder, swaying your whole body now. Art was pressed into you, his face dipping into your neck. He nearly whimpered— you smelled like caramelized vanilla and a hint of coconut oil. He imagined you lathering your damp body in creams and oils after getting out of the shower, and had to fight an erection from forming directly against you. Meanwhile, Patrick was already half-hard.

All they felt was bliss — Patrick had more of a sense of certainty that the night would end up somewhat like this, but Art doubted they'd even be able to find you. You could sense the way they held back, waiting for you to shut it down or take it an inch further. You paused when you felt your cellphone vibrate in your purse. You pulled away gracefully from Art and Patrick, who stood there dumbly waiting for you to pull them back in. You grinned when you read the text from your friends, who knew of your whereabouts, telling you to pull up to Alicia's apartment for afters, and "bring your little white boys."

You let the boys usher you out of the club, Art with his hand on your waist trailing behind you, and Patrick taking your hand as he pushed through the crowd and out the door.

"You smell amazing," Art mentioned the minute the fresh air hit you, re-surging the scent that drove him near ballistic in the club.

You giggled at Art's sudden outburst, and the genuine admiration in his tone,

"Thank you, babe. Now, are y'all good to drive?"

| | |

Alicia's apartment was huge — her dad paid for everything, to say the least. The moment you walked in, Alicia, Nessa and Tiana crowded around you, squealing and ooh-ing and aah-ing over Patrick and Art.

"This your lil shit right here? Go head, then YN," Tiana stuck her tongue out raucously and you shook your head, laughing.

Before you knew it, you were pouring shots of Hennessy down each other's throats, playing a vicious game of Uno, and blasting Me & U by Cassie. Art and Patrick had some settling in to do at first, since they weren't used to being around mostly black girls — the most fun they knew how to have at parties was fist-bumping to dubstep. But they fit right in, and your friends had no trouble making them feel welcome. As the night went on, you lost some of that mysterious enigma, but it didn't make them want you any less.

Art nearly melted beneath you when you stood up above him and poured Ciroc down his throat, holding his chin up with your fresh French tips. Patrick was next, putting on a brave face, unwavering against the screeches and pointing from your friends. He made sure to keep eye contact with you, swallowing boisterously with an "ahh!" sound, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You grinned and took a swig yourself, then ran to your friends to dance with them, swaying your hips and shaking your ass in a way they hadn't seen just yet. It was like they weren't even there, it was just about you and your friends now.

"Fuck, man," Patrick blinked slow, standing beside Art just feet away from you.

Art ran his hands through his hair, in disbelief at the way your ass moved in your dress,

"I'm gonna be honest, Pat. I don't think either of us could handle that."

For the first time, Patrick nodded, wordlessly agreeing.

It didn't take long for your friends to disperse about the apartment, most of them heading out to the balcony to smoke. You decided to stay behind inside ("For your guests, right?" Nessa had snickered, smirking over at Art and Patrick).

"Are you bored to death yet? You're the only two dudes here," you sauntered over to the two boys, who were leaning against the kitchen counter. All three of you were just a bit more than tipsy, eyes bleared over and heat fanned against your cheeks, drifting about in that pleasantly warm dreamscape.

"Bored? You just baby birded both of us with Ciroc," Art guffawed, and you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him with those low, drunk eyes,

"Yeah, you want more?"

"I want whatever you have to give me," Art replied with quickness, simply entranced by your eyes and that sweet voice. You chuckled, shaking your head.

A smattering of shrieking sounded from outside on the balcony. You scoffed, swiping a joint that Alicia had rolled from off the kitchen table. You started walking down the hall, back faced to them as you said,

"They're so loud. Let's go somewhere quieter."

Art and Patrick both gave each other a glance— they weren't sure if the night would ever actually come to this, but still they didn't quite know what to expect. All they knew was that whether or not either of them could "pull" you, you were the one in charge. Your hips swung more freely from side to side as you walked loosened by the Henny and Ciroc concoctions of the night. Art and Patrick's eyes were like pendulums following your hips.

You turned into the guest bedroom, plopping down onto the bed.

"Close the door," you gestured to Art. Heart pounding, he closed it behind him.

Art and Patrick stood stupidly in front of you. You shook your head at them, laughing quietly,

"Are y'all gonna sit?"

They might as well have tripped over themselves zooming to sit next to you on the bed, one on either side of you. You had the whole world in your hands. It was silent bar for the muffled R&B music from outside. For boys who were so flirtatious, they were awfully quiet now. You shifted to place your legs underneath you, sitting on your knees, your dress riding up your thighs just so. If they looked behind you, they'd see your ass poking out a bit too.

"So. Who's idea was it, hmm?" you hummed. "I mean, you must've wanted to come find me. I'm impressed."

You lit the joint, pressing it to your lips.

"Saw your Myspace post. Thought we'd keep you company," Patrick admitted, coolly as ever, though you saw the bulge forming in his jeans, saw the way his eyes drifted down to your lips around the joint.

You tossed your head back to exhale, giggling up at the ceiling and covering your mouth with your hand.

"You thought you'd keep me company. Y'all are too good."

You passed the joint over to Art, who took a drag and exhaled while keeping it perched in the corner of his mouth, voice half-muffled as he continued,

"We just wanted to make sure you weren't lonely, that's all."

"Yeah," Patrick took the joint from Art, doing the same. "Since you don't have a boyfriend or anything."

This time, Patrick lifted the joint up to your lips for you. You leaned into it, slowly wrapping your lips around it and sucking for just a second longer than you usually would, never breaking eye contact while Patrick's smirk grew wider and wider with each passing second. You blew the smoke out and it fanned against his face.

"And how would you two know if I don't have a boyfriend?"

Art sniffed, humored, as you passed the joint to him. It was starting to hit now — a haze rose up just so slightly in the air. You relaxed into it, feeling emboldened.

"Don't think we'd be here if you did," Art shot back.

You snaked forward, taking the joint from Art's lips and putting it to your own. He let out a sharp breath at the casual dominance such an action exuded. Your face was just inches away from his— you didn't know if it was the weed, or how turned on you were after exercising the utmost self-control for the better part of the night, but you noticed that his eyes had such a gleaming strike of blue in them.

"Think you got me, is that it?" you questioned, so close to Art that if you inched any further, your nose would brush against his. He swallowed, unsure of whether he should be turned on or scared, but either way, his pants were getting tighter. Your voice was so tantalizingly quiet as if you were sharing a secret just for him and Patrick. You huffed out a humored breath. "I'm not gonna fuck you, you know."

The way you were looking at him begged to differ. You felt the strap of your dress slide down ever so gently over your left shoulder. Before you could push it up, Patrick's hand, strong and firm, was grazing against your shoulder, pushing your dress strap up. You let your gaze on Art linger for just a moment longer before you turned to Patrick, smirking. You handed him the joint, which had gone out. He placed it on the bed beside him. You were leaning in, an unmistakably seductive twinkle in your eyes as you got even closer to Patrick, murmuring under your breath,

"'M not gonna fuck you either."

“Not gonna fuck me?” Patrick smirked, looking from your hazey eyes to your lips. You pressed your lips into his, letting your eyes flutter closed as you hummed your response into his mouth,

“Mm-mm.”

A slight breath escaped Patrick, keeping his mouth open so you could slip your tongue against his. Patrick kissed you hard and slow, his hands immediately wrapping around your back as you lifted your leg over his lap and straddled him. You could feel how much he’d been wanting this by the way his tongue curved effortlessly against yours and his grip on your hips got stronger. He kissed the way he talked. Rough and hard, but with effortless ease, like he knew exactly what you liked. Maybe it was his confidence that made the kiss so good, his lips locked in perfectly with yours. You reached behind, pulling Art in as you simultaneously pushed Patrick down so his back was against the mattress. 

You pulled away from Patrick and in one fluid motion turned your head to kiss him, letting your hand wrap against his neck and run up through his hair. Patrick, who was watching from the pillow, groaned and let his head fall against the pillow. Art kissed you needily, but gentler than Patrick. He kissed you like he was parched and your lips were a fountain of water found in a barren land— like he needed to explore more. As you kissed Art, you felt Patrick’s hands kneading your ass, and you moaned — which made them both moan. It took everything in Patrick not to just lift your dress over your ass. But you must have been reading his mind because you wiggled your dress over your ass so it was finally exposed. 

“That’s it,” Patrick groaned in approval, his hands finding new purchase against your bare skin, squeezing your ass with a tender grip.

Your kiss with Art grew sloppier, spit threatening to spill out from the side of your mouth as Art pressed himself against you. You let your hand wander down to his black jeans and gripped the hard bulge that was poking out, running your hand up and down it. Patrick, not one to be left behind, took the liberty of lifting your dress a little higher so he could see the black, lacy panties you wore. He let out a low whistle, his firm on your hips grew firmer, keeping them in place as he ground his up into you, rolling up directly against your clit through your underwear. You gasped when you felt how big Patrick was, pulling away from Art to look down at the sight of Patrick’s hips snapping slowly into you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head gently to the side so Art could press his lips against your neck. 

Patrick chuckled, but he was unable to hold back the groan that lodged in his throat. He could feel your clit pulsing through your underwear. 

“Take it off, baby,” you gestured down to Art, who scrambled to take your dress off, throwing it carelessly to the side once it was over your head. Both the boys nearly busted on the spot, because instead of being greeted with a black, lacy bra, your tits simply tumbled out of your dress, perfectly plump and brown and sitting pretty. 

“Oh my god,” Patrick groaned at the sight of your tits above him. He sat up immediately, attaching his mouth immediately to your tits. Art, a whimpering mess by this point, followed quickly, his lips wrapping around your stiff, brown nipple. They both sucked on your tits lasciviously, reserving one for each of them. The lewd sounds of their tongues sucking your plush skin as their hands fondled and squeezed you filled the room. Art was gentle, shifting from reaching a hand underneath your tit and cupping you softly to circling a gentle finger around your nipple. Patrick was more direct, grabbing you with closed hands. 

If you weren’t so turned on, you would honestly giggle at the sight— these two boys who’d been fiending for you for so long, showing you just how long they’d been waiting for this very thing. It was a wonder — the school’s prestigious tennis players who attended every frat party and had enough money to be set for life (Patrick at least), reduced to a melting puddle beneath you. At your beck and call, your mercy, even as the grind of Patrick’s dick against your clit made you soak through the panties. 

You looked down at them with a cunning smile playing on your lips, cupping both their chins softly,

“You’ve been wanting this real bad, haven’t you?”

Two pairs of needy, blissed-out eyes looked up at you immediately, their heads nodding insistently as they moaned around your nipples. You chuckled, your laugh ringing like bells in their ears. You tasted so divine and they hadn’t even tasted you where it really counts. Art decides he wants to get a head start. You felt his hand, his fingers long and spindly, travel down your body, past your soft stomach and down your thigh, until it looped back up to the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, pulling at the stretchy fabric until he let it snap against your waist. 

He pulled away, his lips warm and wet against your ear as he whispered,

“Can I?” 

You bit down on your lip and nodded, gazing at him as he let his hand travel back down until it crept into your panties, never breaking eye contact even as he dipped two fingers against your soaked slit. You trembled at his touch and he smirked, cocking his head gently as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting you on his fingers.

“She tastes so good, Pat, you gotta try,” Art said, leaning down — Patrick, dazed, lifted his head and looked up at Art with glazed-over eyes.

You watched, rendered speechless for the first time that night as Art dipped his fingers back just slightly against you again, and placed them at Patrick’s wanting lips. Patrick sucked the taste of you off Art’s fingers like it was nothing, like he’d done it before and would do it a thousand times more. The sight of him, lifting his head up to meet Art’s fingers, made you stir above him. 

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Patrick practically moaned, his lips hovering at Art’s fingers. He wasn’t even looking at you, still holding Art’s gaze as he dipped his hand into your panties and prodded at your slit, the pad of his finger tapping against all the arousal that’s gathered there, making wet sounds like fat raindrops collecting in a puddle. “She’s so wet already, shit.” He held Art’s gaze for a moment longer before he turned to you. 

“Can we taste you?” Art asked, his voice soft and lilted. 

You lifted yourself off of Patrick’s lap and kneeled between the two of them, taking their shirts off one by one. Art went to take off his cap, You embraced Art in a kiss first, then Patrick, until it was lost on you which was which— it was all a blur, mouths sloppily entangled and meeting in the middle, kissing each other all at once and you were certain Art and Patrick’s lips met more than a few times. Somewhere in the middle, they had pushed you back against the mattress. You whined as their lips suctioned against your body, down down down until they stopped between your thighs.

You couldn’t see whose lips were on you first, but you were sure it was Patrick, the way he dove right in without hesitation and started sucking expertly at your clit. You cried out, your back arching slightly off the bed at the sudden jolt of pleasure from the contact. You saw Patrick’s tuft of black curls right in between your thighs, and Art’s golden-orange locks just beside him, placing chaste kisses on your inner thighs, his hand massaging the plush skin there too. 

Patrick moaned from in between your legs, sending vibrations through your core and up your chest. You relaxed into his touch, pushing his head in and burying your fingers in his curls. He made sure to drag his tongue along every inch of you, pointing it into your slit and thrusting it into you, and flattening his whole tongue against you as he gave kitten licks to your pussy.

His grecian nose poked deliciously against your clit and he used it to his advantage, bobbing his head up and down each time you moaned at the point of contact. He sucked your clit gently with his lips, toyed at your slit with his finger and glanced up at you to gauge your reaction. The moan that fell from your lips as you locked eyes with him from between your legs was almost pornographic, and enough for him to slide one thick finger inside of you. 

You were writhing above him and Art, moaning ever so softly. Your tits were splayed perfectly against your chest and your face was constantly contorted in the sweetest expressions. They’d both imagined you like this, mouth open and eyes rolling back into your head, trapped in bliss. Then another finger, fucking into you deep and slow as he continued lapping up all your arousal, all while Art kissed your thighs with increasing hunger, his once soft kisses becoming wet and crazed. 

“Fuck,” Patrick pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening wet with spit and your arousal. “Art, taste her pussy. Want you to feel what I did to her.”

Art whimpered and assumed position immediately. 

“Wait,” you said, shifting and turning yourself around so you were on your knees, your pussy pulsing right in front of Art’s face while Patrick pulled down his shorts and boxers, wrapping a hand around his shaft and starting to tug slowly, groaning under his breath. Meanwhile, Art’s eyebrows rose up so far he thought they’d get stuck there, his mouth dropping slightly at the sight of your pussy throbbing around nothing, your folds dripping with a mixture of your own arousal and Patrick’s spit. 

You placed your head on the pillow, craning your neck to look back at the two boys. You liked the juxtaposition that was happening — the two of them in full control of your pleasure, while you were granting them the only thing they’d been thinking of for weeks now.

“Oh fuck,” Art whispered to himself, and Patrick chuckled darkly, squeezing the base of his cock. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but their faces in this moment were seared in your mind permanently – Art’s gaze of pure amazement, and Patrick’s wicked smirk snaking across his entire face, glaring down at your pussy. It was enough to make a shiver run down your spine, how readily they consumed you — the feeling of being wanted wasn’t new to you, but with them, it was just… different.  

“Her pussy looks so pretty after it’s been ate, doesn’t it?” Patrick noted to Art, who nodded with a broken whimper before shoving his face into your pussy, his button nose dancing against your clit as he put his tongue to work. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, your head dropping down against the pillow. Art might have been gentler, but that did not mean worse by any means.

If anything, he was passionate, noting every slight movement and sound you made and following in your stead. His tongue lappd against your clit, pleasure climbing up your spine. The new angle had you struggling to keep your legs up, but Patrick was sure to keep you in check.

“This is what you wanted right?” he proclaimed, one hand on your thigh to hold you steady, the other still stroking his cock, a bit faster now. A guttural moan surged from your throat as you nodded weakly. “Yeah? So take it. Take Art’s tongue in your pussy, fuck.”

Patrick looked down, his mouth hanging open as he watched the way Art slurped away. He detached his lips only to slide a finger in, kissing you gently as he fucked his finger into you, slow and deep and relishing the way you stretched over his finger. 

“So fucking warm,” he muttered, talking to your pussy like you and him were the only two in the room. He slipped another finger inside you, which made you cry out, pussy throbbing around his fingers. “There you go, squeeze my fingers.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, delirious. Art was rutting against the bed now, chasing his high along with you, and Patrick’s hand was working overtime on his cock, spreaidng the precum leaking from his tip along the shaft. His hand reached up to smack your ass, groaning at the way it reveberated beneath his touch. 

“You’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

Inadvertently, you started to catch the rhythm of Art’s fingers, throwing your hips back against his fingers and his face. The sight of your ass practically covering Art’s face was almost too much for Patrick to handle — he actually glanced away for a second, hoping he could hold off on his swift-approaching orgasm. 

“Yeah, fuck back onto my face, I want you to use me,” Art moaned, muffled by your thighs wrapped around his head. 

You weren’t sure when it all happened, you just knew that you were moaning both their names as you’re sent over the edge, Patrick and Art deftly following — Patrick in his hands, Art in his jeans, hips stuttering against the bed. You squeezed around Art's fingers as you dripped down onto the bed, soaking Art's tongue and chin. It took a while for all of you to gain some semblance of reality, pushing past the haze of pleasure and smoke and bitter alcohol that you were floating in. 

“Did you come in your jeans?” Patrick’s voice cut through the foggy silence, and Art slapped his chest. 

“Shut up, look what you did to the sheets.”

You were lying on your back, gazing up at the two boys with a sated grin, resting your hands on your stomach. 

“Aren’t you glad we found you?” Patrick teased. 

You didn’t have to answer, he already knew.

i think i’m gonna have a part two for this you guys have no idea how much i was debating whether or not they should fuck in this but i feel like reader is the type to make them wait…  plus it would've actually been a novel if i added that and i wanted to get this out cuz i don't wanna keep y'all waiting!! so when they fuck they'll fuck NYASTY.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

PLEASE write about Jean seeing you for the first time in four years 😭. Like you got taken by Reiner or something and when they attacked you went and found him. PLEASE THIS WOULD BE SO COOL!!

at last

pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader

word count: 1.2k +

tw: kidnapping, cursing, angst,

a/n: wow! this is a lil emotional! i hope you love it like i do. also, this isn't proof read.

it'd been four years. it'd been four whole years since you felt the company of your comrades, no, your friends. the day you were taken still burned sharply in the back of your mind, replaying on an endless loop, constantly reminding you of the last day you were happy. there was no forgetting the devastated looks, their faces twisting and contorting with fear. the sounds of their panicked shouts fading into the distance. the most haunting thing of all your brain tortured you with was the feeling of jean's fingertips slipping away from yours.

things like that weren't so easily forgotten, especially from the confinement of your cell. at the end of the day, you were grateful. you were grateful to still have your life, no matter how miserable it might have been. the cell you stayed in was dim, cold and all too quiet. it was the perfect breeding ground for your trauma, festering day and night. of course, there was a time you weren't as grateful; you'd rather have died then reside in marley for whatever time you might have had left. you were angry. you were angry at reiner, at marley, at the scouts for not being successful in their attempts to rescue you. there was fear residing there, too. were your friends alive? where was eren? did they know what you knew? did they know about the cruelty of the world?

eventually, reiner became somebody different. you no longer saw him as the traitor as he once was. you grew to understand him, your resentment eventually fading away. he'd come down most days and visit you. he taught you a lot of things about marley and about paradis. reiner would tell you about the world away from your cell, about things that were happening outside.

the day came where reiner told you that willy tybur, an eldian noble, was going to declare war on your homeland. he seemed remorseful to be telling you this. you screamed at him, begging him to interfere all while reminding him he was once a soldier, too. he ignored your pleas and left you a pacing mess in your cell.

not long after reiner's disappearance, a blond male soldier stopped by your cell. the soldier said nothing as he fumbled around in his pockets before pulling out a set of keys. he unlocked the door as you asked a thousand questions, raising your voice with each word. he said nothing. like reiner, he left without a word.

the sound of eren's titan echoed through the air, shaking the ceiling and causing bits of rock to fall. you thought you were hallucinating, your brain playing another sick trick on you. you heard it again with booms following right behind it. praying on the chance it was real, that eren was really here, your legs took off, your calves burning with each swift movement.

above ground was a nightmare coming to life. the sky was dark. there were no stars to see, the only light from the raging fires. the attack titan's silhouette was visible, muscles rippling as he pounded another titan. there were so many emotions running through the track of your mind but there was one thought that stood out apart from the rest.

if eren was here, were the scouts here too?

then, you heard it. the unmistakable sound of odm gear being launched through the air. anxiety brewed deep within you, letting you know this might be your one chance to go home, begging you to not let it slip away the way jean had let you. tilting your head up to the sky, you saw them. the scouts, in a different uniform than you remembered, were zipping through the air with utter grace. they were angels compared to the relentless war behind them. you wanted to cheer; your saviors were here, at last. you opened your mouth, filling your diaphragm with all the air it would let you and you screamed. you screamed as loud as you could.

"help! it's me, (y/n)!" it was the only thing that came to your mind. you thought your efforts were useless, barely being able to hear yourself over the screams of men, women, and children. the fight between of titans covering up your futile attempts at a rescue. you were about to yell again when you felt an arm snake around you.

the air was cold, an unwelcoming breeze, as you flew through the air with an unknown liberator. your eyes closed as the harsh wind hit them. you'd long forgotten what it was like to be a scout. once being able to zip effortlessly through your environment, you found yourself taken back. the arm on your waist was warm and you reveled in the heat, despite the chilled air around you.

your flight came to an end and only then did you open your eyes. with wide eyes, you blinked, taking in your surroundings. you were on a rooftop now. you centered your eyes in front of you.

"(y/n?)" his voice is choked, barely getting through your name.

jean kirstein.

tears brimming in your eyes like a dam threatening to break, you had let out a guttural cry. the next word out of your mouth was much softer than the sound you'd just made. "jean." you whisper. jean didn't move as water collected in his eyes, spilling over and running down his face. "jean." he nodded his head, at a loss of words. his mouth opened but only the sound of war was heard. jean shook his head and lunged forward, engulfing you in an embrace you thought you'd never feel again.

jean's shoulders were shaking with sobs and the battle behind was long forgotten. jean was no longer a soldier; he was healing. the wounds you'd left had never closed. they were deep gashes all over his body, aching to feel you, to hear you at any given moment. with a single embrace, he felt them closing.

his palm cradled the back of your head, the other wrapped around the entirety of your back. there was nothing said here as you two breathed each other in, finding the love that was once lost with each breath. jean's voice was quiet in your ears.

"i'm sorry," his breath was warm as it poured over the side of your neck. "i'm sorry." jean repeated.

you found it within you to pull away from his arms. you could see him now. you could really see him now. you could see how the four years had hardened him. the only thing that was the same was his eyes. it was the same way he had looked at you back then. his eyebrows twitch with concern, awaiting your next word, scanning your face for a hint.

your mouth fell open, desperately begging you to say something, to say anything at all. the sound of your cry was barely heard over the explosions of thunderspears; your tongue failing you with words once again.

"i know, baby."

you rushed forward, meeting him once again in an embrace. your head became wet with his tears as yours dampened his neck. jean's arms tightened as he let out a shaky breath. "i'm here, baby. you're here with me, at last."

my jean fic 🤍

[peachhcs]

i was wondering how sam starts to fall and relize that will is worth t her risk? because i know they went on the one date

the 3 times samy's confused about her feelings and the 1 time she isn't

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy's afraid to date her best friend in fear of ruining everything, so she spends the entire summer trying to understand her feelings until it finally all clicks.

4k words

wow! my longest fic ever for this series. i loved, loved loved writing this and i'm planning on doing a similar type of style to this soon so stayed tune for that! as always, keep sending in requests, they're so fun to write :)

au masterlist

ONE

sitting at the kitchen island while ellen helped curl samy's hair, the girl's stomach churned into knots for some reason. she was so so excited for senior prom, but her anxiety wouldn't shake. something was tipping the youngest hughes off her balance, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. luke and her mom must've been taking notice of her unusual silence because the girl hadn't stopped talking about prom all week.

"your hair's gonna look so beautiful with these curls," ellen gushed, breaking the silence in the kitchen.

"you think so?" samy wondered quietly, hands fidgeting in her lap.

"oh for sure. i just know you and will are gonna look so amazing," the older woman continued while samy's stomach twisted into knots again hearing her best friend's name.

luke, who stood a few feet away, picked up on his sister's quietness again. he studied her face, gears turning in his brain, the pieces in his head slowly falling together that answered her sudden shyness.

"i think it's so nice you and your friends are bringing some of the guys. i really think they'll have fun even if they don't say it," ellen continued.

samy briefly nodded, her mind stuck on will. "yeah, it will be fun," her eyes met luke's across the way and because they were siblings, he instantly read her gaze.

samy's friends were the ones who brought up the idea about her bringing will to prom. the brunette didn't have a lot of options considering she didn't like many of the other guys at her school. marley suggested "the hot hockey friend" (her words) and everyone else immediately agreed.

sure, they teased samy about will before and always went on about how hot him and his friends were, but the girl never looked past that. she never gave it a second thought until now.

the days leading up to prom have left serious anxious butterflies in samy's stomach for reasons she didn't quite understand completely. her and will texted back and forth like they usually did, but something felt different. there was something different that the brunette couldn't put her finger on it and the more she thought about it, the more she thought about her friend's teasing remarks and the boys' teasing remarks anytime they all hung out.

"okay, i'm gonna let these set for a minute before we start doing anything else," ellen decided as she shut the curling iron off and disappeared out of the room.

the hughes sibling code was that you never brought up anything around the parents you wanted to discuss, so luke shifted himself closer to his sister once their mom was out of earshot. samy met his wondering gaze.

"what's up?" luke asked in a near whisper.

"what?" for a moment samy played dumb. she feared her little bubble of anxiety was coming off as too noticeable.

"you look nervous. like way more nervous than before," the middle hughes casually pointed out. his sister's face flushed.

"i'm not."

"really?" luke didn't believe her. not even for a second. he grew up with her, so he knew every single one of her quirks making it impossible to hide them.

"yeah?" she toyed with her fingers and avoided eye contact—a dead giveaway for the older boy.

"samantha," luke using her full name meant he was being seriousness and wanted her to be serious too.

"i'm just like kind of freaking out and i don't know why," the youngest hughes finally admitted.

the boy raised his eyebrow, "what do you mean by freaking out?"

"like..there's these butterflies in my stomach and my heart won't stop racing," samy tried her best explaining.

"are you nervous for prom?" luke wondered.

"i-i don't know..maybe? i just..it feels weird," words weren't coming easy to the girl. she looked away, feeling embarrassed that she was even feeling this way.

the middle hughes hesitated for a second, thinking back to a few minutes ago when he noticed how his sister grew quiet at the mention of will's name. "does it have anything to do with will?"

the girl's face blushed around the edges, "that's the problem. i think so, but i-i don't really know."

"i mean you're just going as friends. it doesn't mean anything," luke shrugged until he saw his sister's gaze again and something in his expression shifted. "or does it?"

"i don't know," samy nearly whispered.

her brother finally understood what she was trying to say.

"do you want it to mean something?" luke asked.

"i-i wanna say yes..my heart wants me to, but..my head is confusing me. i don't know why i feel like this about will," she looked at luke as if he had all the answers for her.

"it sounds like you may have..feelings for him? or you're starting to?" his words made the girl's stomach drop. feelings?

"feelings?" her thoughts slipped out of her mouth.

"maybe?"

that didn't make samy feel any better than before. luke quickly cut in when he saw her expression drop, "that's not a bad thing. i had a small inkling."

"inkling? will's my best friend..he's like another brother to me. i-i can't have feelings for him," the girl looked over at luke who only shrugged.

"i dunno, just something to think about. you seemed anxious when mom mentioned him and you aren't usually."

"something about this just feels really different and i..i can't understand why. or maybe i do and i don't wanna believe it," samy mumbled the last part.

"is it a bad thing to like him or something?" luke crossed his arms as he drew back off the counter.

"i mean..no. it's not. i just..he's my best friend. that's all i've ever seen him as. i don't know why things suddenly feel so different," samy admitted.

"i get it. just..see how the night goes? see what happens? for all he knows, it's just a friends thing," the middle hughes tried reassuring her. all samy could do was nod and take some deep breaths to ease the racing thoughts.

TWO

the excitement finally started dying down around two in the morning. people drifted back towards their rooms as sleep filled their eyes knowing their hangovers would be pretty killer in the morning. the youngest hughes lingered in the conference room just taking in the scene of what was once a packed room while everyone congratulated the boys on their drafts.

her parents retired hours ago and the older hughes brothers were somewhere in the building either asleep or continuing the party in a smaller room. it was just her in there staring blankly at one of the walls lost in thought until one of the doors cracked open.

"found her," gabe's voice broke the silence. samy's gaze slid to his as he slowly shuffled closer towards her. ryan wasn't far behind.

"you okay?" the darker-haired boy wondered when he got closer. "we've been looking for you."

"oh, yeah. i'm good," samy nodded as gabe plopped onto the couch with ryan on her other side.

"smitty passed out upstairs in the room. no way he was waking up," ryan laughed briefly. samy pictured the blonde in her head and it brought a soft smile to her lips.

"did he tell you?" she asked the two boys. both of them raised their eyebrow like they didn't know what she was talking about.

"tell us what?" ryan wondered, both of their gazes shifting over to the girl between them.

a small flush spread across her cheeks. she for sure thought will would tell them as soon as he got the chance considering how much they were always teasing him for it.

"he..he uh..we kissed," samy mumbled quietly.

gabe and ryan's smiles grew into the widest and biggest the brunette's ever seen them besides when they scored goals during a game. 

"fucking finally! when did that happen??" gabe exclaimed.

"we finally caught each other in the crowd. we went into the hallway and i guess everything just..spilled out," samy explained what the two missed.

"so what? you're boyfriend girlfriend now?" ryan nudged her arm, a large smirk on his lips knowing the guys owed him now.

"uh..no.."

"no?" ryan and gabe exchanged a curious and confused glance. the brunette's gaze fell away from them as she toyed with her fingers.

"we're just gonna like go on dates and see how it goes and if it goes to shit then that's okay and nothing is ruined between us," she shrugged some.

"i don't get it," gabe said.

"it's like a grace period. we go on dates just to see how we'd be in a relationship and if we aren't good, then it's like nothing happened," she saw their glances and for some reason neither of them made her feel good.

"but you guys like each other..so wouldn't that like..not make sense if you don't decide to be official but you still like each other?" ryan raised his eyebrow.

"maybe..but i dunno. just scared," samy's voice softened out which immediately made gabe and ryan's expressions soften too.

"scared? of what? will? he's your best friend," ryan almost laughed before knowing that wouldn't be the right move.

"that's the problem. he's my best friend."

"i'm lost again," gabe's confusion earned a playful eye roll from the youngest hughes.

"i've known will since we were babies. all i've ever known him is a best friend. a brother. these feelings are still new to me and..i'm still scared. i'm scared that it won't work between us and we ruin everything we've ever had," samy's confession had her own heart clenching in tight knots. that familiar feeling of anxiety returned anytime she thought about her feelings for will.

"hey, i get it. when julianne and i started dating i was scared too. she was a really good friend of mine and i didn't wanna ruin that. i mean..we know will, you probably know him better than us, but he's not like that. he'd do anything for you samy," ryan touched her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze while gabe nodded in agreement. a soft smile replaced the small frown on her lips.

she knew when ryan called her samy and not hughesy, he was being genuine.

"i mean, you should've seen him back in october and before he even realized he liked you like that. he'd never do anything to hurt you or put himself in a position to lose you," gabe added.

"i know it's hard to shake the jerky hockey guy persona, but trust me when i say will is far from that. you know that. if you called him needing something, he'd drop everything for you. i know he really, really wants this to work out between you guys," ryan grinned wider.

luckily, the boys' words eased some of the anxiety building in samy's stomach. she hooked her arm around ryan's, giving it a loving squeeze.

"when did you guys become so good at giving advice? i swear you were teasing me two days ago," her words made the three of them laugh.

"i guess we're growing up, huh? we're not kids anymore," gabe's eyes drifted across samy and ryan's glances.

"i'm really proud of you two. i'm gonna miss you being in michigan with me this fall," she ruffled up both of their hairs making them squirm away.

"i can't believe it's already over. went too fast," ryan hummed, leaning back into the couch.

"you can say that again. i can't believe boston's in two months," a sad smile appeared on gabe's lips.

the idea of her best friends being miles away from her made samy's stomach twist into more knots. she lived for moments like these where the late hours made them vulnerable and anything tumbled out of their lips into the open air. these moments wouldn't happen anymore when the boys headed to botson. everything was changing soon and samy wasn't sure how big of a fan she was of all of it—especially trying to navigate her feelings for someone she cared deeply about.

THREE.

samy's heart hammered against her chest with each step she took onto her front porch. one step matched the thud of her heart and the blush rising to the tips of her ears. will's heavier footsteps weren't far behind, insisting that he walked her to the door to make sure she made it in safely.

all of these little gestures were so new to them. samy was so used to the blonde flying out the door passed her after her brothers in an attempt keep up with them. sometimes he'd even knock into her accompanied with a weak apology as he passed through. having him walk her to the house was entirely new territory in their relationship.

the brunette slowly spun on her heel, instantly finding will's gaze already on her. a soft smile sat on his lips as his eyes darted between her own. his shoulder fell against the one of the support beams, hands slipping into his pockets trying to act casual despite the pounding in his ears.

"i had a lot of fun. thank you, again," samy broke the silence first.

"yeah, me too. it was really fun," will agreed.

everything about them standing inches away from the front door where her parents and brothers were on the other side made samy feel like she was in high school again after a first date. the giddy smiles; the racing heartbeats; the awkward waiting and deciding if a kiss goodbye was appropriate while wondering if the older boys were watching them from an unknown location. 

"next time you should show me around plymouth," the girl teased slightly earning a blush across will's cheeks.

"you haven't seen all of it already?"

the girl smiled, but shook her head, "no, not really. i'd love to get your take on it."

"noted. i'll have to come up with an itinerary for us then."

the two shared a loving smile. samy noticed the way will's gaze briefly flicked down to her lips and the action made her heart flutter.

she decided to help him out by slowly inching closer, the small gap between them quickly closing. will caught on fairly fast. his hand slid onto her cheek, directing her chin upwards to meet his soft lips while samy hoped he couldn't feel her rapid heartbeat beneath his palm. 

the blonde used his other hand to wrap around her hip, tugging her impossibly closer while samy's danced through his hair and clutched his shirt. the kiss had both of their heads spinning until they finally pulled apart.

"see you tomorrow at the game?" will whispered with kiss-swollen lips.

the smile he loved spread across samy's own kiss-swollen lips as she nodded, "i'd never miss it."

he reluctantly let her go, watching as the brunette disappeared back into her house. the smile never disappeared from will's face the entire drive back to plymouth.

inside, samy leaned against the door just taking in the entire date. her eyes sparkled, replaying the way will's lips felt against her own—how passionate and sweet he was.

her high continued as she shuffled into the living room where all of her brothers were still awake watching the tv. they quickly met her gaze and the lovestruck expression dancing across her features.

"someone's smiley,"  jack commented in amusement, turning the volume down a few notches.

"maybe it's too early to say this, but i really think it's gonna work out between us. at least, i really hope it does."

the three brothers exchanged a brief glance. they had never heard their little sister talk that way about someone before—not after a first date. all three of their chests warmed seeing their baby sister look so happy despite them never admitting it. 

"that good, huh?" jack smirked some. samy nodded, joining them on the couch for a few moments before going upstairs.

"he's so perfect. he did everything right and..i just.." the youngest hughes trailed off for a moment while her brothers watched her expression slightly fade.

"i sense a but coming," quinn commented. samy met their gazes briefly before looking away.

"not a bad but..i just..i've never felt this way about someone before. my chest..it feels so..so full. it scares me," the girl didn't know how to explain what she was feeling nor was she sure if her brothers would even understand.

samy's words brought luke back to the conversation they shared a few months ago as the youngest sibling got ready for prom. he remembered how nervous she was—how unsure she seemed of it all. 

"remember prom?" luke wondered, meeting his sister's wandering gaze. 

"what about it?" 

"remember how scared you were then too but because you were unsure about the feelings you had for will because of how new they were?" the siblings didn't know where luke was taking the conversation, but they waited for him to go on. 

"now it seems like you're scared because of how you feel. you're not unsure anymore. you know how you feel for will, but it's scaring you," samy glanced at jack and quinn, getting lost in what luke was trying to say. 

"you're losing me," she said. 

"i think being scared of how much you like someone because you've never felt such strong emotions before is all the more reason to fall for them. to go all in," the curly-haired boy shrugged. 

in luke's weird, roundabout explanation, it somehow made sense to samy. she smiled briefly, letting her brother's words really sink in. 

"plus, we've seen the way he is around you. i don't think someone would act the way he does if he didn't really wanna be with you," quinn mentioned. 

samy decided to sleep on her brother's advice, hoping something would give her the sign that going all in with will wouldn't be a choice she regretted. 

THE 1 TIME

goodbyes were never easy. the cooler breeze of august mornings meant the end of summer. june bled into july. july bled into august. august marked the start of a new chapter, but the end of a really good one. the boys' usntdp years were over and all of them were once again packing up their lives to move out to boston to start something new and a bit unknown. samy sat in her childhood bedroom picking out the best memories to bring to college with her. 

even though she'd only be minutes away, heading to college was something the girl thought was still months away. sitting on the floor stuffing clothes and knickknacks into boxes brought a small line of tears into her eyes as august continued slipping away. 

on one of her freer days where she wasn't busy packing her own life away, samy drove up to plymouth to help the boys. it was also an excuse to see them more before they all left. 

she sat in will's room watching him sort his things into boxes attempting to hold herself together for the sake of both of them. if one them cried, then both of them would. her fingers clasped around some picture frames waiting to be wrapped. a smile spread across her lips when she saw what picture was inside. 

"i've never seen this picture before," the girl commented, casting her gaze towards her boyfriend. will's eyes flicked up, crinkling around the edges when he saw what photo. 

"i think it's from like a few years ago. you were at the game and mom wanted a picture," the blonde smiled briefly. 

the two looked awfully young. maybe fourteen or fifteen? will was still dressed in his hockey gear, helmet and stick in one hand with the other wrapped around samy's waist. he must've hit his growth spurt that year because he stood a good few inches above the brunette and samy knew she was always taller than him until he started growing more. the camera definitely captured the joy because of how wide each of their smiles were. 

"it's really cute. are you gonna put it up in your dorm?" samy teased a little. 

"yeah, probably. it's one of my favorites of us," will's response caught her off guard for some reason. 

her boyfriend had his back to her, so he didn't see the longing gaze. when her eyes finally left him and returned the the pictures again, she began realizing just how many were of her and him. the past two years samy hardly noticed what all of his framed pictures were. she just figured they were of family or him and his boys, not realizing over half of them included her smiling face. 

"you're taking all of these with you?" samy wondered a bit softly, referring to the picture frames still. 

will finally met her gaze again, not noticing the emotions coursing through her. "yeah, that's the plan. i don't know where i'll put all of them, but maybe i'll take them out of the frame and put them on the photo wall instead if they don't all fit somewhere," the blonde explained with a brief grin. 

the boy finally noticed samy's sudden quietness and her soft expression. he approached her, pushing some of her hair behind her ear, "you okay?" 

"oh, yeah, yeah. sorry. getting sentimental looking at all of these photos," the girl mumbled out a small lie. she didn't quite know how to put what she was currently feeling into words or how she felt so loved that will wanted to display her everywhere in whatever room he was in. 

"i know. mom keeps showing me all of these baby photos and finding things as we pack up," he rubbed the girl's arm before leaning in to place a gentle kiss to the side of her head. 

"i can't believe summer's already over," samy sunk onto the bed for a moment, eyes on the ground because if she looked at will she'd definitely start crying. 

"it went by way too fast. college came way too fast," the boy chuckled, finding a spot beside her. 

"boston's so lucky to have you, will. you're gonna do so great there," even though being over 600 miles away hurt, the girl knew how much will loved boston—dreaming of going there like everyone else in his family. 

"wish you were coming too," he took ahold of her hand, giving it a lot of kisses which made samy blush a deep crimson. 

"i know, but michigan's always called my name," the girl chuckled while thinking of quinn and luke. ever since she visited for the first time to watch quinn play, 12-year-old samy knew the university of michigan was where she would be one day. 

six years later, the girl was getting ready to move in and start her collegiate soccer career. 

"you know, gabe said he's not excited to live with me knowing how much i'm gonna call you everyday," will joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

in that moment, something in samy's head clicked. she finally looked over at her boyfriend and for the first time, she finally saw for herself that look everyone has told her he's looked at her with since they were kids. his blue eyes were nothing but orbs of a bright sparkle, entirely filled with nothing but love and adoration for the girl sitting beside him. 

"i'm gonna miss you a lot, hughesy. i wish i sucked up my pride and ego and told you how i felt a lot sooner," will admitted. 

his words exploded something inside of samy's chest. it was that feeling she's been scared of all summer, except this time, she wasn't scared anymore. she remembered luke's words about going all in when you felt something as strong as she felt. 

"me too. i wish i caught on sooner," the brunette chuckled, easing her forehead to rest against his. 

"i'm gonna call you every single day, watch every single one of your games, think about you all the time—" will's words quickly died in his throat when samy placed her lips on his. 

for the first time since the two admitted their feelings for one another, samy knew exactly how she felt about her best friend: in love. 

[total-dxmure]

✦ FLOWERS AND RIVALRY ➞ 【ELLIE WILLIAMS】

pairing: domestic!ellie williams x reader

summary: just some good ole’ neighborly rivalry.

warnings: ellie is just being adorable, you’re the best girlfriend in the world, this kinda shit is just a daily occurrence with her

a/n: just a lil somethin’ to keep you babies satiated while i'm working on chapter four of “marley and me”! enjoy :)

You watched as Ellie plucked a cigarette from her back pocket, her hands covered in dirt all the way up to her elbows. Buying a house was a lot of work- you knew that going in- but what you hadn’t expected was for your girlfriend to get so competitive about the upkeep.

“The neighbors across the street put in new flower boxes. . . did you see them? Anyway, I ran to Home Depot and picked up a few things.” Her definition of “few” and yours must be completely different, because the second that she opened up the bed of her truck you nearly laughed right in her face. Planks, bags full of supplies, and more flowers than you could even count were all shoved into the tight space. A few strands of her newly chopped hair were sticking to her brow with sweat. It was almost as though she could sense that you were about to say something, because she flashed you that wide smile of hers. Her freckles on full display in the early evening sun, green eyes blazing as she stared at you. You shut your mouth right up, only realizing how pussy whipped you were the second that you began jogging back into the house, already grabbing her an ice cold beer from the fridge.

So there you sat, legs stretched in front of you as you lounged in the rocking chair on the front porch. You would offer to help, but you were prone to clumsiness. While Ellie was good with fixing things, you were very good at breaking them.

She lit the cigarette, closing her lips around the filter and going straight back to work. Her arms and upper back glistened with sweat, cheeks flushed from the sun. You watched as she blew out a plume of smoke from her nose, utterly enchanted by her. She probably smelled of sweat, dirt, and sunscreen. . . but she was perfect.

The two of you were friends for years before making things official. The both of you had pined after one another for what felt like ages before she finally made a move. Maybe that was why the both of you were still so smitten after four years. You cracked a small smile before standing up, moving over to the top step of the porch so that you could grab the beer bottle, weighing it in your hands.

“I’ll go get you a fresh one.” And without her even having to say anything you breezed back into the house, eager to at least offer some sort of assistance.

You opened the fridge, pausing as you heard her voice sound from outside.

“-thought the front yard needed something.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the beer and twisting the cap off before sauntering back in the direction of the front porch. The wooden floors of your home creaked under your bare feet as you made your way towards the front door. The neighbor was standing in his yard, hands on his hips as he spoke. Ellie had stood up and moved away from her project, motioning towards what she was planning on making a large flower garden.

“The ole’ lady also wanted to plant some vegetables this year, so I’ll be working in the backyard tomorrow. You and your husband should come over once it’s all finished. You guys hosted dinner last time. It’s our turn.” Ellie told him matter of factly.

You schooled your face into neutrality, fighting off the urge to scoff at her statement. You had mentioned wanting to grow beans and peppers in passing almost a month ago. The neighbor- Steven- nodded his head, squinting his eyes against the blaring sun.

“Yeah, Yeah. Cole and I would love to come over. I remember you telling me about changing the tiles in your guest bath, and we wanted to come see.” He said, already moving back towards his front door.

Ellie was beaming with pride, the cigarette she had been smoking tucked between two dirty fingers. “Sounds like a plan.”

It was only once Steven was back in his home that Ellie turned to face you, eyes wide as she discreetly pointed in the direction of his house.

“Did you see that? He was practically boiling with jealousy. He told me last month that he was redoing the kitchen, and that smug look on his face-”

“I can’t believe you’re getting in a pissing competition with the sweet gay dads across the street.” You whispered, shaking your head in disapproval before handing her the beer.

“It wasn’t me! They started it!” She whisper-yelled, trailing after you like a wounded puppy.

[spider-mancan]

Instructor Stark is incredibly strict.

That’s not unusual for a ballet instructor, although Instructor Stark doesn’t have the heavy accent to be truly stereotypical. The real issue is that he seems flippant and casual until he’s making you stand in the front of the room and do the petit allegro over and over and you stop tripping over your feet while the rest of the class gets to drink water and stare at you.

“He’s only like that because you’re so good,” MJ tells Peter after he’s finished having his bathroom breakdown. “Betty fucked up those Italian fouettés and he barely ragged her at all.”

“Betty’s good!” Peter argues.

Not as good as you. MJ has said it before. Peter is glad she doesn’t say it again.

“Mr. Parker?” Instructor Stark sticks his head out of the rehearsal room and MJ flashes him a tight grimace before patting Peter on the shoulder.

“Speak of the devil.”

“The devil has excellent hearing, Miss Jones.” Instructor Stark doesn’t dig in his nails any further — even though most days MJ asks for it. Instead, he crooks his finger in Peter’s direction. “I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter says meekly. He hopes Instructor Stark can’t tell that he cried. Peter drains the rest of his refillable bottle over his head, luke-warm water soaking his thin shirt. He’s hoping the moisture hides any evidence of his episode in the bathroom, but he hooks his finger in the lid, gathers his things, and follows Instructor Stark back onto the Marley.

It’s dismissive, the way the instructor starts the music before Peter has even set his things down. “Still warm, aren’t you?” he asks, over Don Q on the speakers. “Basil. You know it.”

Peter has been sitting on cold tile for about ten minutes, so he’s not sure he’s up for the jumping, but he nods and rolls his shoulders.

“Perform for me.”

Peter meets Tony’s eyes in the mirror, lit on fire. That stupid smirk. Peter grits his teeth as the music starts over. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

If he’s not warm at first, he’s warm by the time Instructor Stark decides Peter has performed the variation to satisfaction — four or five times, no marking, and a bruise on the knee from banging the barre on his tours.

The music finally cuts off. “You’re very good at doing what you’re told.”

Peter could kick Stark in the shin, but he’s exhausted, collapsing again the mirror. He scowls at the instructor, who just…smirks, looking down at Peter over his nose. There’s an undertone, something that only bleeds through when they’re alone. They’ve both pretended not to notice, even though the undertone would not be taken well by the school. Peter never mentions it. Tony only gives him elevator eyes when Peter is too tired to care. He thinks it might be a strange, twisted kind of admiration, that MJ is right and Instructor Stark thinks Peter has value, and that comes across in heat under the skin. It would hardly be the first time passion for the arts became something different entirely.

Peter tries not to squirm, so he scowls harder.

“I’ve got an offer for you, kid.”

Peter tenses up. “What, uh…what kind of offer?”

Instructor Stark comes over, holds out his palm to help Peter up, and pretends Peter isn’t hesitant to take it. “I’m teaching at a convention in Germany this summer. Ten weeks.”

“That’s great, sir,” Peter replies, listlessly. He doesn’t know why Instructor Stark felt the need to tell Peter something he already new. Most people moaned about losing their favorite instructor — his replacement isn’t nearly as nice to look at, either.

“I have an extra ticket.”

It clicks too slowly, sluggish. “Me?” Peter scrambles to his feet in a burst of adrenalin, ignoring Instructor Stark’s hand entirely. “Me, to Germany, for the convention? Natasha Romanov is going to be there!”

His instructor smirks, all sideways. “Trust me, that’s a reason to stay home.”

“She’s one of the best ballerinas in two generations! She’s danced for kings!”

“Me too, kid.” Instructor Stark crosses his arms with a sniff. “Pretty sure on more occasions, even.”

“You’re a guy,” Peter argues. “It’s different!” He’s grinning. He’s excited, too excited, to the point of trembling. He’s not sure he trusts it. “I…I can really go? The money—”

“Paid for.” Instructor Stark waved his hand like thousands of dollars is nothing. “You’ll just have to bring yourself and something…” He pinches the see through material of Peter’s drenched shirt, “less wet. Lots of somethings. There will be three or four classes a day, plus rehearsals for company shows. It’s a big deal.”

Peter knows. He can’t believe. “Why…why me?”

Instructor Stark’s fingers smooth out the wrinkle he made in Peters shirt. His finger must smell like diluted sweat, like Peter. Stark looks him up and down, and the smirk goes a little softer on the edges. “I owe you, Mr. Parker, for making you cry.”

[marcobodtlives]

Here's a sad thought.

You know how titan shifters take the memories of the previous one? So, when Armin ate Bertholdt and took the colossal from him that means he more than likely saw the memory of what happened with Marco, and didn't say anything.

Not to Jean.

No one.

YEAH! THIS IS ON MY MIND CONSTANTLY 😓

24/7 RENT FREE

I say this to everyone I know who watches AoT and I believe it wholeheartedly.

Thank you 🥲 I think about this fact so often and I have so many headcanons about it!!!

Here they all are beneath the cut, I hope you like: 🥹

I reckon Armin would have had flashes of it, felt so sick, picked up Bertholdt’s lingering guilt, and then been utterly torn between telling Jean and keeping it to himself.

I think Armin and Jean are close, particularly so after their planned kidnapping in season 3. I think Armin has always reminded Jean of Marco, and I think a small part of Jean knows that Armin means a lil more to him because it’s the last shred of Marco that he feels he still has.

Marco and Armin were close. They were both smart, inquisitive, caring individuals that wound up being the ones keeping their chaotic friends in line. He might be short, blond, and lack the freckles Jean loved, but Armin is as close to Marco that Jean has - and Armin knows that too.

After Marco’s death, Armin notices how heavily it’s impacted Jean, and he reaches out. Extends an open line, lets Jean know that he’s there for him if he ever wants to talk - really talk.

After their planned capture in season 3, after Armin kills to save Jean’s life, after Armin’s sacrifice in Shiganshina, he’s torn.

On one hand, Jean was closest to Marco, was the one who took his death the hardest, the one who sees him and mourns him more than anyone else. Jean is the one who keeps Marco’s memory alive, he’s the one that fights the hardest to keep Marco from becoming ‘just another comrade we’ve lost.’

Jean has said “he died all alone, without anyone knowing or seeing.” Armin knows the circumstances of Marco’s death kill Jean, rock him to the core.

Armin knows Jean is the one who deserves to know the truth more than anyone.

But Armin also knows the other side to Jean.

Armin knows Jean feels the weight of every death. He knows Jean wakes at night, hands clamped over his ears. He knows Jean’s sketchbook is full of sketches of Marco, and he knows they’re becoming less and less accurate as time goes on.

He knows Jean would fall into a hole, so to speak, if he found out the truth. He knows Jean would need answers, he knows the fury of it all would compromise Jean in the field.

When they reach the ocean, he almost says something. They aren’t in immediate danger, it’s been over a year, they have their answers. Logically, it would be the best time to say something.

But he sees Jean with Conny and Sasha, sees their smiles, the carefree way they laugh as salt water twists their features. And Armin realises… he can’t do this. He doesn’t have the heart to sit Jean down and explain that his best friend of three years was held down and fed to a titan by three of their fellow cadets-turned-traitors.

Murdered. He can’t tell Jean that Marco was murdered. He just - he can’t do that. It’s hard enough seeing it himself when he closed his eyes, he can’t tell Jean and subject him to that truth.

He doesn’t need to fuel Jean’s nightmares by giving him more context. He isn’t going to be the gasoline to Jean’s trauma-fire.

He can tell the truth when they’re stable again. When Paradis isn’t under threat, when there’s peace and hope. When Jean has the time to heal without fear and uncertainty dancing over their heads.

Then they go to Marley. Then Eren leaves. War is declared. They’re fighting for their lives. Again.

Then Reiner and Annie are honest.

And Armin is reminded why he didn’t tell Jean when fists start flying and Jean ends up in the woods with his hands over his ears.

But he thinks maybe things will be okay, when Jean saves Reiner’s ass as they hang from Eren’s ribcage.

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Rating the Mars signs sexually that I have been with.

Aries Mars 🔥 ♈️🕶️

And Aries is obviously and it’s home sign so it feels very comfortable here which makes this sign a very comfortable sign for it to be in also sexually. These people will try most things once, but there is a limitation. I have noticed they like one area very much and they will stick to what they like, it will be different for each of these people who have displacement like for example, you can get one to really into kissing your neck or giving you a hickey or you could get one he’s really into massaging your neck either way is very good and very intense for and sexy Fiery? they are into all sorts of sexually and not into oral more than positions and sex, but all of it together they don’t like planning it either overnight as they have to be on the spare of the moment.

Mars in Taurus 🔥♉️👅

I say miles in taurus mars myself, I’m writing myself on my own of what we like. We are very much into oral more than penetration. We love anything that’s spicy in the sense watching pornography listening to the sounds of sensitive everything that’s to do with the senses, baby oil anything to make it more dirty in those kind of ways, and they will do oral all for a long time That is the best part for them for us more about and building up the sensation rather than just getting it done. I’m it’s not about getting to somewhere it’s about enjoying the moment and where there’s nowhere to go where are just in the moment enjoying the sensory oils, the pornography, the pleasuring of the other person

Mars in Gemini🔥♊️🥴

Martin Gemini love to talk during, and tell you what’s going on, that is her idea of the turn on. I want to tell you where they’re at how they feel what they want you to do what they can do to each other that imagination is out they like to switch things up, and they usually the dominant one in the bedroom, I like to be more into penetration rather than the foreplay and some things will give them the egg if you do, but they’re quite happy to tell you that will make it quite blatantly obvious, but you won’t be disappointed they’re very fast pace, if that’s what you’re into, you’ll be happy, either way, you won’t be disappointed, I’ve noticed they don’t need any props so don’t want any toys or porn?

Mars in Scorpio🔥♏️ 🍆

Let’s not get it twisted Mars and Scorpio is really known for being with sexual top of the list when it comes to sex and I’m not gonna lie they are very good. They can be a bit selfish but they are very know what they’re doing and you can also do anything once or twice or fry Anything and they will let you try anything on them think of them as your own personal slave in the bedroom. They’re up for anything but then they can have time as well. They just want a quickie. They just basically everything when it comes to sex Scorpio rules sex. They are like all of us at the end of the day. Sometimes we just wanted to be like that I wouldn’t say it’s their ideal thing. I’d rather be like miles in Taurus where they have a whole day of just like doing it.

Mars in Capricorn 🔥♑️🥶

So this is the only mars, signs, like right and mars in Capricorn was my least favourite of all of these mars signs. It felt for me personally a bit robotic they can be very bossy and controlling. I think they’re kind of person who wants to be dominated or switching, even But if you’re too timid people, your submissive people isn’t gonna work so find something that tickles your pickle and stick someone you can be compatible with on a freaky level Bob, Marley had this placement. Obviously I don’t know what he was saying sexually but he had a lot of children so maybe for some people it’s just an act it’s just something that you do that has not a lot of passion to it. They were good at trying to make it about you. I’m trying to please, you but in a weird way of

[loonybun]

hi guys… guess who wrote for mermay… it’s me…. hopefully i’ll also do some more soon

Contains: Mermaid/siren whumpee, siren hunter whumper, multiple (care)whumpers, captivity, very subtly implied murder and torture (for funzies), carewhumper, a really fucked up found family dynamic except one of the “parents” has no idea about it, teenage whumpee, mute whumpee, nonbinary whumpee

hope u enjoy my silly guys…. i plan to write smthn for cady next if my brain is hyped up enough

—

The tank was the only home they’d ever known. Though they were young when they’d been taken from the ocean, it had always been cruel to them. The tank, on the other hand, was made with them in mind. It was comfortably large and filled with things like plants and hides for enrichment.

They loved seeing their caretaker, even if he never had much time to spare. He moved briskly whenever he walked by, never even offering a slight glance towards them. Eye contact was a rarity. They didn’t know why he scowled whenever he was forced to face them. His disgust, whenever he tossed the long-dead fish into the tank, made their guts twist with guilt. They’d done something wrong, they were sure of it, but they didn’t know what it could've possibly been.

Maybe something was wrong with them. The water made it difficult to hear anything from the other side of the tank, but they knew one word he used frequently. “Beast”. That’s what he called them. It hurt more knowing he’d handled other people like them before. Sometimes, he’d even smile at someone. They’d never seen the same person twice after someone was wheeled away in a cooler. There was no need to take any of them out of their tanks after all. They found it strange how they'd never seen any of the other enclosures, but it was the only place they could be. They were sure of that fact.

Besides their caretaker, there was another human that came around every once and a while. She had bright eyes and a playful smile constantly fixed on her face. Her fascination with them was a stark contrast to her caretaker’s aversion. The woman would always come and tap on the glass and grin when they came up. With her hands, she’d make little motions and signals. It took them a while to pick up on the language, but with a bit of time, it became easier to hold a conversation. They’d managed to learn her name. Mel. They were called Marley by her, but they’d never heard their caretaker use that name for them. Or any name, for that matter.

Once, they’d asked why their guardian looked at them the way he did. They noticed the way Mel bit her lip before she responded. “He’s like that to everyone. Don’t take it personally, okay? He likes you plenty.”, she signed. Then, they asked about why he never seemed upset with the others. Her expression shifted into one of horror, then deep discomfort. All she said was that she needed to leave, and then she did. They heard yelling a bit later, but they weren’t able to discern why.

They had a feeling that whatever it was, it was their fault.

—

i know it’s a bit short but take what u can get from me and nibble on it because for all you know it could be months till ur next little meal /j

[arminsumi]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Marley's Guardian Ⅲ

ARMIN x f.reader

A/N: as requested by lovely @ivalioneisavenue ! so sorry I took sooo long on this request i know it was very anticipated! 🫠 i got a bit distracted along the way but i hope it's as enjoyable as the prev. parts!

🏷️;  @chuuyasballz / @fckwritersblock / @sad-darksoul

Wc: 1.4k

Overview; after enduring both Eren in the cell and Levi in the interrogation room, Armin comes to help you and tend to your wounds once again.

Content; canonverse, light fluff, angst, Marleyan reader

Warnings; light S4 spoilers, injuries, implied interrogation

arminsumi's library

An authoritative voice reverberated through the gondola, the owner being a redhead giving an impassioned speech. You watched him pace back and forth, your mind slipping in and out of consciousness.

In your half-awake state, you could only barely make out the situation; you’d been restrained and tied up after protecting your little sister and Falco from the rage of the soldiers.

“Who is in favor of tossing them off?” the speech-giver asked his comrades.

Tossing them off? What did that mean?

A spark of realization and fear alighted your eyes, and you cried – but it was weak and pathetic, much like your posture; curled up on the floor, unable to defend Gabi and Falco, who were bloodied and weakened themselves.

Gabi kept an unwavering stare on you.

“What’s going on here?” a voice asked, one comfortingly familiar.

“These two tried to shoot Sasha. Then she acted hostile, too.”

“Nah! Don’t get it twisted. Hange, the Guardian protected me from taking the shot.” Sasha defended you.

A raging argument began, one you never heard the end of because you finally lost consciousness, the stabbing pain of your wounds forcing you to succumb to an abyssal dream.

Groggy. Cold. Pained. Confused. You woke up in what seemed to be a dungeon chamber. It felt awfully medieval.

You remember the torch flames flickering in your bleary vision. The crackles of fire, clinking shackle restraints, and dripping water – like out of a sink. Gentle breaths and footsteps neared you. As your vision unblurred you spotted in the opposite cell, behind rusted bars, two gleaming green eyes at first.

“You look awful.” Eren’s deep voice reverberated heavily in your chest.

You blinked at him. Silence ensued.

“But not worse than your little sister.”

Your chest panged. “Where is she and Falco?” you asked immediately, though your voice came out weak. Your throat was so dry and hoarse.

“How the hell would I know where they are?” he snapped unexpectedly.

Another silence ensued.

“Where is the blond?”

Eren peered at you through his cell. His brows furrowed in confusion. Water beaded off strands of his dark hair.

“The blond?” he questioned, “Armin?”

“A – rrrmeen?” you could barely pronounce his name like Eren did. “Armeen.”

Eren chortled at your struggling accent.

“Where is Armeen?” you asked again.

“I don’t know where Armeen is,” Eren mocked. He gave you a long, judgemental look. You only blinked expressionlessly at him, giving no hint to your deepest emotions in that moment.

“Why the hell did he help you? Did you bewitch him with your good looks or something?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you threaten him to help you? Probably.” He scoffed, “Knowing you… I bet you have no shame for all the pain you’ve caused Eldians, right? Not a shred of regret.”

“What?” you seemed confused, so Eren bitterly elaborated.

“Years ago, you intervened when we were about to finish off Reiner. Do you have any idea how frustrating and tormenting that was?”

“I was only following orders.” You replied.

Eren gritted his teeth. He hated that you talked in such an unfazed tone.

“Is that all you are? Just an empty shell of a person who’s only good for taking orders?” he insulted.

You just couldn’t understand why he seemed so riled up. You hadn’t attacked him or showed hostility, how could you in this state? Never mind the fact you were behind bars.

Eren stood to his full height while you sat splayed on the ground, his big hands holding onto his cell’s bars.

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked ponderingly.

“It’s sickening.”

You just couldn’t understand him.

“Why?” you asked.

Eren looked like he was a volcano due to erupt. Not that it frightened you in the slightest.

“Because you’re not free.” He said.

“I don’t understand why that matters.” You replied.

Your cool exterior seemed to push him over the edge. He snapped and yelled at you with his thunderous voice, “God, why the hell did Armin show you kindness! Is he insane!”

Stuck underground in cramped dungeons, it was terrifying to see a flash of lightning across his eyes.

The heat in the atmosphere rose, as did the tension, but just before it became alarming, the doors down the corridor opened with a bang.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Levi’s drawling voice sounded from a distance.

He walked at a quick pace to your cell and peered into it.

You caught the Captain’s steely eyes for a split second.

He turned away to face Eren, who had receded into the darkness of his cell as if he were a creature in a cave. It seemed just the Captain's presence was enough for him to shut up.

“You.” Levi returned his attention to you. His presence was unsettling, but much less so than Eren’s; in some way you were relieved he had arrived.

“We’ve got some questions to ask you. Try bite and I’ll cut your head off, ‘not like you can defend yourself in this state anyways.”

The cell door rattled open. Moments later, you were being brought into another room with their Commander; those eyes gleamed at you from behind glasses.

Levi forced you into a seat so hard that you let out a small yelp.

“Good to see you again.” Hange said half-jokingly to lighten the mood. “If you cooperate, there will be no need for these.” Hange motioned towards an array of... utensils.

Levi was eyeing you from the corner of the room. You shifted uncomfortably and coughed.

“Is my sister okay?” you asked boldly. She was the only thought in your mind right then.

“Shut up, you’re in no position to ask questions – ”

“Your sister is okay.” Hange interrupted Levi’s cold reply.

You emerged from the interrogation room with blood dribbling out your nose. You had a bit of a limp thanks to Levi’s ‘interrogation technique’.

It was then that Armin came across you, and he immediately asked – no, he pleaded – with his Commander. “May I take her into my care? She’s not hostile… and even if she was, she’s too hurt to do anything. Please?”

“Alright. Then take her.” Hange replied bluntly.

Though the blond offered to help you walk, noticing your limp, you gave him a frown of refusal. “Okay… that’s alright, then, just follow me. Don’t stray from my side.”

Was it his authoritativeness or kindness that made you want to follow his command? Maybe it was simply his gentleness of character. He was really a balm to your senses after enduring Eren and Levi.

“You need to drink something. Your lips are very dry.” Armin said, encouragingly giving you water.

But you stared at him apprehensively and recoiled when he reached out to you. He was so frustrated; all he wanted was to take care of you; but you didn’t accept his care. But he was determined to keep trying.

“Maybe you’d like to wash off?” he offered. “You have a lot of blood. I can get you some clothes, though I don’t know if my shirt will fit you…”

You didn’t reply. He let out a suppressed sigh. “Follow me.” He ordered. Of course, you followed.

He led you into a washing room. While you stood around and observed the mosaic tiles, he scurried around for cloths and soap.

Cleaning off the blood and dirt of battle was difficult. Not because it didn’t come off, but because you kept timidly recoiling at his touch. He persisted, and maybe an hour later, he managed to rub the cloth across your arm before you swatted his hand away. Why clean off the blood? It seemed pointless to you.

Even at your weakest, you still had enough strength to hurt. His hand stung a bit, but he kept trying.

“Your sister is okay. She’s locked up, but okay. And the little boy with her is okay, too.” He said, trying his best to comfort you in some way.

You didn’t respond, only looked at him, curiously analysing his features to try and understand why they made your chest flutter.

“You’ll be alright, too. I’ll make sure of it. Come find me if you’re scared or hurt.” He said with a sincere smile. Small, but sincere.

You coughed a bit when you tried to speak. Armin gave you water, pleased when you took it so willingly from his hands.

That was the only time you attempted to speak to him, except for when he carried you to a soft cot. When he laid your heavy bones down to rest, you looked up at him with a serious face.

You asked a familiar question, “Why are you so kind to me?”

Armin looked at you, withholding all his emotions in his expression.

“Why?” you repeated. You sounded so eager to know, so confused by the truth that showed in his tender gaze.

“Because...” he began quietly, thinking over his answer and choosing his words slowly and carefully. “Although you maintain that... expressionless face, I know — I can feel — that beneath it you're just a person like me.”

His face reddened a bit.

[chiniece-curlygirlystory]

Girlhood + Hair

A huge part of girlhood for me was surrounded by my hair, particularly how it was styled. Being a young black girl in the Caribbean, I think it's indicative of our experience at one point we'd sit in between our mother's legs or a very close relative to have our hair braided on a Sunday afternoon before school on Monday. Styles ranged from extravagant partings in canerows, braids, and two-strand twists adorned with clips, bubbles, and ribbons to make us look presentable. This was the case for me until at some stage my hair was relaxed. Moving from detailed and creative hair designs downgrading to a simple container of chemicals making my once kinky hair filled with expression into a sleek conformative look. I can remember being 6 years old when this happened, my mother had relaxed hair it was easier for her to manage at the time and she thought why not do the same to me? I was old enough for my young scalp to take on the harsh chemicals. I still remember the pink and green box with the little girl on the packaging her hair straight with curler set curls in them at the end, I thought wow I'd look so pretty like that too. Although now I look back on it as the innocence of my virgin hair being stolen from me. After I turned 14 I decided to no longer have my hair chemically relaxed I wanted to get to know my natural hair. I couldn't remember what my hair looked like when I was robbed of an experience figuring out how to manage my hair. So I took it upon myself to go on the journey of becoming a natural again. I did the big chop and rocked my tiny afro for quite some time then my sister did my hair in afro kinky twists for the first time. It made me feel like the prettiest girl on earth and no one could tell me otherwise. She had never done that style before on anyone, I was basically her guinea pig so she could figure out how to do it on herself. I of course was more than willing to be a lab rat, they looked wonky but I didn't care I loved them because I had never seen myself like that before. I felt pretty with my hair relaxed yes, I loved getting my hair put into a fresh curler set every Sunday, but something about the kinky twists had just resonated with me more. I felt a sense of identity with all its imperfections the wonky parts, I felt different and that was better than anything in the world. Another part of your hair journey as a young black girl was when you were allowed to get your first set of box braids with colour at the ends. For some reason, the universal option chosen is more often than not purple.  I've asked my friends and they too said their first experience with coloured braids was purple. We all gravitated to purple there's something so innocent about our collective love of the colour purple in our hair as young girls juxtaposed our different tones of beautiful skin we all looked phenomenal. Even now as I'm on the cusp of being a full-blown adult entering my 20s I still find myself experimenting with my hair in different styles. This year alone I've done several styles from faux locs, butterfly locs, Marley twists, box braids with beads, French braids and lace front wigs. I always find myself back to kinky twists, they hold a special place in my heart they opened my eyes to see my true beauty in a natural state. My younger self got to experience that feeling of getting a natural hairstyle done for the first time I'll never be able to get that back again  I do envy my younger self for having that feeling of being renewed, reborn, liberated even. Hair and one’s journey with their hair is a particularly important part of girlhood specifically black girlhood that no one speaks on and I'm glad that I'm able to do so through my blog.

     I didn't go natural I started to love the hair I was born with.

           -Your favourite Curly Girly 

All photos used can be found in the linked Pinterest board :)

[prettythinguglylie]

i'll pay for my place by the ring.

DOUBLE PROPOSAL POST-CANON THOUGHT .

"Can I tell you something?" Jean asks softly and while he could be resentful like he knows Connie quietly is or Nicolo has never stopped being, he can no longer fond it in himself to be angry as he watches Gabi's eyes light up excitedly.

She nods, her head moving with great velocity and Jean Kirstein quietly admits to himself that she reminds him of a younger version of himself, that she reminds him of his greatest enemy and most terrible friend - he doesn't bring up the Eren Yeager he knew : no one, especially those from Marley, care to know that version.

He doesn't tell her. Instead, he tells her, "I'm proposing to your cousin soon."

She's older now, much taller and Falco is growing into broad shoulders and a steady handsomeness: (he looks like Colt, Reiner had whispered to him one night and he doesn't tell him that he doesn't know who Colt is.): but when her face twists, his brain confuses it as repulsion, as disgust at the prospect of her hero marrying a Paradis devil.

Jean recognizes the girl from the airship in her for the first time in a very long time.

"You can't!" She protests, her voice cracking on the syllables and Jean feels the sting of resentment, of hurt that only comes when you care; he quite likes Gabi and he thought she liked him, it aches in a way he doesn't care to try for anything other than anger,

"Huh?? Fuck did you say, you little shit?" It's a threat but its not because she's still built so oddly, broadish shoulders and thin wrists and Jean thinks she looks like a fighter, like a large cat that the scouts had put out warnings about.

Falco's hand comes up between them, nervous and stable but when he steps in front of them - between them - and his eyes linger on Gabi, Jean knows he's lost. Knows what it feels like to be hopelessly in love with a Braun firsthand.

"What Gabi means," Falco starts and his voice carries more authority than it had last time Jean had spoken to him - he thinks spending time with Levi is giving this kid a backbone, "is that Vice Admi-"

There is no war anymore and Falco knows that but his tongue slips and both Jean and Gabi flinch at the reminder of what was before, "what Reiner wants is likely - "

Gabi must sense something or feel some kind of guilt because suddenly, she's spewing, "Reiner'sgonnaproposetoyoualready!!"

Jean feels oddly faint.

Part 2?

[moonspirit]

I remember an anonymous asked about if Mr. Leonhart still abuse, hit her. But this time what would be Mikasa and hitch's reaction? What would they do or say?

Like Mikasa and hitch are together for some reason and they saw bruises and cuts on Annie, and Infront of them, saw Mr. Leonhart physically abusing, hitting Annie.

For Mikasa, they are close, aside from the fact that Annie and his childhood friend Armin are together, became close after comforting each other when both having a breakdown, and the okapi scene, and the fact that Annie is her old rival and still rival too but friends, when they are cadets she also respect Annie, and even now she also saw Annie as her equal, in fighting... So seeing Annie letting herself get abuse and hit by the same man that's the reason she fights for the Marley, that she waited for (9 years?) just to see him? Nuh uh I don't think Mikasa would just stand there and watch that man hit and abuse her friend and rival..

And for hitch, seeing this, her former roommate, who's so strong, who fights them to death for her father, who would do anything just to get back to him, get hit and abuse by the same man? The same man that the reason why Annie keep fighting, and the same reason that Annie told her would kill anyone again just to jet back to him? I think hitch would explode, like her friend who would sacrifice everything just to get back to him, that she herself help Annie to escape just to get back to her father, would hit her? Nuh uh uh, I believe that hitch would take me. Leonhart's cane and idunno wanted to hit him so bad...

Both would be uhh disbelief, seeing once an enemy, a strong soldier warrior who would fight anyone and anything are letting her self get abuse, hit, hurt, beaten, and injured.... Just because she loves him the most and the person she only wanted to seek love, since no one gives her, since her biological parents abandoned her...

(Please go too into details!!)

Hello there!

Oohhhh it's a Hitchannie Mikaani ask! (well, kind of).

It's always very lovely to think of these three in the same space and scene. Annie inviting all the women of the AoT world to become unintentionally and uninhibitedly attached to her will always be funny xD

But let's get to it!

Between Hitch and Mikasa, it's the latter who's more prone to losing her temper and acting on impulse. Combined with her Ackerman strength, if she was to see Annie being hit by her father before her eyes, it wouldn't surprise me if she immediately went to defend Annie from being abused any further, going as far as to hurt Mr. Leonhardt for it in some way (like twisting his arm behind his back or knocking him down to the ground). This can also give rise to a certain angst to be had between Annie and Mikasa; one lost both parents in brutal murders, while one only has a father and treasures him like her life depends on it. If Mikasa hurts Mr. Leonhardt in the process of protecting Annie, she would maybe have to face the question of, "Do you even know what it's like to finally get back to your only family?"

With Hitch... her way of protecting Annie could be a lot more of personal and verbal attacks. Being aware of Annie's motivation for doing all the damage she did, it would be particularly horrifying to see that very same motivation hit and abuse her former gloomy roommate. Like a personal betrayal. Hitch really became so attached to Annie that she spent a great deal of her time and energy worrying about her; it gives a lot away for a person who always seemed very careful about where her efforts really went. It's also something of a protective mode she has around Annie tbh; that realization that such a touch, dangerous and strong person was driven only by a desperation to be united with someone - a very soft purpose, you see? A contrast, so to speak. Hitch would spit in Mr. Leonhardt's face (metaphorically... for the most part...) and call him out on his violent behaviour and terrible parenting. I'd say that would be her way of defending Annie.

Then again, both Hitch and Mikasa recognize Annie's vulnerability in the face of love and family - to say they become furious when seeing Annie being abused is an understatement tbh. :>

[peachymilkandcream]

Need part two of the Marleyan Levi fic lol

The Truth About You|Part 2|Levi x Evelyn AU

(A/N: I'm sorry I had to split it into two, but the other one was getting too long and I wanted to full flesh out another part. But I hope you all didn't mind waiting in between parts. Hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!)

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, imprisonment, yandere behaviour/themes, misogyny, forced pregnancy, Evelyn's essentially Levi's slave and breeding machine, violence, degradation, attempted suicide, manipulation, mind breaking, forced marriage, bdsm, mildest cumflation because I'm a bit silly, etc.

================================================

A wave of nausea announced Evelyn's return to consciousness. How long she had been out she wasn't sure. It was too long. She had been used, dumped, and now was utterly alone.

She took this opportunity to take in her surroundings. Looking at everything to see if there was a an escape route she could secure. But the reality was this was tiny basement, cramped with little more than the bed she occupied now and a table and chair, the one she had been in when this whole ordeal started. Other than that it was completely empty but sterilely clean. Like a hospital.

Evelyn was about to start her one and only plan, scream until someone freed her when the door from up a set of stairs opened. She backed away into the corners of the room as Levi marched down the stairs already looking weary of her rebellion.

"Ah. You're awake. Finally. Sleep well?"

"Please Captain, just let me go- I won't tell anyone anything I swear-"

"So now we get to it. You did hear something. Tell me and I'll consider it."

She burst into tears. "I don't even know what I heard. About some place or party or person named Marley, Reiner and Bertholdt, a mission and a secret identity. But nothing I could piece together I swear!"

Through her tears she didn't notice his expression darkening the more she spoke. But by the time she wiped her eyes that his confident attitude had melted away into something more sinister.

"I see. Not very much then." He turns from her and takes something out of his pocket, placing it on the table.

"Yes I swear." She tries to see what it is but his body covers it. "And what I know I won't tell anyone I swear on my life! Please just let me go-"

"Oh I know you won't tell anyone my dear." He turns back to her, and she can see what looks to be the outline of handcuffs and a gag on the table before him, a small bottle there as well. "Because you're not leaving."

"But why I promised! And you said yourself I don't know much-"

"Much, true. But enough, yes."

As he stalked closer she tried to back up, met with cold concrete. "Please-"

Suddenly his hands pry open her mouth, and force something inside. She tries to fight back, to not swallow but he cuts off her airways with his hands.

"Swallow. Swallow you filthy slut like you'll swallow my cum-"

Eventually she does, soon recognizing the same drugs he had given to her before. The world going loopy as she registers the handcuffs, the gag, and more pain and pleasure mixed. Was this to be her life? She dreaded it and what would become of her.

================================================

For days this torture continued. Her lower stomach swelled with his cum from countless rounds of breaking her will.

Currently she was in some kind of makeshift breeding bench, subjected to him beating her with a riding crop. He hadn't stopped in days, only giving her slight peace when he needed to rest.

She had been on and off drugs so much that her mind was a twisted and reality didn't even feel real anymore. All of that on an empty stomach and lack of hydration made her desperate to get out of this hell-scape. She complied with him to earn precious minutes of rest and a scrap of food. It wasn't much, but enough to keep her going.

"Look at you. You devils pretend that you don't deserve the punishment coming to you, and yet here you are a whore for all this. At my hands you're submitting to be cleansed of your ancestors sins, reduced to nothing more than a vessel to bear good Eldian children. If we can't slaughter you out of existence, we'll breed you out."

A small cry escapes as he continues, he always enjoyed degrading her while doing this. Telling her things she didn't understand and presenting them like the truth. Part of her even started to believe him, that she deserved this. That this is what she was destined for.

"Don't pass out on me again, I'm not done with you."

================================================

The cycle continued until she was so fucked out of her mind obedience became natural. In this form of captivity, she gave birth to a child, promised to be taken from her when he was weaned.

"Or else your devil mind will infect him." Was the reasoning.

Life continued on, Levi switching sides a few times to better his interests, but ultimately landing on top with each new scheme. There was promises of marriage when this was all over, so that their children wouldn't be treated differently when they grew. But Evelyn knew better, she doubted if he would ever marry her. He wanted life like this.

With his little plaything, locked away, never to be free.