#posting this so i stop being sad about the finale lmao

[azzimations]

Never thought I'd make this, especially considering the last time I drew Stampy was,,, 7 years ago.

The lovely world was such a big part of my childhood, though, so I feel like I had to do this. I wouldn't be the person I am without stampy, and to this day my xbox skin is his character. Now that Stampy's Lovely World finally ended, I figured I'd go back and draw him again, for old times sake.

Thank you, Stampy.

[st7rnioioss]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ rainy days

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nothing, kissing, swearing

a/n: hellooo. so so so sorry for not posting anything, i was on a school trip to rome for a week! brewed this up super quickly, sorry if you can tell it hurried lmao. I LOVE YOUUU ALL

་༘࿐˚⋆ it had been raining constantly the whole day. the gentle patter of rain on the windows created a cozy atmosphere, the dark clouds outside only adding to the feeling of a huge embrace.

most people would find this weather boring or sad, unable to open the windows, or go outside, almost isolating themselves from the outside and social world. opposite to you, you loved this type of weather. being able to allow yourself to snuggle up inside on either your couch or shared bed with matt, you were far from complaining about anything.

་༘࿐˚⋆ your past week had been frantic to say the least. on top of that it felt like it was never coming to a stop. taking extra shifts, having your amount of rude customers tripled, and your meetings seeming endless. there was nothing more you wanted than going home to your boyfriend and waste away the weekend in each other's arms.

you left the sliding doors to your workplace, running to your car to avoid getting too drenched in the hectic weather. you slouched down in the driver's seat, immediately closing the door before unbuttoning your blazer to throw it in the passenger seat beside you.

it took you a second before you turned on the car, checking to see if any mascara had been smudged, using the tiny mirror in the sun visor of your car. the drive home wasn’t too bad. your shift had ended late, so the traffic in boston was bearable, but of course not one hundred percent avoidable due to it being a Friday night.

when you arrived in your driveway you didn’t waste a second to grab your blazer and bag, running inside again to avoid the rain soaking you. the door swung open, closing behind you as you entered the hall. 

“matt, I’m home! finally,” you yelled, taking off your heels, steadying yourself by grabbing onto the wall.  in a matter of a few seconds, matt entered the hall with a blanket wrapped around him.

for a second you just stared at each other, your tired-looking face instantly lighting up into a toothy grin. matt had never looked this cozy or huggable. “hi. sorry, i feel asleep, i look like a mess.” matt mumbled, his voice a little deeper than normally, probably due to his current state. 

you didn’t answer him because deep down you didn’t mind at all. he looked so adorable. taking a few steps forward you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a tight hug.

“god, i’ve missed you so much,” you whispered into his neck, not planning to let go of him anytime soon.

“what do you mean, i literally saw you this morning?” matt chuckled, fisting his blanket to wrap it around the both of you.

“yeah, but my week has never been this packed. i feel like i haven’t seen you for weeks,” you smile back, even though he couldn’t see it, closing your eyes as you immediately got comfortable from just his touch and presence.

slowly, matt made his way backwards into the living room, careful not to hit any interior, still having his arms and blanket around you.

“don’t worry one bit about it. at least we have the whole weekend to spend together, and then we’ll pray next week is a little different,” matt laughed at his emphasis on ‘pray’, gently removing his arms from around your shoulders to let you sit on the couch.

you collapsed on the couch, immediately throwing your head back in pure exhaustion.

“plus, it’s raining.” matt smiled excitedly, allowing himself to lay his head into your lap. 

you couldn’t hold back your smile, his pure excitement from rain making you blush.

“oh god, i love you so much, matt. but don’t get too comfortable, i need to get out of this skirt.” you giggled, holding onto matt’s jaw as he got up with a fake pout, eliciting a laugh from the both of you.

“and- and then chris said i was pining for you, telling me to stop bitching and whining. so then i went home again and fell asleep. and with god’s grace, you walked into the hall,” matt continued to talk about his day, sitting next to you on the couch.

the rain was still pouring outside. occasionally there would be a thunder or lightning strike, but it only added to the atmosphere. not that weather like this was enjoyable, but both you and matt found it extremely comforting.

“seriously? what the fuck, you went to chris’s place to talk about me?” you laughed, taking another sip of your cup of tea.

you were wearing matt’s pajamas since he refused to let you use your own, a huge, heavy blanket resting around you as you and matt continued on with your conversation.

matt just nodded, taking another sip from his cup to hide his reddening face. there was silence for a bit, but it was comfortable.

 it didn’t last too long, because in the matter of a second, matt was sprawled out on top of you, making you laugh loudly, attempting to push him off of you but still being gentle with your pushing and kicking.

the night ended cuddled up in your shared bed, the curtains shut but the moonlight shining palely through it. one of your hands were under the covers, holding matt’s, the other resting on his cheek. the storm outside seemed to be endless since you could still hear the comforting patter on the windows.

“i love the rain,” you randomly whisper, brushing a few strands of hair out of matt’s eyes with a smile. he smiled back, pecking your forehead with adoration.

“me too. it’s definitely my favorite type of weather, no doubt.” matt whispered back, still playing with your hair.

you nod, shuffling a bit around to get comfortable under the thick covers, but luckily you weren’t too hot or too cold. matt made sure to hold tightly onto your hand, holding you as if you were gonna slip out of his grip.

“but, i love my boyfriend even more,” you said in a sing-song voice, giggling at his face, attempting to look very confused.

“ohh. i wonder who that could be. i haven’t seen you around with a lot of guys recently?” he tried to hold back a laugh, tapping his chin as if he was deeply philosophizing.

you let out a laugh, making matt drop his act to join in on your laughter. he pulled you even closer, if possible, letting you rest your head into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head.

safe to say, you fell asleep comfortably. nothing but silence, except matt and your’s silent snoring and of course, the rain. it was days like this that made up to your week if it had been tough. tea, rain, blankets, boyfriend, movies, cuddles and kisses.

a/n: ughh when is it fall again? i need itttttt

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lillies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost @chrisstopherfilmed @sturniolossss @ducksturniolo @junnniiieee07 @klaus223492 @urfavvev3lyn @vschrissturn @cicimayx @keerahsturn @sturniolololover @domaniquessidehoe @sturniolossss @orangelala @sturnioloslvtt@gwenloremain@k-l-a-w-s @pearlzier @pjmpcyy @mbsbaby

[usagifuyusummer]

Family Dinner Night!

Congrats Peri(winkle) for finally getting the Godparenting license!!! 🥳🥳🥳 - from your loving parents and godbrother 💖💖💖

More concept art and as usual my insane ramblings below.

I NEED TO GET THE CREATIVE URGES OUT OF MY HEAD!!! It has been bothering with my motivation to finish my gazillions of homeworks lmao. I have so many ideas I need to let out!!! It's suffocating. I hope this will satisfy my creative urges for a while... Or not I will yap about my FOP AU on a separate post (when I'm able).

I can't stop being sad thinking about this family lol. Timmy 😭😭😭

I am not kidding when I say that my head is just filled with so many things that I want to contribute in the FOP fanworks lol. There's a lot I want to do, but so little time...

For now, I've decided to practice my take on the FOP artstyle. I wanted to do something simple as drawing and coloring practice. That's why the coloring this time is flat with no shadings. I think the show doesn't focus on shaded colors too much (except on scenes where there's a heavy implication of day/night, for shock value, etc.).

Just wanted to draw something cute because I haven't been feeling so swell lately. Nothing too poetic or detailed this time.

Other than that, two of the outfits this time is actually inspired by @suki-na-kumo for Peri and an image I found floating around in Twitter/X (sorry I don't remember who shared it) for Timmy's design. Suki-na-kumo's FOP family redesigns are so cool and adorable! I like that they always include flowy attributes in Peri's outfits lol. It makes him look like a pampered brat (which he kinda is seeing how his family coddles him), an otherworldly prince and also a Twink TM (that is unavoidable lol). I kinda want to draw their other FOP redesigns, but I'll just go with Peri's first.

I am not sure where that 18 year old Timmy design is from, but it kinda can be his design for those who theorise him on becoming a lawyer as an adult. There's a lot of instances where Timmy is wearing a suit in the show, but this design is one of my favs due to the hairstyle change. My adult Timmy designs in the future will be influenced from this piece of official art. I wonder if there are more Timmy designs in the wild wild west out there that I haven't seen... It is certainly an interesting find (Teen AJ is also there, and his design also looks cool to me).

Cosmo and Wanda's oufits are something that I cooked up. I don't think the coloring looks good... I just did this on a whim, and for about 13 hours. Damn, I am procrastinating on my work lmao.

Still, the context this time is, that they've had a family dinner to celebrate on Peri's achievement on finally obtaining his godparenting license!!! Good for him!!!

This is an AU if Timmy somehow was able to find a loophole in the "losing your memories of your fairy godparents after you become an adult" rule. Because of that, he continued his life as normal (as Timmy's chaotic life can be), but this time he is able to keep in contact with his fairy family even if they're not contractually obligated to stick together. Timmy does live with the Fairywinkle Cosma's around his college to early work years, but he eventually was able to move out and live on his own at where he works as a lawyer after a while in his adulthood. (His birth parents eventually went on a lifetime vacation without him or just went away for too long that Timmy just lives on his own a lot after he is 18 and above...)

Despite living on his own nowadays (In a New Wish context), Timmy does keep in contact with his fairy family and visits them when he's not busy with his job. Cosmo and Wanda still took a long vacation in this AU, first due to, yeah, Timmy is no easy feat as a godchild lol, and second, they actually want to take their time to raise BOTH of their children (even if Timmy is no longer a child/godchild) and guide them until they're stable adults. Timmy during college years actually only stays with the Fairywinkle Cosma's on holidays, so when Timmy's busy with college, that is when Cosmo and Wanda take their time relaxing lmao.

Sometimes when they really want to have some time alone or when Peri wants to see his bro, they will send Peri to Timmy's college for a day or more. Timmy babysits Peri so much during his college years lol. They both had fun though! With a lot of Peri newfound nuclear fairy power shenanigans at Timmy's college lmao. Studying law and taking the bar exam has never been more chaotic with babysitting a nuclear powered fairy child.

There's a lot more on this AU that I've been thinking, but I'll stop here for now. I need to gather my AU ideas in one post sometime later.

Also, Peri and Timmy are both adults here, Peri's around his 20's here and Timmy is on his early 30's I think. Cosmo, Wanda, and Peri are in their human disguises here, because they want to learn more about human culture (A New Wish context) while also having the desire to be more in Timmy's life.

I headcannon Timmy to be kinda short in his adulthood. This is also a nod to that episode when his fairy family used imperfect human disguises, even Poof/Peri was taller than Timmy in his human baby disguise lol. And also hey, wearing braces during his teen years paid off! (his big teeth are visible only when he opens his mouth lol)

As usual, here's some concept art and a png lineart pic if you want to use it to color it better than I did lmao. (that was a long yapping session... thanks for reading)

[solardrop]

I wanted to post some excerpts from two of my Hotch wips to see which one people find more interesting! I included a poll at the bottom because I know a lot of people don't like commenting but I'd appreciate comments, asks, etc about the one you like more as well! There are a lot of typos and issues in these but they are just first drafts!

Both of these will end up being nsfw stories so minors please do not interact with this post (because you won't be interacting with the actual fics anyway)

this one is the first hotch fic I ever tried to write. I abandoned it because I felt like my first fic being a smut was too horny (only for my first posted fic to still be a smut...lol). But rereading it I actually still really like the idea I just need to actually figure out where I wanna go with it. Its currently very lovingly titled: "A sad attempt at a hotchner fic". WIll definitely be changed before I actually post it LMAO. Maybe to "strawberry salt" or something

He grabs you by the hips as he leans against the headboard. Sliding you until the soft curve of your belly meets his, and the swell of your breasts push against his collarbone. The wiry hairs across the top of his legs tickle your inner thighs. His eyes drift downward for a brief moment, distracted from his original mission, before he places a quick kiss on your sternum. “What was that again baby?” He smiled up at you. An absolute shit-eating grin if you say so yourself. Trying to sweet talk and ‘baby’ you out of this wasn’t going to work. Neither was the mischievous hand sliding under your robe towards the curve of your ass. “Aaron,” you swat his hand from below you, “how many times are you gonna use my body wash  and leave me with nothing!?” This makes him grin wider, his dimples teasing and tempting for a kiss. Your belly warms as you look at him beneath you. How could a man so damn infuriatingly be so annoyingly sexy? His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, it takes all your self-control to stop from moaning at the sight. You force yourself to look up from his lips and raise your hand to lightly pinch the very tip of his nose. A soft blush forms on the skin there when you remove your fingers. “Not funny Aar! Now I smell like Alaskan sea salt and thunderstorms instead of Strawberry sugar.”  “Well. I think you smell amazing.” He buries himself in your neck, inhaling deeply. “If you think so, then use your own body wash!”

This second one is just called "shower" it's my longest wip so far and I like it a lot but I need to rework a lot of things about it because its a lot of word vomit right now:

Your thoughts are interrupted by Aaron reapproaching you, still dressed in his button-up, the sleeves now rolled up his thick forearms. He tries to get the detachable showerhead when you reach up — with your good arm— and stop him.  “What are you doing?” you question. “Getting the showerhead so I can help you shower?” “Your clothes are still on.” “Yes? What’s wrong—” He pauses, face marked with confusion until he slowly pieces together your meaning, “Honey, you’re injured. I’m showering you, not showering with you.” He laughs reaching for the hose again before you stop him. “I’m not a patient. I’m your fiancee,” you seethe, “You’re not gonna scrub me down like I’m some sweet little old lady. Get in here, Hotchner.” His arms cross over the expanse of his chest, staring you down like he was giving you a field order to comply to. Too bad you weren’t scared of him. You stare back at him, the water streaming down your body as the moment passes. He breaks eye contact and begins unbuttoning his shirt. “Alright,” he sighs, “but we’re just getting clean and getting out.” He shrugs off his shirt, revealing beauty of his broad body to you. You eyes travel, admiring the way the muscles move under his skin as he scratches the soft pudge of his belly. He unbuckles his belt and pants. You bite your lip as he finally hooks his fingers in his pants and boxers, sliding the fabric down, slowly exposing the hair lined down his lower belly before his hands just stop. Your eyes flick up to his at the clearing of his throat. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “No funny business. I promise,” you whine.

[leclercloml]

Blaugrana Girl | PG8

pairing: pedri gonzalez x modric!reader

summary: barcelona's golden boy and La Liga's starboy, who've been single for a while and have finally started dating someone, and that someone turns out to be none other than the daughter of the famous midfielder of their biggest rival and the 2018 Ballon d'Or winner, Luka Modric.

genre: SMAU

warnings: google translated spanish and croatian, grammar mistakes i guess, incorrect match dates (to match the storyline)

author's note: I can't believe this is my first time doing a footballer fic even though football is my favourite sport alongside f1, anyways hope you guys like it

ynmodric

liked by judebellingham , lukamodric10 , pedri and 4,789,629 others

ynmodric 🕶️🤍

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lukamodric10 moja prekrasna kćer 🤍 (my gorgeous daughter)

⤷ynmodric Hvala ti dad 🫶🏻 (thank you dad)

⤷username THE father and daughter duo.

toni.kr8s hermosa chica 😊🤍 (beautiful girl)

⤷ynmodric gracias, tío!! (thanks uncle)

⤷username she's basically daughter of every older player in rm 😭😭😭

⤷username it's adorable 😭🫶🏻

username she's so iconic for being a culer, I love her sm.

⤷username yeah the fact that her dad is a madrid legend but she's a culer makes it 10× funnier

⤷username she's a culer?

⤷username yupp, Luka said it himself in post match interview against barca "yeah we won, my daughter might be very sad, since she likes barcelona more"

username she's an icon, she's a legend and she is the moment.

username she's so beautiful 😭😭

username her fashion sense tho>>>>

fedevalverde Eres tan genial, ¿ser mi amigo? (You're so cool, be my friend?)

⤷ynmodric no.

⤷rodrygogoes 😂🫵🏻

⤷username rodryyyy 😭😭😭

⤷username i love these three so much 😭

username wifey.

ynmodric

liked by judebellingham, toni.kr8s , pedri and 2,749,730 others

yourinstagram no I still haven't forgave him for 2 goals against us but I guess he's kinda cool.

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judebellingham I have apologised 10 times already.

⤷ynmodric yes, and I do not forgive you, and that win was beginners luck

⤷username what a bitch hating on the team her father play for and calling our rivals "us" ungrateful bastards.

⤷username WOAH calm your horses, it's all joke when Luka, Jude and other madrid guys don't mind it, why is it bothering you sm, a lot of players kid support their dad's/mom's rivals, it's common in football world chill.

⤷username "ungreatful bastard" bro she is literally the most grateful person ever.

⤷username chill out, it's all joke and just because she supports barca doesn't mean she's "ungreatful".

username i love the mad madridistas in comments, cry more.

⤷username no but imagine hating on someone just because they don't support your favourite lmfao.

username Jude x y/n 👀

⤷username say another word and I'll finna throw hands

username pedri you ain't slick with that like.

⤷username homeboy thinking he can pull her.

⤷username he's can tho-

⤷username he can but I don't think Jude will miss his chance

⤷username this is exactly what I hate, she would post just one player and the shipping is there, first with Valverde (he literally had a girlfriend) and then Rodrygo and now Jude, can you all just stop?

⤷username fr fr, like her dad plays for that club, it's obvious she's gonna be friends with the players around her age and by these shippings you all are just ruining their friendship.

username pedri liked.....

⤷username he likes all of her posts...and vice versa....

⤷username and she's a culer....

⤷username yeah we know she's a culer you don't need to mention it every 2 seconds.

⤷username yeah you're right but she's a culer 🤷🏻‍♀️

⤷username lmao 😭

⤷username Luka wouldn't like that

⤷username did he told you that?

username ok but why do I ship.

⤷username kys.

⤷username STRAIGHT to the point 💀

username alright can we stop talking about jude and pedri and talk about HER like she look so beautiful.

⤷username oh my god finally! Everyone is just "oh Jude and y/n i ship" , "oh pedri in the likes, I ship" NO! it ain't about them, it's about y/n.

⤷username she so fucking gorgeous

username mother. (she's 19)

username y/n i would lick the floor you walk on.

⤷username WOAH! now calm down there.

username new friendship at bernabeu

username beautiful!

pedri

liked by pablogavi , _rl9 , ynmodric and 56,739,428 others

pedri força barça ye FUERZA TENERIFE!! 💪🏻💔🏝️

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pablogavi vamos hermano!! (Let's go brother!!)

⤷pedri Muchas gracias hermano ❤️. (Thank you so much bro)

⤷username brothers 😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

⤷username THE golden boys.

⤷username i love them your honour

_rl9 eras increíble pequeño (you were incredible little one)

liked by pedri

⤷username ahhhhh they're literally a family

⤷username mes que un club 💙❤️

username pedri potter 🎩🪄

username he's baaackkkk

username you were amazing pedri! Praying for tenerife 🫶🏻

username força pedri y fuerza tenerife!

adidas magician 🪄

⤷username adidas admin is just like us fr.

ynmodric incredible performance! praying for tenerife 🇮🇨❤️

⤷pedri muchas gracias y/n, realmente lo aprecio ❤️ (thank you so much y/n, i really appreciate it)

⤷username ajssvakdbsnkshdksdj yes yes yes

⤷username screaming!!!!!

⤷username she have commented on Lewy's acc multiple times but this is the first time she have commented on Pedri's post, we're winning!!!

⤷username the red heart 😭😭😭

⤷username y/n baby come back home.

⤷username am I dreaming???

⤷username they'll be the power couple.

username y/n's comment is gonna make a lot of madristas mad 😭😭

⤷username who even cares about them.

username vamos pedri!!! Visca barca!

ynmodric

tenerife, canary islands, spain

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, pedri and 2,749,825 others

ynmodric no fire could ever burn the beauty of this place 🏝️

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username she's so beautiful wtf

username y/n adopt me please.

vinijr hope you're enjoying your vacation 🏝️

⤷ynmodric very much 🌚

⤷username excuse me? What's that emoji supposed to mean?

username canary islands?? TENERIFE??!!

⤷username what's wrong with canary islands?

⤷username nothing it's just she's in Tenerife!

⤷username yeah well then what's wrong with tenerife?

⤷username you're joking right? You do know who's from tenerife?

⤷username who?

⤷username pedri, the barca midfielder.

⤷username excuse me???!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??

judebellingham spending summer alone? Might be boring af.

⤷ynmodric who said I was alone?

⤷username HELLO??? JUDE, VINI WHAT DO YOU BOTH KNOW?

⤷username WHOEVER is with MY wife, leave.

⤷username see I'm not trying to be delusional and all shit but whenever someone mention canaries or tenerife the only person i could think of is Pedri 😭

⤷username THEY would break the football internet.

⤷username i can already imagine the headlines 😭

username oh my god this was not on my 2023 bingo card.

username i always shipped them so.

⤷username me too 😭😭

username imagine pedri posting himself in canary islands after this

⤷username lmfao that would be iconic.

pedri

tenerife, canary islands, spain

liked by pablogavi , _ferminlopez, ynmodric and 26,739,198 others

pedri summer break 🏝️

view comments

username ALRIGHT WHAT THE FUCK, PEDRO GONZALEZ LOPEZ, WHO GAVE YOU RIGHTS TO COME ON INSTAGRAM HALF NAKED??

username the muscles I'm on my knees.

username I PREDICTED IT! NO ONE CAN SAY OTHER WISE.

⤷username predicted what?

⤷username go check y/n modric's post, her and pedri are spending summer vacation together !!!

⤷username I JUST DID HELLO??!! SOMEONE EVEN COMMENTED SAYING "imagine pedri posting himself in canary islands after this" and he did 😭!!

⤷username he saw the comments and went like "alr let's give you all what you want" icon fr. 😭

pablogavi I wonder when was the last time I saw that location on a post 🤔.

⤷pedri keep wondering.

⤷username under y/n's post!!!

liked by pablogavi

⤷username he liked!!!

⤷username they're together 😭

⤷username Jude punching the air rn

⤷username they were just friends.

⤷username pedri and y/n THE power couple

username if they ever had kids yk the midfield genes are gonna be crazy

⤷username they've not even confirmed their relationship yet and you're already talking about kids 😭😭

username this is MY roman empire

_ferminlopez looking good hermano 😉

⤷username HE KNOWS.

username this was not on my 2023 bingo card

⤷username same 😭

⤷username it was on no one's 😭😭

username SO WE CAN SEE Y/N WEARING A BARCA JERSEY???

⤷username never

Twitter

Instagram

ynmodric

liked by pedri , judebellingham, vinijr and 3,638,629 others

ynmodric it was supposed to be a surprise or soft launch or whatever but y'all are literal Sherlock Holmes, so here it is, the love of my life, the most precious thing to me, MY beautiful boyfriend, te amo bebe ❤️ (AND don't worry y'all dad approves)

tagged; pedri

view comments

pedri was the last pic really necessary???

⤷ynmodric what? you look cute!!!

⤷vinijr you really do 😹

⤷username lmao 😭

⤷username divided by rivalry united by y/n

⤷username el clasico gonna be more fun now

pedri te amo mucho ❤️

⤷ynmodric te amo mucho también❤️

_ferminlopez we're not sherlock holmes, you both are just stupid.

⤷ynmodric OK rude.

⤷pablogavi he's right tho, you both made it so obvious 💀

⤷pedri go away, both of you.

⤷username I'M DYING 😭

⤷username i mean they're not wrong, they both made it so obvious

lukamodric10 where did you get that picture from???

⤷ynmodric I have my ways don't worry.

⤷username I'm speechless.

pedri mi mujer 🫶🏻 (my woman)

⤷ynmodric yours only 🤍

⤷rodrygogoes gross 🤢

⤷ynmodric go away hater.

fedevalverde hermoso 😍 (beautiful)

⤷ynmodric thank you fed, but why tf do you comment like a 30 year old aunt.

⤷fedvalverde I do not??

⤷username you do 😭

⤷username I'm sorry valverde but you do 😭😭

username LUKA'S PIC I'M DYING, SHE'S SO ICONIC 😭

⤷ynmodric I mean you guys were so worried about his reaction and all stuff so

⤷username AHHHHHH!!!! SHE REPLIED

⤷username you won 😭

username Y/N IS WEARING A BARCA JERSEY, IN A MATCH!!?? WHY DIDN'T ANY OF US SAW THIS BEFORE

⤷ynmodric I'm surprised you sherlock people didn't found out earlier, guess i outsmarted you all.

⤷username outsmarted us fr fr

username they're the IT couple

username pedri you better treat my woman right or else 🤺

⤷username stop you're embarrassing.

⤷username 💀💀💀

lukamodric10 sviđa mi se, dobar je dečko 🤍(I like him, he's a good guy)

⤷ynmodric zaista je vrlo simpatičan (he indeed is very likeable)

⤷judebellingham @/pedri you have the approval from big man

⤷pedri appreciate it 🤍

⤷username never in my 1000 year of life i would've thought that barca players and real madrid players would have this kind of interaction

⤷username me too girl me too

pedri te amo ❤️

⤷ynmodric Yo también te amo ❤️

pedri

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pedri my no. 1 fan aka the love of my life, te amo mucho ❤️

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ynmodric proud to be the no.1 of the most perfect boy known to mankind

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⤷pablogavi it should be.

⤷ynmodric 📸; angry bird

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ynmodric Te amo mucho mi amor ❤️ (i love you so much my love)

⤷pedri Yo también te amo mucho mi amor❤️🫶🏻!!(I love you so much too mi amor)

⤷username GOD IT'S ME AGAIN

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[ultralightpoe]

Tiktok Trouble Pt 2- Jake Seresin

Authors Note: LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO SEE MORE 

Word Count: 2253

Warnings: Allusions to smexy times

Description: You love pranking your husband, and tiktok loves it too

Authors Plea: Hey guys! I love likes and reblogs and I thank you all so so much. BUT I LIVE FOR COMMENTS! I really enjoy when you guys tell me what you like and dislike and what you want to see more of, so I beg for more comments. LOVE YOU ALL!

Enjoy!

The morning of your errands had started off salty with Jake, who content with bitching about everything, and you had gotten just as snippy with him considering you had been in such a good mood when you both left the house. But he had worn you down, now you were sitting in the car with your thighs sticking to his leather seats like crazy (he hated air conditioning and the heat was just clinging to you) while he ran in and grabbed what he needed from this store. 

Normally Jake would take you in with him, but today he made a snippy comment about not wanting to be in there forever so you rolled your eyes and turned the music up as he got out, cracking the windows like you were a dog. 

It’s here you got the idea.

You had taken a break from posting pranks on tiktok, your guys’ sink had actually busted (Jake was so happy he watched the videos) and one of his old navy brothers had lost their lives so you both had flown out for the funeral. After that everything just seemed to be too busy, and Jakes mood was ever so cranky as of late. But today seemed like a good day to try and lighten the mood. So you set up your phone and waited, once you saw him come out of the store you began fighting something in the backseat. 

Jake, as first, seems to think you are looking for something and when he gets into the car he slaps your thigh lightly. “What’d you lose?”

“NOTHING! BUT THIS BITCH HAS LOST HER MIND!” You snap and start swinging at an imaginary figure in the back. Jake stops and stares at you, leaning against his door as he tries to figure out what is going on while you act out a very angry fight. 

“What. Is. Happening?”

“Bubs, she’s running her fucking mouth to me right now- seriously? No YOUR MOM-” You are about to swing at the air again and he catches your hand, pulling you back and reaching to feel your forehead. 

“We should get you some water-”

“Mind your fucking business!” You shout to the back and your husband nods aggressively and turns to the back to snap out a ‘bitch’ before turning to you and moving to buckle you in. 

“You tell her. You tell that….bitch?” He really doesn’t seem to know what to do, so he simply buckles you and reaches for the water bottle he brought, that’s when he sees your phone. “Oh for the love of-”

You’re laughing your ass off and he’s covering his face as you turn off the video. “Really?! I was so confused!”

“I’m sorry. You were being such a sourpuss this morning and I HAD TO!” You laugh, kissing his elbow as he continues rubbing his face.  “Love you bubs.”

“I love you too. Even when I think you’re batshit crazy.”

—------------------------

COMMENTS:

“The thigh slap- PLEASE LORD I’LL BE GOOD-”

“LMAO, when he finally just gives in and helps”

“SNSJKSJJANNX X I WANT THEM BOTH! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!”

“Y/n has now proven she can fight anyone that tries to take her man”

—-----------------------

“Sugar?!” Jake calls from the bottom of the stairs, tapping his foot a little impatiently as he waits for your response. You, being the perfect wife who would never do anything wrong in her life ever, closed out the webpage of adoptable dogs that your husband specifically said no to and ran to the stairs. 

“Yeah bubs? What’s up?” You smile, watching his face morph into suspicion. 

“Didn’t like that one bit- but I need to run to the store and figure out what pipes match our sink. You’ll be okay here?”

“Will I be okay in the air conditioned house with my handsome husband out going to get stuff for our sink? All lonely and sad and ever so hor-”

“Okay okay, just gimme a kiss.” He laughs, waiting for you to run down the stairs and kiss him before you get an idea and run back up the stairs as he leaves. 

You snatch your phone and film a quick video of him getting into the car before screen recording yourself texting him ‘Come over he just left’ once you are sure he’s down the block.  Then you wait, until you hear a sharp screech and see his car zooming into the driveway. You set up your phone to record on his dresser and run to your shared bathroom as he books it up the stairs. 

“Y/n?” He asks when he reaches the bedroom, looking nothing less of pissed. 

“Yeah bubs? I thought you were going out?” You call from the bathroom, fixing your hair as you waited. 

“I decided that you broke the sink and should come with me.” He says sternly, crossing his arms and leaning on your dresser, the camera catching his jaw flex perfectly.  You swing the door open with wide eyes looking nothing less than excited. 

“Can we stop for pops?” You know he loves when you say pops instead of soda, and he tries not to smile. 

“As soon as you tell me what dumbass you were trying to sleep with in OUR BED.” He snaps, giving you a tight lipped smile with his arms still crossed. 

“Ohhhh yeah…. About that….” You smile, pointing to the camera and watching his face relax instantly. “Say hi to your fans bubs-”

“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs, pulling you in to kiss you before standing up and walking to the door. “Grab your phone and purse. You’re still coming with me.”

—--------------------

COMMENTS:

“Girl, he’s MILITARY. Are you trying to get hit?”

– “STFU, that man does not hit woman unless they ask. Watch their other vids”

“The way his arms flex when he crosses them. I see now why she likes pissing him off.”

“They f***ed in the car. FOR SURE”

—--------------------

Before Jake got home from work you had hot glued the olive jar while taping it, then started cooking dinner while you waited. When you heard the sound of his keys in the door you started filming, leaving your phone on the table as you moved back to the stove. 

“Evenin’ Sugar.” He smiles, moving to you and kissing your shoulder as you move a cheek to him so he can kiss that as well. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Your in a good mood, that southern drawl comes out when you are.” You smile, watching him set his keys on the counter and reach across you to steal a green bean.

“Watched Rooster do 100 pushups.” He laughs before wrapping his arms around you. “What time do your parents get here?”

“About an hour- can you open that jar for me?” You ask sweetly pointing to the jar of olives you had glued. 

“What do I get out of it?” He teases, already snatching the jar. He tugs on it once, twice, then he gets frustrated and puts all his strength into it, face pinching up as he grunts out. “You’re kidding me..”

“Can’t get it?” You ask, moving closer as he tries again, grunting and turning red. “How about you go get changed and try again when you come back?”

He nods, setting it down with a face of disbelief and allowing you to kiss his cheek before running off to change. You snatch the jar and take it to the fridge, replacing it with the jar you hadn’t glued, setting it up. When you know he is within eyepoint you grab the fresh jar and pop it open with ease. 

“WOAH BABY!” He laughs, picking you up and spinning you around. “I married she hulk.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Now you’re just hurtin my feeling- HEY GOTCHA!” He spots the camera, keeping you lifted in one arm while he points at it. “You tried messing with me and I busted ya-”

“Okay okay- put me down.” You laugh, gripping his shoulder to not fall. “Bubs-”

“Nope!” He laughs, reaching for the sink hose and dousing you with it making you squeal. 

—--------------

COMMENTS:

“I think he is finally catching on”

“Making us all wet- oop”

—---------------

The next prank a whole two weeks, both of you getting busy with work and not having much time together besides sleeping, but you finally had a day off….which meant torturing your husband obviously.

You had woken up before him and gotten ready, doing your hair and makeup just the way he liked whilst picking an outfit you knew he loved before walking downstairs and putting a little heart over the date on the calendar just to fool him a little more. 

He trudged downstairs while you were on the phone with your parents, taking a second to lean on the counter and admire you while drinking the coffee you already prepared for him, wiggling his eyebrows when you turned to him while talking. 

What he didn’t know was that you were talking on a fake phone whilst yours was hidden on a shelf filming him. “Yes! I’m very excited for tonight, I think Jake is gonna try to surprise me.”

His eyebrows stop wiggling and pinch together in confusion as he pulls the cup away from his lips, mouthing a ‘what’ as you point to the calendar and then leave the room to keep ‘talking to your parents’.

Your husband looks at the calendar and sees the heart, head snapping to the side as he tries to think about what today was supposed to be. “Crap crap crap-”

The only problem came when your phone actually started ringing, drawing his attention to where it was hidden to film. “AHA!”

You laugh from the other room, knowing you were busted and the prank had failed, walking in to watch him flip the camera off and turn it off. “You haven’t been on your a game , lovely wife. I expect better.”

“Bring it on then.” You smile, enjoying the cocky smile that fills his face. 

—------------

So you upped your game, you bought a couple cameras to hide around and you thought of some great ideas. Jake Seresin was gonna regret marrying you. 

The first day he was gone on a mission you decided that instead of worrying about your husbands safety you would rather learn the WAP dance to piss him off when he gets back. The day after his return he is laying on the couch with his eyes closed (you made him tired after a long night in his defense) and you decide that you want to show him a tiktok dance.

“Okay I’m gonna set up the phone here,” You explain, leaning it against your tv before taking a couple steps back for dancing room. 

“Oh so I know where the camera is this time?” He teases, you snort and try not to look where the mini camera is hidden by his game console. 

“Just watch-” You laugh, playing the song. His eyes widen when it starts playing and then you start dancing and he is shooting up. By the time the song got to the actual WAP part he is dashing to snatch you up of the floor. 

“No ma’am.” He laughs, hanging you in the air like a dog that just got busted.

“WAIT! THERE IS MORE!” You laugh as he goes to turn the phone off. 

“Sorry Sugar but I really don’t need the squad seeing my gorgeous wife dancin’ like a stripper all over the internet. Save it for the bedroom.” He sets you down and smacks your ass harshly while laughing before he leaves the room thinking you hadn’t gotten any of that on film….sucker.

—---------------

COMMENTS:

“THE LAUGH AFTER HE SPANKED HER! STFU FNJENFJDBSB”

“LET HER FINISH THE DANCE! NOOOOO-”

—----------------

“JAKE SERESIN!” You shout, winking to the camera that was hidden in the kitchen and wait. The second you shouted with an angry tone you heard his phone drop and the sound of his feet hitting the stairs to rush to you. Once you were sure he could see you, you pretend to be angry. 

You have your arms crossed and a harsh glare as he comes into the kitchen looking like a little puppy. 

“Yes Sugar?”

“You got something you wanna tell me?” You ask, taking a step back when he takes a step for you. His eyes flash hurt and for a second you wanna tell him it’s a prank, but you double down and wait. 

“I….I uhm- well…..I forgot our anniversary?” He guesses, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “No! Wait! I missed your families monthly dinner- no w-”

“Final answer?”

“Wait, Y/n baby, just tell me what I did. No gimme a hint.” He rushes, falling to his knees. THE MAN ACTUALLY FELL TO HIS KNEES, and grabbed at your thighs. You break then, laughing and grabbing his jaw softly. 

“Just a prank babe.” You smile, kissing his temple and he whips back to glare. 

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m gonna make a tiktik and start pranking you!” He seethes and you crack up, but he shakes his head. “You’re laughing now, but you just started a war sugar.”

“Bring it on Bubs.”

“Oh I will.” He flips off your phone which makes you laugh harder already knowing that the phone wasn’t recording and he kisses your cheek before walking off. 

“See you soon…..”

—--------------

COMMENTS:

H_ngman: You have been warned!

Mrs.Bagman: Bring it on!!!

Authors Plea: Hey guys! I love likes and reblogs and I thank you all so so much. BUT I LIVE FOR COMMENTS! I really enjoy when you guys tell me what you like and dislike and what you want to see more of, so I beg for more comments. LOVE YOU ALL!

[trash-gobby]

Summary: You've had a long night, and it's about to get even longer. Showing up at your friends Halloween party, you think your in for a night of being the local wallflower. However, after catching the eye of a certain creature of the night, your about to find that there is much more that can happen in a few short hours then drinking, dancing and having a good.

There is so much blood to spill and so little time.

Word Count: 5.9K

Pairing(s): Dwayne X GN!Reader

Characters: Dwayne, Reader, David, Marko, Paul, Michael Emerson, Star, Laddie Thompson

RATING: PG

⚠️ Warnings!: Vampire!Michael, mild violence, sexual themes, some stalking elements, non-consensual blood drinking, drugs and drinking

Note: I still need to do some more editing on this, I just was so excited to post that I had to do it now lmao 🤣

______________________________________________________________

It felt like walking into another world aglow with strobing lights from a cheap disco ball, heart beating to the tune of Rockwell and air thick with the musky smell of sweaty skin. You narrowly avoided a collision with two party-goers, heavily intoxicated and too busy necking to actually notice that other human beings existed and also needed to use the front door, whilst making your way inside.

Their commitment was admirable, not only to their costumes -peanut butter and jelly- but to each other. How people managed to be so attached to each other it seemed like not even the force of gravity and common sense could keep them apart was a mystery not even you felt god could solve.

The house was heaving with people.The halls were crammed with costumed people talking loudly over the music, drinking, and laughing loudly at jokes that were most likely only funny because of the aforementioned alcohol. You tried your best to squeeze through the masses of those hanging in the hall, slightly regretting your choice of costume. The wings were getting in the way more than you’d thought. 

The costume of choice was a simple angel outfit made mostly out of spare materials you’d found lying around in your best friend's art studio. It was a simple white tank top, jeans, the wings themselves made out of wire, tinfoil and glittering fake plastic jewels. The halo was a headband with the halo attached to the top made also out of wire and tinfoil. It’s not like this dollar store outfit was that much different from anyone else’s

You’d already spotted a couple other party guests with equally low effort halloween costumes. One guy you saw in the living room passing the open double doors, was dressed in probably the laziest cookie monster outfit ever. A blue baseball cap with giant foam balls glued to them, the dark sharpie pupils pointing in different directions. The only reason the costume was even identifiable was that the guy was making stupid joke references to the kids show to one of the girls he was clearly trying to impress.

At least you could be comforted in the fact that you weren’t that sad. Although you were getting there.

The light at the end of the crowded hall beckoned you. Beyond would be the kitchen, and hopefully a beer which you could nurse for the rest of the night while hiding in a corner where no one would bother you.

The only reason you were here was as moral support for your best friend who had begged that you come out for once. “It’s Halloween,” they said. “Come out and socialize” for once, they said.

Yeah, some socializing you were gonna do. They weren’t even anywhere to be seen and the only other people to talk to were either too drunk to hold a sentence together, or their only interest was getting into each other's pants. No thank you.

Finally reaching the end of the hall, you squeezed your way past some party-goers who had decided that blocking the doorway was more important than having any kind of common decency.

“Watch yourself,” you had nearly knocked one of the guys drinks as you passed through the doorway. You didn’t even bother to stop or apologize, you didn’t want to talk to any of these people. It was rude, and you knew that, but you just weren’t in the mood for politeness.

Every surface of the kitchen was covered. Whether it was the gaudy red plastic solo cups, or the various chip bowls and pizza boxes, not a single surface was unoccupied. Thankfully it was much more empty in here for some reason, then in the rest of the house. Not by much though.

The light hurts your eyes with its oppressive white fluorescent glow, making you squint. The bare bulb flickers slightly as you make your way over to the island counter in the center of the kitchen. Gingerly you lifted one of the lids of the leaning tower of pizza boxes to see a couple slices of Hawaiian style pizza. Go figure that would be the only kind of pizza people hadn’t completely consumed.

Lucky for you, you weren’t that picky.

“Hey, you made it!” A familiar voice called out to you. Turning your head to the doorway you’d just passed through, you saw your friend standing there, having parted the sea of people blocking them much more easily then you had.

They were dressed in a much more elaborate costume then most of the people at the party you’d seen. A very TV show accurate Morticia Addams, complete with the nicely combed wig and curve-hugging black dress. She looked fantastic. You knew somewhere around had to be her boyfriend dressed as Gomez. They’d been planning the whole couple-costume thing for months. They’d changed their concept several times. First it was Bonnie and Clyde, then Mickey and Minnie, and finally settling on the current getup.

“Yeah, work let out a little earlier than expected and I thought I'd drop by and at least try to get a free meal,” Grinning, Y/F chuckled at your comment and made her way over to you, a beer clutched in her hand. “Well, I’m glad there is enough leftovers for you to make it a meal.”

You nod before taking a bite out of the slice you’ve procured. It tastes like cheap pizza always tastes. Greasy plasticy cheese, with the pineapple pieces being just a bit too sweet. The cut ham tastes more like something which is attempting to masquerade as meat rather than the real deal.

“Only the best quality pies here,” Y/F jokes as she sees the expression on your face.

“You don’t say,” you manage to reply between chewing, and swallowing the cardboard-masquerading-as-food before trying to place it down discreetly on one of the used paper plates.

“If you come outside we can get you a hotdog. We started grilling a new batch, and there’s apple bobbing. And ooh I almost forgot about the bonfire.” She was going to drag you outside, and as you looked over out the kitchen window, which showed the backyard, your stomach sank. There was no escaping the masses of people out back. However, now that Y/F had started mentioning all the things she’d set up, you knew you were going out back there whether you wanted to or not.

“Do I have a choice?” Your last ditch effort of asking was obviously in vain. She gave you a look which told you what you’d already known. At least there were hotdogs promised.

______________________________________________________________________________

Y/F’s backyard was massive. An open space of evenly cut grass which backed onto a forest which was even more massive. Her house was at the edge of town, isolated enough that the music and mayhem was not going to be overheard by neighbors.

The typically immaculate lawn was packed full of people. As you came out the back with your friend, you could hear now where the loud music was coming from. Someone had made sure to bring a massive stereo system outside onto the deck. A tall lanky kid you recognized from campus was DJing with a clunky looking remote.

Not far from the deck, in the center of the grassy lawn was a truly impressive bonfire burning in Y/F’s fire pit. You’d been over for a bonfire before with Y/F’s family to celebrate Guy Fawkes Night. Her father was English and made a point of making sure his kids participated in some traditions of his own youth.

Little did he know it would be used by a bunch of drunk uni students on Halloween to set the spooky chaotic atmosphere. Or in this case an atmosphere of drunken chaos where more people were attempting to mosh to the ghostbusters theme blasting from the speakers in low effort costumes, then scare each other. Unless your fear was getting thrown up on, or getting elbowed in the face.

“The grill isn’t far off from the bonfire. Come on,” before you could even respond or react, Y/F was already wading through the throng of people. You had no choice but to follow.

Avoiding most of the people messing around in the designated area for dancing -it couldn’t really be called a dance floor- people stepping out of the way as you went. Trying your best not to hit people with your wings was more of a challenge than expected. At least the way they glowed in the fire-light made you noticeable enough that those around you knew to let you through. No having to tap shoulders or push through. That was a small mercy. 

“Cool costume,” one of the women you passed said.

You turned to thank her, and while turning back to your journey across the lawn you were met with the firm surface of someone’s back. The sudden contact caused the halo on your head, which was already precariously placed to get flung onto the ground.

Just what you needed. Mumbling apologies, you bent down to pick up your fallen costume piece. Before you could gather up your belongings an arm leather-clad comes into view, hand wrapping around the headband.

Looking up your vision tracing up the arm to the man who it was attached to. Immediately, your face started to heat up as you locked eyes with the man in front of you.

He was handsome in a dark and mysterious type of way you were sure lots of girls who were into bad boys would begin salivating over. You weren’t that kind of person, you had to remind yourself.

His hair was long and dark, but not as dark as his eyes. It was like looking into two dark pools of midnight, intense with how they held your gaze. Not to mention the face that held those piercing eyes was beautiful, with his strong jaw and sharp contours.

This is who you’d run into? Well… shit.

His outfit felt the most out of place weirdly. More like street clothes than an actual costume. Leather jacket with a leopard clawing its way up the arm which wasn’t currently holding onto your halo headband.

Your eyes briefly lingered on the man’s bare sculpted chest underneath the jacket. He clearly made physical activity a regular part of his routine.

The way the firelight played across his face only enhanced the intensity of the eye contact between the two of you. The shadows played off the features of his face in a way that was both sexy and sinister and you couldn’t decide which were making you feel these strange feelings which were cropping up.

He then smiled, breaking your reverie, holding out the halo to you. 

“T-thanks,” you said, taking it back from him feeling self-conscious all of the sudden under his gaze. “I’m sorry for running straight into you.”

“No problem,” his voice was deep in a way that crawled up your spine and into your gut making your stomach flip. Damn…

Feeling awkward just standing there, you looked around to see where Y/F had gone. You were only met with strangers who had come up behind you, sizing you up in a way that made you feel less like a person and more like an item at a buffet table.

They were boys of varying stature, all dressed in similar punk streetwear to the man you’d just run into. Various shades of black with the exception of one man with a jacket covered in different coloured patches.

“Look what you found here, found a new friend for the night?” The man with the elaborate patch jacket said, giggling as he did and moving in way too close to you, causing you to take a step back.

He was a strange man, long hair which was dirty blonde, curly, in the mullet-esqu style which was popular among the more grungy youths. The shortest of the group, he sure made up for it with a presence that was large. It felt like witnessing the personification of bottled lightning.

“Marko, careful, you're scaring them. Calm down,” one of the other men stepped forward, placing his hand on the shoulder of the shorter man. “Sorry, he can be a lot.” Icy blue eyes held your gaze.

“Uh,” you didn’t know what to say. Friend for the night? What the heck was that supposed to mean? “It’s fine, I mean no problem.”

There was a pause in which it allowed you to take in the man who had addressed you. His bleach blonde hair, long heavy winter coat, not necessarily appropriate for the California weather, and the clear air he gave off of being the ringleader. His energy was infectious and his gaze able to pin you down and make you feel a twinge of fear mixed with an odd attraction.

“I’m David,”  he stuck out his glove clad hand at me, a subtle smirk playing across his lips. You accepted the offer, feeling the strength he was holding back in his grip.

“This is Marko, and yes he’s always like this,” David broke eye contact to look over at Marko who was chewing on the thumb of his own riding gloves, promptly causing him to pull it from his mouth. “And this is Michael.”

The man he signaled to was the only one who’d remained completely out of this little exchange for the most part until his name was mentioned. He was the most sedate, preferring to eye up the crowd around the other men then to pay attention to what was going on, now he had his eyes back on the group, giving you a small sympathetic smile. At least you're sure he knew how you probably felt during this strange exchange.

“Um, I’m Y/N. It was nice meeting all of you, but I really need to find my friend.” Your attempt to extract yourself from this strange group of men must have seemed pretty blatant. It wasn’t that they were doing anything outwardly bad, just that something about them made you feel like a deer caught in the sightline of a predator. You needed to move, get away.

Awkwardly walking backwards, you ended up bumping shoulders with the man who you’d ran into earlier. “Sorry, sorry.”

He chuckled in response, moving to let you pass. His eyes were the most transfixing to you of all the men, causing your gaze to linger on his for a moment before you turned around. Making your way back into the throng of people you felt oddly relieved to be leaving that group behind.

You didn’t want to look back over your shoulder as you went, until you were sure that you’d gained some distance. Finally taking a moment to look around, you realized you had ended up roughly in the area of the grill. There were several cheap folding tables packed with beer, chips and dip. A large punch bowl filled with a dubious substance you knew you weren’t going to touch.

Making your way along the table, you could see Y/F’s boyfriend at the grill wearing an apron over the Gomez Addams classic pin-striped suit.

“Hey Y/N!” your friend called from not far behind the grill, holding two jumbo hotdogs in each hand. “I lost track of you. Where did you go?”

“Just got lost in the crowd, you're a really fast walker you know,” you joked, as Y/F handed you one of the dogs.

“Well, I do have a lot of people to entertain and long legs,” she responded, before taking a bite out of her food. “I didn’t know what you wanted on yours so I just left it plain. You can get condiments over there.”

You looked over, taking in a chaotic mess of a foldout table. Some slightly crusty looking condiments, sad crumbly napkins and a red solo cup which held only a couple of plastic knives and forks.

Picking up the ketchup gingerly, you went about preparing your meal. Moving about the table, your thoughts wandered to mundane things. How you weren’t excited to be going back to work Monday for a double shift at the diner, how Y/F was gonna enlist you in the morning to clean and hassle the hungover part-goers out of the house. Inevitably you would have to spend the rest of your morning before work helping scub puke out of the living room carpet. Just great.

Satisfied that you’d applied the amount of toppings to your liking, it was time to find a seat or at least somewhere out of the way to stand. The thought crossed your mind to just go back inside and hide from the party in Y/F’s father's study, which was strictly off limits. No one would be allowed in on pain of death except for the family. You had been in there once or twice when you'd been over for dinner, and Y/F had gotten permission to borrow her father's telescope. You would both hang in the dark of the office with the giant eye of the device looking out into the night. Y/F’s father would be there of course, pointing out where you should look in the sky to see the different constellations. You'd never been there without him and Y/F before though. For all you knew, her father probably locked the door. It was worth checking out if you could find time to slip away after a little while.

For now you settled for spending the next hour and a half with Y/F, some of her friends from work and her boyfriend. The conversation was good, if not a little stilted by the fact that a couple of them were pretty drunk. It was easy enough to pretend you knew what some of them were talking about with the excuse of eating so you didn't have to answer any questions or comments. Letting the comfort of familiar voices wash over you, allowing some of your composure to return. It was nice to have a moment of peace among good company for a while. It was easy to forget about your problems, but the exhaustion of social interaction did start to nag at you as the hour went on.

A few times your eyes swept over the crowd of guests. It was likely that half of them were people who Y/F knew, and the other was people who had invited friends, who had invited their friends. Strangers who had just decided to tag along for the free beer and company. The party was reaching its peak, with the yard heaving with sweaty bodies of everyone dancing, eating and socializing.

The small comforts of being surrounded by a few recognizable faces started to fade as strangers began joining the fray of conversation. At some point Y/F was pulled away to deal with something, abandoning you to entertain people you had never met before, who were too intoxicated to hold any meaningful conversation with. Now was your chance to take a break. Get some space between you and the throng.

You abandoned your used napkins on one of the fold-out tables as you began to work your way back through the crowd again. This time without bumping into any more strangers, though it seemed strange that you didn’t, considering the closely packed crowd.

As you maneuvered your way towards the house, your eyes were drawn to the people you passed by, almost like you were searching for someone. All you seemed to see were strangers in a variety of costumes mingling, none meeting your eye for longer than it took to politely acknowledge your presence or look away. Only when you reached the house and looked back before entering, did you realize it was the man from earlier you had been trying to pick out of the crowd. However, if he was somewhere out there among the others you didn’t notice. It wasn’t really worth lingering on if you wanted to go find somewhere to take a break.

If the backyard was crowded, then Y/F’s house was absolutely bursting at the seams with activity. The kitchen counters were overflowing with cups, food, and paper cutlery. As you made your way into the front hallway, avoiding the living room, you heard the sound of something fragile smash. This was followed by raucous hooting and laughter. Whatever it was that broke, you hoped it wasn't something Y/F’s parents were going to skewer her for.

The lighting in the hall was dim and murky with a smoky haze that made you cough. Someone, or a couple someone's, had decided that hotboxing the front hall was a great idea. Passing by you met the bloodshot eyes of a clearly stoned Han Solo, with his arm slung around an equally stoned Wonder Woman. Her cheap black party wig askew on her head. There were a couple others leaning around them, partially blocking the stairs. As you passed they moved, lethargic in their countenance. Nearly tripping over one of the stoners legs, you ascended into the upper floor.

It was much less crowded and noisy. Most of the people there were either waiting to use the bathroom, or having their own little huddled quiet conversations. As you passed the guest bedroom you heard the sound of giggling and low moan. Now you'd never be able to look at that room or those sheets again the same way. Gross. Another thing you would have to help wash in the morning.

You could see the door at the end of the upper hall, no one between you and your goal in sight. As you made your way, you noted that no one lingered close by, the door having a piece of paper taped to it saying that it was off limits for guests “on pain of death.” The sharpie all caps must have really hammered the point home, because as you opened the door the sweet sound of silence met you. The loudest thing which met your ears was the muffled base of music.

You shuffled around the room, trying desperately not to knock anything off one of the side tables by the door as you searched the wall for the lightswitch. It was blocked slightly by a picture frame which had tilted, causing you to try steadying it as you flicked on the light.

It was a small lamp which came on overhead, casting a tranquil orange glow across the office space. Your feet shuffled across the throw rug, as you admired the tall book shelves. Stacks of books on all manner of nonfiction topics, most of them academic in nature. There were a couple yellowed spy thriller paperbacks near the bottom of the shelf closest to the large window on the opposite side of the room. The shades were still drawn, the telescope standing before it, waiting for someone to look out into the night sky.

You felt the temptation, the draw towards it, but you knew it was probably a bad idea to open the curtains with the lights on. Y/F might come check, and you’d get a stern talking to for going in the office and trying to escape the party. Instead you opted to pull out the creaky rolling desk chair and sit down while fiddling with the flimsy elastic holding the wings to your back. They had really been chafing and you could see where they had started leaving a red irritated line against your shoulders.

Slipping the elastics off, one snapped, causing you to let out a frustrated sigh. Well, it was only a matter of time before these cheap things broke. At this point removing the halo felt necessary. Maybe you could fix the wings if you bothered looking in the desk for tape or stapler, but you really didn’t think you should touch anything. If you broke something you most likely wouldn’t be let back into the office ever again.

Laying the wings and halo down on the desk it was impressive how clean Y/F’s father kept his workspace. The desk held a glass paperweight that looked quite hefty and a wooden desk organizer filled with a couple folders. Nothing worth snooping through, not that you really felt like trying to bother looking through anything.

Stretching, you felt your neck crack, releasing some tension. It was good to have some time to yourself for a couple minutes. All you’d been doing all day was interacting with people. From customers, friends, and strangers, it had been a lot to process. 

Your mind wandered back to that man you’d bumped into. His piercing gaze had made you feel both like a prey animal caught in the crosshairs of a hunter, and yet, at the same time there had been a thrill to it. Not often did you feel like anyone looked at you with a semblance of interest outside of a passing glance or a friendly smile. For once, having someone size you up was even a little flattering in a strange way. Though there was something strange about the others he had been with.

The way they had all surrounded you was a little disconcerting, and how one of them –Marko you thought– had joked about you being a friend for the night. It was almost like you weren’t even really a person, but a piece of meat. The thought of that curdled whatever sense of elation you got out of your little connection with the stranger you had bumped into. Guys like that were bound to be more trouble than they were worth, and the last thing you needed in your busy life was trouble.

As this thought crossed through your mind, it was like the Gods had heard your little inner monologue, and responded with the lights in the room going out, plunging the office into almost complete darkness. You sat up quickly, causing your head to spin, blood rushing through your ears.

There hadn’t been a sound of the light switch going off or of anyone entering the room.

Stumbling to your feet, you smashed your hip into the side of the desk, grunting, as you reached out and used the wall as a guide to try and find the light switch again. However, when you finally did, flicking it seemed to do nothing. Had the power gone out?

The only light in the room came from a crack within the heavy curtains. Their form letting in the smallest amount of glow from the fire pit outside. At first you could hear some commotion as people seemed to have realized that something was wrong, and there seemed to be some disgruntled booing.

You carefully made your way to the window, pulling the curtains open slightly to see what was happening. The yard was lit by the pit, the grill going strong and some music still coming from a portable radio. However, most of the guests seemed to be looking around wondering in their own little huddles, what was going on.

“Someone get the music working” a voice yelled from somewhere below you. Likely from one of the windows in the kitchen. Vaguely you could make out the heavily shadowed figure of Y/F striding across the yard, with another friend in town, politely mumbling apologies to guests as she passed.

Your eyes followed her progress as she got closer to the house. Before she entered was when the screaming started.

At first I thought it was someone messing around in the darkened first floor. However, that was short lived as people began to pour out of the back door, the first of the stampede knocking Y/F out of the way aggressively.

This only served to further plunge into chaos the already confused crowd of people outside. Most stood in place watching as others ran past, others started running away as well. Most likely in their drunk or high minds they thought it was a fight, the police or they just saw people running and didn't want to get caught just standing around if anything was really wrong.

As the first scream cut out though, more began to join it, along with yells of fear cut off as if severed violently. Among the shouts was also the sound of furniture being thrown, glass breaking. All of it from below you, as a few more people exited. One was a woman who appeared, from the distance to be soaked in something dark. She staggered a couple steps in a daze, before falling forward onto the grass.

The few people near her didn't even bother to check if she was okay, instead opting to turn and run as fast as they could in the opposite direction. The whole unfolding madness made your stomach drop, something cold worming its way into your gut.

The animal instinct the fear you were feeling was what kept you there, in the half light of a slightly pulled back curtain. What got you to move was when you heard the crashing off a window breaking. The thing thrown through it was a strange, almost unidentifiable mass of limbs. Two bodies entwined that fell heavily to the ground.

A man, familiar to you in the firelight. His face smeared with a dark redness, mouth pulled back into a snarl, like some kind of wild animal. Blonde hair wild, face distorted beyond anything human. Below him, the contorted and broken figure of… Y/F’s boyfriend.

His suit shredded along the chest, something looking like deep gashes, –clawmarks perhaps?-- along his skin. What got you to really step back, besides the shock, was the look on his face. A pure mix of confusion and horror, neck ripped to shreds so that it seemed his head was almost severed.

The curtains swished back into place, as you stepped away. The image already burned onto the inside of your eyelids. A permanent mental tattoo which no amount of mental coverup would hide.

Some small part of you hoped that what you'd just seen and the commotion you could still hear was all just a prank. A prank that had gone wrong, but one that was harmless.

Backing up more into the darkness, you felt almost suspended in a void between action and processing what you had just seen. More noise from below your feet, almost violent as more voices rise up. They are incomprehensible, but completely clear in how much terror was behind them. It felt like you were standing in place suspended in the darkness for hours, which in actuality was likely minutes. The hair on your arms raised, body still with only subtle tremors and jumps at any sound from below.

Slowly, painfully so, the noise began to die down, yelling faded. The sounds of breaking glass and ransacking quieted until it felt like you were standing in the deep dark belly of something dead. The only perceptible thing being the hammering of your racing heart-beat in your ears.

You hadn't noticed when the trembling had started in your legs until now. It had become full shakes, causing you to crumple onto the office carpet. Lacing your fingers behind your neck pressing your forehead to the soft fabric and taking in deep breaths. 

You weren't going to panic, you had to keep it together. Whatever was going on couldn't be that bad. Or, at least if it was bad, it was over now.

The panic was sudden though, as if it was in reaction to something outside your perception. An animal fear which your subconscious had picked up on, but had yet to communicate to you in any tangible, logical way.

Until you heard it.

The smallest of shuffling, like fabric rubbing together softly. You almost wanted to dismiss it as something your mind had conjured up in the following silence, after so much chaos. The floor made a soft creaking sound, which made you perk up so you were looking into the almost pitch black gloom of a barely lit space in the office.

You could make out nothing but blackness in a space between two bookshelves where the sound had come from. For a moment all you could do was look and hope, maybe you were wrong about something being there.

There was movement in the black. As if resolving itself out of nothingness, a tall figure moved towards you. No clear features could be made out, but it didn't matter. The shiver that worked its way up your body was enough to awaken your flight response.

Up from your knees you quickly backed up away from the advancing form until you smashed into the back of a side-table. The lamp placed upon it came crashing to the ground. Back to the wall, hand scrabbling for the handle to the door you must have looked down for a second on instinct. 

In that split second the figure was upon you. Up close you could smell musk and the faint acrid smell of smoke burning your nostrils. The force with which the arms of this person grabbed you were so aggressive you knew it was likely going to leave a bruise.

You let out a cry as you felt the nails of this stranger dig into your skin, drawing blood, body slammed onto the wall knocking the breath out of your lungs. They had crowded your personal space, leaning their body flush to yours, head burying into your exposed neck.

You pushed against this attacker, feeling the overwhelming heat of them against you, as if they were suffering from a high fever. Their hair brushed against your cheek, something scraping your neck. Stubble possibly?

For some reason in your messed up terrified brain found that it wanted to focus more on how much the scratching tickled then any other sensation.

“Get off me!” Your voice was lower in volume and cracked at the end with the bubbling terror in your gut. The scratching lead way to lips brushing your tender flesh, finding that sensitive spot, making you flinch away.

In response one of those talon-like hands moved, with inhuman swiftness from your arm to grasp your head. Tangled in your hair, you were forced still as your neck was wrenched to the side painfully to create easier access.

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried using your now free arm to push and scratch at the person holding you. But it was like trying to push against a stone statue, as if gravity had multiplied the weight of not just your attacker, but made your weight meaningless.

“Please,” was the last word you were able to work out of your lips in a strangled whisper before the scratching sensation began to overwhelm you again. Slowly it bloomed from an irritating tickle, to an itch, to finally a slow rising burn. As if a mosquito bite had evolved first to a bee sting and then a knife being driven down your throat.

The pain was radiant, stunning in its ability to dwarf any other feelings, almost euphoric. It was as if all your body had ever known or had been was this singular moment of sharp suffering. The feeling of something hot, and sticky touched your lips, working it's way into your mouth and on your tongue.

The taste, reminded you of the smell of oak burning and steel. The substance worked its way down your spasming throat. Your last thought before consciousness left you was how you wished you could scream.

To be concluded in part two…

[evilwickedme]

This wasn't asked for because nobody in their right mind would ask for this but this is a fic rec list of fics I cannot stop rereading

Just started yet another reread of Inimitable Verse by deniigiq and I fully plan on rereading their into the multiverse series which occasionally crosses over also - this is a Spider-Man/team red focused series, think comics canon infused early mcu-spidey since only homecoming had come out for a non substantial amount of time they were working on the series and the daredevil stuff is explicitly tv show AND comics. Also the multiverse series is how I got into Murderdock and therefore how I got into Spider Gwen

Unpretty's Sorrowful And Immaculate Hearts series which is just a loosely interconnected series of DC fics. My personal favorites are Empty Graves, in which Martha Kent keeps killing time travelers trying to kill baby! Clark; any of their clois fics but especially Third Wheel; and Anti-Social, which is a social media fic mostly about Tim and Bruce that made me cry laughing. Catch Bruce trying to get Walmart's employees to unionize. Also shout out to unpretty's only fic with Jason in it, it looks awesome but is tragically incomplete

This particular Reverse Robin AU which put in the work to reverse every single younger generation and is chef's kiss I LOVE this version of Tim he's wild

Both of Shoalsea's fics are in constant rotation for me I talk about Into The Brighter Night all the time in the tags of reblogs and stuff it truly lives in my head rent free. Anyway Tim gets kidnapped by aliens and the batfam have to watch as yj98 saves him and it's angsty and funny and such a good take on what could have been if the new 52 hadn't happened. And Compassion Builds No House is about Tim and Pru from Red Robin. Ugh they're both so good

Speaking of Clois (I did you've just forgotten this by now) brilliant (like a confession) by kathkin (penny-anna on the hellsite) is so fucking good I'm. Okay. Anyway it'll be listed as inspiration if/when I finally post my two person love triangle fic for them

I'm too anxious to catch up on this before it's done but jumble sale chic is hands down the best spideydevil fic series despite and because of the omegaverse

Make A Little Birdhouse In Your Soul is my favorite take on Jason, period, and has a lot of fantastic Damian stuff going on too. It's updating every few weeks still! Sometimes more often! I love you bacondoughnut it's me JustGail the person who will not stop commenting on your fic you're stuck with me forever

I lied above Rumspringa Murderdock is what got me into Murderdock but that series is second place. I found this one while scrolling through the tv show's mattfoggy tag, thinking I was safe

Speaking of Murderdock mattfoggy, The Lawyer All the Wickedness was written early on in spider-gwen's history and so diverges from canon really early in ways that I think are super interesting and creative

Oh also straight on 'til morning by merils (Tumblr url mamawasatesttube) does SUCH a great job unpacking Kon's trauma and building up healthy relationships around him including a budding timkon romance and yeah it makes me sad and happy at the same time

We're getting into poisonivory territory so just trust if you like the pairing and poisonivory is writing it you'll like it. Ok rapidfire

Like A Handprint On My Heart mattfoggy soulmate au with a twist

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Damijon future fic/au. Jon came back from the future when both of them were 19. Demisexual!Damian at its best. Damian's terrified of being abandoned by Jon again and it made my heart hurt

I feel like I've already recommended every JayRoy fic by poisonivory and genuinely I do reread them all, sometimes in order of publication if I'm in a particular mood. Maybe the one I've read most though is I've Got the Feeling You're the Right Thing After All which is about Roy and Jason starting a fwb thing while Roy still harbors old feelings for Dick. Can't see anything going wrong here lmao

Mmm this post is long enough so I'll leave it at just superhero fic for now but I do in fact have the ability to do a whole post just for the Witcher or Leverage so I might do that. Anyway thanks for following me on yet another burst of insanity it will happen again

[seineko]

it's fluff and angst but, minors still do not interact!

i still can't get over that official genshin art i posted a few hours ago so here's my brain rot lmao. it isn't really anything particular or meaningful, i guess, but i wanted to write something for the art. my brain was practically itching so i'm probably going to make it up as i go :) also my writing style is probably going to be weird in this.

warning(s): character death mentioned briefly, very light angst.

it's not that diluc likes to make you worried. but he had his reasons as to why his heart fluttered when you dashed towards his cupboard to bring out the first aid kit after manhandling him into sitting down on his bed, scolding him a bit as you pulled out the antiseptic and cotton.

he doesn't remember his mother well. actually, he doesn't remember his mother at all. the closest person to a mother for him was adelinde.

who also happens to be the first person he remembers being worried for him. he was chasing after a few crystalflies in the winery yard and, just when he was about to catch one, he tripped over his own feet and fell into the ground.

adelinde rushed to him mere seconds after that, worry written in the most clear handwriting across her face as she picked him up and rushed inside the winery to treat the scrape across his knee and a few smaller wounds on his hands.

he doesn't remember much after that other than being bribed by a glass of grape juice to stop crying and waiting for his father to finish his work to get back home.

his father and kaeya were the other two who he remembered being worried for him. at least when they were kids for the latter.

one instance that stood out particularly for him was when kaeya had lost the coin crepus had given to him. their father told kaeya to keep it safe and that it was a gift from someone special. diluc does not know to what extent it was true but thinking about it as an adult made him realize that crepus was probably trying to ease kaeya's insecurities and fear.

they visited jean that day and kaeya refused to play anything with them and did not part with the coin even for a second until they finally lured him in to collecting flowers to make flower crowns for adelinde.

kaeya had only realized that he lost the coin after they reached home. diluc saw his little brother visually become smaller and more frigid the moment he realized that. he left dinner midway and dragged himself to their room pulling up the curtains around his bed.

diluc remembered trying all the tricks he knew to get him out but none of them worked. he even offered to let kaeya braid his hair! the only thing remaining was going and finding the coin.

so he sneaked out after making sure that adelinde had slept and did exactly that.

their father had never looked older than at the moment when he returned home with kaeya's coin in his right pocket. his brother's face was completely swollen and blotched, tears still leaking out of his eyes.

he practically felt the worry radiating off of his father's body as soon as he was pulled into a bone crushing hug. kaeya sneaked his hand into one of his own sometime during it and did not leave it until the next morning.

adelinde had banned him from leaving his room days after that. his adopted brother stayed with him the entire time. (well, at least kaeya still seems to have that coin, it wasn't all for naught).

after the death of his father, it felt as though there was no one really left to worry about him anymore. adelinde was still there for him, he knew that, but that still didn't help dissipate the feeling.

it was especially rough during his visit - for the lack of a better term - to snezhnaya. the fresh grief made everything feel more painful than it actually was. an amalgamation of varying emotions; everything from anger, frustration, sadness, emptiness, guilt, the need for revenge, a sense of loss and many more that he couldn't even name muddled his head and stuck with him until years to come.

so yes. diluc doesn't really like making you worry, but he also can't help falling in love just a bit more everytime you treat his would with such worry and pain reflecting in your eyes as though it was you that had gotten hurt. it almost numbs his own pain and all he can thinking about is caging you in his arms and never letting you go.

the tenderness with which you kiss all his scars everytime he gets a new one has his heart pounding into his chest with such speed that he was sure it wasn't actually good for his health, especially when you put extra time and care into caressing that big gash across his back.

he can't help melting into spot when you cuddle his head into your neck and caress his scalp with your fingers, after taking care of all of his wounds, old and new.

he can't be more grateful than at the moment when you hum a soft tune into his ear to help him sleep better, hand still entangled with his hair and body wrapped around him, hiding him away from the entire world.

you are his home.

©2023 by seineko @ tumblr

[billdenbrough]

also for all my starmora posting and texting if u have had to suffer that, the thing that struck me most when leaving gotg 3 was. nebula/mantis. like. obviously starmora was always gonna murder me and it DID and also rocket being the heart of the story was gonna fuck me up and it DID but the thing that absolutely blindsided me with how much it meant to me was nebulantis, especially because of that One Scene on the flying pyramid

but every scene built up to it!! like. starlord’s “she calls me star lord when she’s mad at me” met by mantis’ grumpy little “she’s always mad at everyone”, the way mantis complains to drax about how she can’t know things if nobody tells her after nebula (and gamora, but nebula is the one that makes her mad) yells at her about the spacesuits, the “why do you criticise everything? it’s a different sound” “uh, no it isn’t. [imitates mantis] eurgh, dying, eurgh, dumbass. it’s the same sound!”

and all of that leads to that moment on the ship, when nebula shoves drax and mantis yells at her that she doesn’t have the right to push him, and nebula fires back at her about always supporting weakness. and then mantis says the thing that has haunted me since watching lmao: “fine! i don’t care! i know you have to find fault in everyone else to feel better about yourself – so find fault in me! but you don’t have the right to push him!”

and the way nebula just. stares at her. mantis saying he loves us and makes us laugh, how is that weakness? mantis saying he has sadness but he is the only of you who doesn’t hate himself. so i don’t care if he is stupid. LIKE. it just slams right into me i think bc her entire life, nebula’s value has been determined by her success. she never won against gamora, so she was tortured, pulled apart piece by piece, thanos always saying it was to help her get ‘better’. nebula who fulfils EVERY ROLE in the team—not so much emotional active support but caretaker, pilot, living weapon, ultimate defender, local robot—because that’s what she has to do to be worth keeping around. nebula, whose self-worth issues were built into her from childhood.

and here is mantis saying who cares that someone isn’t the best if they love you, if they make you laugh. who cares about strength when someone matters to you? what is strength to love? what is it?

and then, when rocket’s voice comes through the intercom and nebula stops still, swallows, says “rocket?” in that voice biting back all the emotions she doesn’t usually let herself express, and the camera pans to mantis looking at her. to mantis seeing nebula on the other side of grief, what it looks like for her to finally exhale this held breath she’s had, bc rocket was the only person she had for five years (“i’m family,” gamora says; “so is he,” nebula replies levelly), and he’s going to be okay. it’s this amazing one-two moment of two people who have been ostensibly teammates but really at odds the entire movie look at each other and really see each other, really understand what the other stands for, who they are. god!!!!

and then when drax and nebula form a little shield in front of mantis at the end when they’re all in the pit and mantis steps past them both, despite nebula’s protests. at the very end, when nebula decides to lead the city; this girl who is a weapon, laying down her arms to try give these little girls the childhood she never had. at the very end, when mantis strikes her own path—the girl who always ‘finds weakness in others and supports it’, leading her three companion beasts into the unknown universe, just to find herself.

and that last moment, when mantis says to all of them, “i love you all,” with that half beat before all, and she nods at nebula. it’s just. holy fuck. there were some real masterclasses in relationship dynamics and development in this film, but nebula & mantis were largely an undercurrent beneath the surface, but no less impactful, no less poignant for it. god. god

[inmyhorrorsera]

S5E8 "The Roast" thoughts:

Ok, I watched this episode three times and I'm still smiling. I love when you think and episode is gonna be about something because of its title and then surprise you when its all a misdirection (see also: Succession's "Connor's Wedding").

At first Laszlo's err… state intrigued me, love everyone projecting and imposing their own insecurities (Guillermo's secret, Nadja's hex) as a reason on why he is behaving like that. And of course it's a stupid reason 😭.

"And a flat pepsi for Guillermo". Oh Nandor, that's the worst thing you ever done to Guillermo, that's the worst thing you could do to anyone. And yes, I remember a certain S4 episode.

I screeched like a bird when Colin mentioned dreaming about being a baby under Laszlo's care, not only because I wanted this shit to happen since the past finale, but also I really thought the episode was going on that direction (and also bc its another W for my predictions).

Having said that, LOVED the nonchalance of Nadja and the others when they were like 'no, it wasn't a dream, that totally happened'.

I mentioned it in a separate post: they really had a Sweet Dee in IASIP moment when The Guide gave the roast idea, only to be ignored and then the same idea being stolen by a dude who is celebrated.

Seanie's poor brain it should be soup at this point, we don't know if he can hazily remember the event like it happened before.

What can I remember is his line after Nadja's roast because it was one of the biggest laughs for me: "Women CAN be funny!" I fucking loved it so much, it's the perfect condescending shit straight men say all the time, even when they're trying to be complementary to you they can't stop being garbage. It was a simple line but Anthony nailed the delivery and timing. Seriously, rewatch that part.

At first I was confused why all the jokes were so mid, but shortly I realized this episode wasn't about the roast at all, lol.

Just by watching screenshots of other users I noticed that in the scene of Nandor resting his head on Guillermo's shoulder there's a BIG flame between them. LMAO. There's no way that is unintentional.

Good for The Guide being the catalyst of Baron Afanas learning the truth. I was demanding more screen time for her lately, so having some incidence in the main plot goes on the plus column.

The other guests present at the roast being shocked at the knowledge of Guillermo killing vampires surprised me; I always assumed Guillermo being a familiar/slayer was a known fact in the vampire community after his very public massacre at the Théâtre des Vampires.

Fuck yeah when I realized this is a Doug Jones spotlight episode, I just fuckin ahgdjkaksdf, love him, perfect, no notes.

The Baron being terrifying!! Guillermo was seriously scared for the others and he barely tried to show off his Van Helsing abilities.

Nandor and Nadja begging the Baron to not hurt Guillermo!! 😭 Them being dragged while grabbing the cape!! 😭 They're spiritual siblings to me!! 😭😭

They really reminded me a little bro and sis begging their mom to not hit their beloved older brother with the chancla for talking back or something.

I fell for the two fake-outs with the sack lol I'm so gullible when it comes to vampires I guess.

NANDOR PAINFUL SOUNDS (MOANS???) WHEN HE BELIEVED HE WAS IN FRONT OF GUILLERMO'S INERT BODY. IT WAS SAD BUT ALSO A LITTLE HORNY!!!

"At least he died doing what he loved: beating off in the toolshed."

A wonderful small detail: After Laszlo opened fake Guillermo with the knife he cleaned his hands on The Guide's dress.

Idc if you think its dark, the whole 'Nandor will kill you and then kill himself' bit becoming a recurring joke it's peak writing.

I wish I can say something more serious about Baron Afanas' sadness over how boring his life is now. But I just keep thinking that the way he talks about his homelife with The Sire and the Hellhound sounds exactly when a dude has a middle life crisis and suddenly he doesn't enjoy his marriage anymore. They're husbands!! And I loved how cunty he looked at the end all half-charred (see posted gif) Queen!

Now, the Nandermo of it all: What more can I say than incoherent screaming and foaming from the mouth? Episodes 8 are all about them again!! Nandor on the window looking all cliched melancholic heroine of a romance novel?? How relieved he was when he found him in the coffin??? Him still remembering Guillermo's card word for word???!! Knowing that this toxic dark sided devotion goes both ways???!!! Borrowing the words of Fleabag: THIS IS A LOVE STORY.

Seriously, I know all these soft Nandor moments are here so the heartbreak when he learns about Guillermo being turned it's even bigger. But still denying that there is a romantic undertone between these two it's just being purposely adamant at this point (i'm looking at you wwdits reddit). Even if nothing explicitly romantic happens on screen, just by watching these moments, I know, we know.

Now, go listen to the ending song again. You will not regret it.

[casdeans-pie]

Part 4 of Flustered Castiel Accidentally Explodes Lightbulbs And Causes Power Outages Especially When Dean's Fingers Are In His Hair

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3.

Happy birthday to me! This is my birthday gift to myself so it's deliciously self indulgent for the final part. I honestly could have just kept going with this forever, I adore flustered!Cas and his angel powers lmao

This part got so big I couldn't put the whole chapter in the tumblr post sorry!

Taglist: @dreampencil , @mymisfitsbabe , @fivefeetfangirl , @kerryweaverlesbian , @give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back , @mooshroomister , @castielsbloodynose , @the-great-pumpkin-67 , @casavanse , @homoangel - thanks all for your interest, hope you like the conclusion!!

-----Read on AO3-----

---------

If stubbornness was a sin, Dean knew he would be going straight to hell when he died. Again.

There were a million reasons that Dean could think of for why Cas had distanced himself (that buzzed around his brain like insistent bees whenever he lay down to sleep at night) but if they didn’t talk about them then none of them were real. The ache in his chest at Cas’s absence, familiar from when he used to leave them for stretches at a time, felt like it dug in deeper and deeper with every passing day – but he still just couldn’t bring himself to talk to him about it.

The biggest surprise became the slow realisation that the saying ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ wasn’t just some made up cliché bullshit that people said to each other, because seeing Cas, even briefly before he scurried away, made Dean’s heart sing like a lovesick teenage girl.

Sam only suffered through so much before he started using his Sad-Sam-Eyes whenever he saw them both, hoping they would finally sort out whatever was going on between them, but he didn’t mention it otherwise. Somehow that made it even worse. If Sam told them to talk to each other, at least that could have been a good excuse. But no.

Dean had to do something on his own.

He had to.

He’d started all of this by being a jerk about Cas’s powers, so it was time to dip into that Dean Winchester Courage, have a real conversation about all of this, and face losing his best friend – the Angel that he loved – head on.

------

Then they finally had a hunt together. Alone.

Dean’s bloody machete hung in a loose grip by his side as he kicked the toe of his boot at the decapitated body on the ground beside him. The head lay nearby.

“Think we finally got ‘em all,” Dean said with a grin. His clothes were covered in splashes of blood, and he could feel some drying on his cheek that he was itching to scratch off with his nail. “I love a good vamp nest clear-out, but if I’d have known there were gonna be this many, I would’ve brought Sam as extra back-up.” Dean didn’t want to mention that the reason he’d told Sam to stay behind in the first place was because he’d finally stopped being chickenshit scared about sorting this thing out with Cas. “Not that we didn’t handle it.” He gestured towards the headless bodies scattered around them with his machete.

Cas didn’t reply. He’d been quiet in the ride over and had kept his distance for the whole fight.

Okay. Time’s up. Time to do this. Dean took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. “Cas, listen-”

“Dean!” Cas yelled, slamming into him just as the sound of a gunshot exploded nearby.

Dean went hurtling down as another gunshot rang out. He landed heavily – the floor winded him and disorientated him enough that he couldn’t get straight back up, and he shook his head rapidly to try to clear it.

There were sounds of Cas wrestling with the vampire nearby. Dean watched dazedly as the vampire snarled and bared his fangs as he threw a punch at Cas’s nose, and his fist connected with a thud. But that gave Cas the opportunity to wrench the gun out of the vampire’s weakened grasp, and he tossed it aside, making it skitter harmlessly across the floor into a dark corner of the warehouse.

Red bloomed through the top of Cas’s trench coat on his left shoulder.

“Cas!” Dean warned, finally scrambling to his feet just as the vampire grabbed Cas and threw him down with a hiss onto the dusty, blood-spattered floor.

The vampire loomed over him with an open mouth full of needle-sharp teeth just as Cas sat up with a grunt and threw up his hand with his palm out. Dean recognised the gesture, and he immediately braced himself for the blinding light of Cas’s angelic smitey powers, but only a faint sputtering glow emerged from his hand.

After a moment, where Cas stared at his hand in confusion, the vampire hissed and lunged.

He never got any further.

Dean’s machete swung in a clean shining arc through the vampire’s neck, and he collapsed in a heap like a puppet with cut strings. The spray of blood caught Cas, smattering his face and hair with even more crimson alongside what currently trickled out of his nose and soaked his shoulder.

Dean groaned in relief and threw the machete to the concrete floor with a clang. “Definitely the last one,” he declared with a deep breath. “Damn that got close for a second there. Come on, up you get.” Dean offered out a hand to help Cas, but he pushed himself up with a groan instead, pointedly not looking at the hand as if he hadn’t noticed it.

Dean tried to shrug it off again, just like he had all the other times that Cas refused to touch him recently, but he could feel the hurt burning in his throat and behind his eyes. He clenched his fist so tightly it almost hurt as he returned it to his side.

“You okay?” Dean asked instead with a frown, thinking of the gunshots, and noticing the blood stain on Cas’s shoulder increasing in size.

“Yes. The first bullet got me, but the second bullet missed. I think it went clean through. Didn’t hit anything vital.” Cas touched his shoulder and winced, then observed Dean – his blue eyes raking him up and down from head to foot. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

Dean shook his head, the mixture of hurt and concern and happiness at the closest attention he’d got from Cas in weeks making his words come out harsher than he intended when he snapped, “Nope. My bullet-proof friend pushed me out of the way, and then revealed that he’s not so bullet-proof today.”

Cas smiled ruefully. “Ah. Yes. Looks that way.” He dusted his trench coat off as best he could and lifted an arm to wipe his sleeve across his nose – though he only succeeded in smearing the dust and blood around. He closed his eyes and rubbed again.

Dean pushed down his confusing cocktail of emotions, like he always did, and forced on a smile. “You’re just making it worse, buddy. Why’s killing vamps always such a bloody job?” He reached over without thinking, while Cas was still rubbing at his nose. “Nose doesn’t look broken at least, but your shoulder’s probably gonna need stitches while you’re low on power like this.”

Dean’s fingers had barely even grazed the fabric on Cas’s shoulder before Cas flinched back violently.

The lights in the warehouse groaned and buzzed as they flickered and dimmed, and then just as quickly returned to normal.

Cas’s eyes were wide as he took another step back.

Dean felt all his confusion sharpen into a frustrated stab of white-hot anger. He gestured violently at the ceiling. “Okay. Y’know what. That’s it. Let’s talk. What the hell is going on with you, Cas? Why have you been avoiding me? What’s the deal with the lights?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Nothing you need to know about.”

“Nothing I- are you even hearing yourself right now? You’re really gonna admit to keeping secrets again after everything we’ve been through? And- hey, what’s up with your face? What are you doing?”

Cas had screwed his eyes together so tight that it pinched his whole expression. “Concentrating.”

“On what? This conversation that you’re trying not to be in?”

“On using my Grace to heal my shoulder and clean all of this off, but it’s not…” Cas gritted his teeth and opened his eyes. They glowed faintly. “It’s not working.”

Dean took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Shit, Cas. You know you’re low on power right now, you really want to use up what little juice you got left before you get chance to recharge? The motel’s only twenty minutes away.” He scowled. “You can even sit in the back. Far away from me, like you want.”

Dean didn’t wait for a response, he turned, reached down for his abandoned machete, and stalked back to Baby.

By the time Cas finally got into the car – in the back – Dean had already texted Sam to tell him that the nest had been cleared out and they would be spending the night at the motel.

They’d be back at the bunker tomorrow, and then Cas could keep avoiding him like before. Or maybe he’d finally just admit that he wanted to leave… and he’d go. The thought made Dean clench the steering wheel with a grip that made his knuckles white.

He couldn’t imagine his life without Cas in it.

The ride to the motel was tense and silent except for Baby’s engine that Dean pushed harder than he should. (The twenty-minute ride only took them ten. Cas didn’t comment on it.)

As soon as they were through the door Dean toed off his shoes, flicked on all the lights, and went to wash his hands in the bathroom. He didn’t look back to see what Cas was doing. It was none of his business. If he didn’t want to talk about it, then what did he care. (He tried to tell himself, even as the ache in his chest pounded and felt cavernous.)

Dean splashed some water on his face and gripped the sides of the grubby sink. Water plinked pink from his chin into the chipped basin, as the vampire blood washed away down the plughole.

After a deep breath Dean grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his face, careful not to inhale at the same time – he’d learned a long time ago that it was best not to know what motel towels smelt like – and reached for the first aid kit he always left in the bathroom when they went on hunts.

Sufficiently calmed down, and feeling less like his heart was caught in the vice grip of a homicidal ghost, Dean turned and emerged back into the main room. He froze mid-step at what he saw: Cas had his head in his hands, perched on the edge of his bed, while the blood stains from his bullet wound were soaking through his coat down his arm. He hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, and there seemed to be a particularly troubled tenseness to the set of his shoulders. Even more than usual. Despite their strained relationship recently, it cut Dean deeply to see him like that – so clearly suffering and so human.

Dean sat heavily onto his own bed opposite Cas. The old springs creaked loudly and protested at the sudden weight. “Alright. Coat off.”

Cas startled and snapped his head up. The lamp beside his bed flickered weakly. “What?”

Dean’s usual enthusiasm for the phenomenon of the flickering lights wasn’t his priority this time, and he pushed his curiosity aside. “Stitches,” Dean said simply, brandishing the first aid kit.

“I don’t need them,” Cas grumbled, looking away. “Once my Grace has recharged enough it will heal on its own.”

“Oh okay, so you’re just going to wait and see if your mojo recharges faster than you bleed? And you’re, what, expecting me to just sit here while we find out? Because I am not okay with that.”

“Yes.”

“Cas. Just let me put some damn stitches in your damn shoulder.”

“No.” The muscles in Cas’s jawline clenched.

Dean scowled as he ran a hand through his hair. It was sticky and matted with drying blood, but that was nothing new. “Let me put it this way. You either take off your coat and shirt willingly, or I will tackle you to that bed and remove them myself” – the lamp flickered again – “so help me God, don’t think that I won’t. Your choice.” Dean had his eyes locked on Cas’s narrowed ones. “I will not let you suffer when I can do something about it. Yeah, you might heal it up yourself in an hour or two, but I’m not going to sit here watching you bleeding and in pain, when I can help. Don’t ask me to.”

“Dean… This is just… It’s a bad idea.”

“A bad idea? To stop you from bleeding out? C’mon man, you’re always healing me up after hunts, let me repay the favor for once. Besides, you took the shot meant for me – it should be me sitting there with the bullet hole.”

Cas went suddenly pale, and his eyebrows drew together in a serious line. “If it were, I would use up whatever Grace I had left to heal you.”

Oh.

Dean blinked in surprise.

Huh. But Cas had been avoiding him so much lately... He’d assumed he didn’t care anymore. “Uh,” Dean faltered, “no, that wouldn’t be okay either. I wouldn’t want that. But maybe I should teach you some basic first aid now that your mojo gets patchy sometimes.” He shook his head. That would require them to be in the same room for more than five minutes. Stupid suggestion. “Look, if you’d want to heal me that badly if we were swapped over here, that’s what I want to do to you right now, get it?”

“I um. I think so.” The line between Cas’s eyebrows grew deeper. “It’s fine now anyway. It barely hurts,” he lied, gripping his shoulder tightly.

“Sure. Okay, Black Knight.”

Cas squinted.

“The Black Knight – ‘‘tis but a flesh wound’? Guess you didn’t get Monty Python in the pop-culture upload. We’ll add it to the list we-” But Dean remembered that they didn’t watch movies together anymore. “Doesn’t matter. Just take your damn coat off, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

That finally cracked a smile onto Cas’s pale face. His lips twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled endearingly.

Dean felt a strong flare of affection at seeing Cas’s smile, after seeing him looking so defeated before, that it immediately softened all of Dean’s concern-masked-as-irritation and he found himself smiling back. He’d missed this. So damn much.

“I’ll patch you up,” Dean said gently, “then you get dibs on the first shower, since you’re the one covered in the most blood. Winchester tradition.”

“I don’t need-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you can just magic your mess away when your power’s back on, but you’re really just gonna sit here like that until then?”

Cas looked down at himself. “You have a point.”

“Always do. Looks like you’ll just have to enjoy shitty motel water pressure like the rest of us.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “And going first means you get the hottest water.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said.

“Then we can both go to sleep so you can recharge your batteries. You can sleep when you’re like this, right? But stitches first. After that there’ll be no touching involved,” Dean added, before he could stop himself. As much as he enjoyed talking to Cas again, it only served as a depressing reminder that they weren’t like this anymore. He gave a sad, weak little laugh, and even he could hear the pain in his voice when he said, “Y’don’t even have to look at me.”

Cas immediately slid off his bed with a rustle, and he was on his knees in front of Dean in the time it took for him to open his mouth to ask what was happening. His eyes shined wetly in the dingy motel room lighting as he gazed up intensely – vulnerable and raw – into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, no. This wasn’t supposed to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you,” Cas said in a voice thick with emotion. “Doing this – distancing myself… It was supposed to make things better, but it… only made everything worse. I hate being apart from you. I hate it. This wasn’t- it’s not- it’s not your fault.” He spoke haltingly, like he was struggling. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I- I don’t know how to explain-”

They were closer than they had been in weeks, and yet Dean could still feel the distance. His heart sunk. “This is starting to feel a whole lot like the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, man.”

Cas scrunched his face up, and Dean knew he was trying to think of a way to say what he meant. He wondered if Angels weren’t very big talkers in their true forms. It was reminiscent of when they first met, and how Cas used to struggle with sarcasm and slang.

Cas already told him once that he’d only started to feel real, strong emotions (Dean called them his Real Boy Feelings) since rescuing him from Hell, so it made sense that he still struggled sometimes. And anyway, Dean had been human his whole life and it wasn’t like he was much better at the whole sharing your feelings crap.

Cas finally looked up through his lashes at him – his expression wary. “Hold out your hand, Dean.”

“What?”

“Hold out your hand, please. I can show you what’s been going on.”

---- Read the rest on AO3 ----

[firefly--bright]

peeks and blinders (you know me)

jean kirstein x gender neutral! reader, modern au

summary : being loved required patience and time and hope. luckily, jean provided all of them, without hesitation.

warnings : feelings of being deeply alone, heavy, hurt/comfort but mostly hurt, reader might sort of have depression

a/n : aha. lol. lmao. uhmmm yeah this is incredibly self indulgent and a projection. if you relate to this please PLEASE know that you're a) not alone and also b) I'm here if you ever need anyone to talk to. i wrote this with an unhappy ending in mind but with the poll results (and let's be honest, the aot finale) I decided to make it a happy ending instead. don't worry, everything works out in the end. this fic might just be terrible if you're already sad, so reader discretion is advised! i dont expect anyone to read the whole thing!!! but if you do read it, I hope you like it because I spent way too long on it. the ending might've been a little rushed only because I wanted to get this out as soon as possible so I could move on with a new fic idea ;)

taglist : @mrsnobodynobody @holding-infinity-and-a-book @jeanscremebrulee (side note- thank you for the kind words in my taglist form's criticism/comments question. i truly, deeply appreciate it :) )

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ requests are open! ✿ likes and reblogs are appreciated! ✿ join my taglist ✿

✿ recommended playlist to listen to while reading ✿

living with someone meant showing yourself, something you weren't afraid of. well, not afraid, more just apprehensive. there was too much of a potential to fucking up a relationship; showing yourself too much in the one place you're allowed to be yourself without restrictions and limitations. you love your friends, you love jean, but sometimes the quietness of being alone was more than welcome because it had to be.

so when jean asked you with eyes that didn't meet your own if you wanted to move in with him, you didn't answer. quiet literally, you paused from eating the slice of pizza in your hand. he continued on with his nervous 'making-up-for-the-lack-of-response' ramble, explaining how you technically already lived together, how he liked finding your toothbrush next to his, and reluctantly admitted that he sometimes used your soap when he wanted to have a good day. a speech that warmed you despite your answer.

because no matter how comfortable you'd be with anyone, sharing the same space with them was a different kind quiet, unrelenting vulnerability. the fact that you existed and let someone percieve you without hinderance was...too much to think about. you had been alone your whole life, not in a pitiable way, but in a way where you didn't have a childhood best friend. you didn't have people stick around, like you were only at a corssroad of people's lives and greeted them with familiarity and comfort that they'd craved, despite your want and desire for it yourself. they'd continue on with their path while you would sit there, patiently, passing time.

jean admitted it to you. indirectly, he had confessed that he wanted to see you vulnerable and bare open in a way that people wouldn't know you normally. in a way where you were simply a locked window that noone had the key to. but there wasn't anything special to hide, no great overview of the city or the sea or rolling hills and valleys and large fields. no, just an unimpressive view of an unmowed backyard. untamed and messy - again, nothing special. just years of neglect while also being looked at. nothing special.

you didn't want him to see it. and technically, he asked you. you stopped spiralling just as he started his own, realising the effect your non verbal answer had on him, you simply said "I'll think about it." and tried to crack jokes along until the end of the night. because if nothing, then jean deserved some peace to balance out the turbulence that came with loving you.

in all honesty, you didn't know what you did. how you comitted the monsterous feat of getting him to love you. how he loved you in your entirety (or lack of it), how he woke up everyday and chose to love you despite everything that you took from him, drawing out his grumbling patience and gentleness because loving you meant waiting. loving you always, somehow, meant not loving you, because there was no way someone would know you, all your stories and opinions and ideas and still choose to love you.

living with you meant knowing your anatomy. not of your physical, breathing body, but the inside of your organs. it meant knowing that your stomach was filled with guilt, that your mouth could only utter whispers of people who once loved you and 'im sorries' to someone who won't know. it meant knowing that your hands were always aching to be held, that your skin was only ever warm when it was loved. it meant knowing that your chest was always heaving, yearning for a breath of relief that would never arrive. it meant knowing that your eyes always wandered off to the weighing scale kept at the back of your closet, always wandered off to find another pair of eyes that would look similar to yours. it meant knowing that your hair was always knotted with the doubts your mouth would never ask. it meant knowing so much about you, about the grey matter in your brain and about what flowed through your veins was nothing but pure doubt and discomfort with the unholy temple that was your body, the temple without a god, the temple that noone went back to. a body without a home.

he wouldn't want to know. he shouldn't want to know, and more importantly, he wouldn't like finding out. it would either be too much or too little, and his fingers would cramp up with the effort it took for him to pry you open, only for no prize to be met with. besides, you were okay just talking to yourself, no matter how insane it sounded. you got through so many years being self-sufficient, right? you didn't know how to handle it, handle someone actually loving you without doubt. you had lived long enough without it. someone loving you was new, something you didn't have a map for, something you didn't have any precautions against.

you and jean slept together that night. in the same bed, breathing the same air, under the same covers. you didn't share the same sleep, however, as his mind made dreams and yours went on like an unfinished painting - a list of unfullfilled answers, no meanings, trying and failing to come together. you found yourself watching him breathe; just his chest moving up and down and up and down, your hands twiching to rest on top of his but you didn't know if that's where they'd belong. if his body would wake itself up because of your touch - everyone was always surprised by how cold your fingers were. you were used to it.

maybe living with him wouldn't be that bad, right? as he said, you already shared the same space to a point where the pair of you felt comfortable enough to not care if your hair was groomed perfectly or if the colours and patterns of your outfit were clashing. but would he like it? would he like just how much more comfortable you could get? just how much you could ask for? just how long you could lock yourself up in the bathroom and try to cry? would he like to know just how long you sometimes spent on your bed, refusing to get up because your heart felt too heavy for your chest? for when your heart felt like it could fall through your back, punch a hole through the ground and bury itself in the earth until it could somehow bonify and fossilize and archeologists would recognise, instantly, that it didn't belong there.

he'd leave. that was something you knew for a fact. your love wouldn't be wasted, ofcourse not, neither would the time, but maybe he'd leave feeling like he'd wasted himself at your expense. or maybe he wouldn't think about you at all.

your night was spent with your brain spiralling - thoughts about how you didn't know how to handle being loved the way he loved you, about how you probably never had a childhood best friend that was still in your life because the phases of your life weren't meant for anyone but yourself to see, about how much your hair fell due to the stress of distracting yourself from overwhelming sadness by studying and creating while also being only slightly average at it. you fell asleep thinking about how the abundance of being alone, to you, meant being not alone at all, because there was no differenciation of company and lonlieness because there hadnt been any company to remind you of the lonliness at all- your eyes had fluttered closed and breathing evened.

jean always wondered if you were hiding something from him. not in a bad way, not in the way where he couldn't say he loves you, but in the way where you'd hesitate. and if he didn't love you as much, he probably wouldn't have even noticed. but fortunately, he did know you. a little too well.

he knew how much you loved the crunchy autumn leaves, so much so that you would alter your paths just to crunch one under your boot, a smile of satisfaction gracing your face after hearing the noise it made. he knew how much your fingers would reach out for his. he knew how much you tried - with everything. he knew of your unsaid struggles, knew when and what made your mood sour. and he loved it, he loved the fact that he knew all of those thing but more importantly, loved that he loved them.

loving you felt like it was a built-in feature.

but despite all of this, he didn't know why. he didn't know why you were the way you were. he knew you tried, but he didn't know why. he knew you struggled, but didn't know why. and it was driving him crazy, especially after last night. he couldn't help himself, even if he could see you, again, trying to diffuse the situation with lighthearted jokes, he couldn't help but think a little too much.

did you not want to? jean had always been honest about how much he struggled with being either too much or too little, about how much the words hurled by his friends when he was young hurt him, about how much his love proved to be uncomfortable and silent and resigned. maybe his honesty was too much for you. maybe you didn't like the burdens he came with, maybe you didn't like knowing how much his father's absence had affected him, or about how much his previous partner altered the way he saw himself to a miserable extent. you hadn't asked for all of this, all of him, all of his parts. maybe you were getting sick of it.

or maybe, if Jean's knowledge about you served right, you were being hesitant again.

he swears he doesn't mind it. you not wanting to move in with him wasn't a problem, but he just wished he knew why. the whole day, the only thing on his mind was how he could feel less hesitant towards him, god, anyone but him. he knew, firsthand, how it felt being so overwhelmed by inconsequencial doubt where he was left with so many regrettable unanswered questions engraved into the palm of his hands because he kept them hidden in his fist for too long, where he wishes, prays, and hopes for an answer that he knows will never arrive even if he doesn't look for it.

there are many things jean wishes and prays and hopes for. you're not one of them. but only because you're here. he doesn't need any other wish to be fulfilled or prayer to be answered or hope to sparkle. you are, inadvertently, all of them. a love without doubt, a wish without a cost, a prayer without a sacrifice, a hope without desperation. you're all of them. you're everything.

but he knows that if he's hesitant this time, if he doesn't reach out to grab you, if he doesn't do something, no matter how desperate, he will most ceratinly feel a deeper regret than he has ever felt before. and yes he may be exxagerating it, but he doesn't care. he'd learnt not to care when he was with you - he's learnt to be comfortable with you and around you. he wants to tell you that it's okay if you don't want to move in with him because his home is wherever you would be, his home is his hand on your thigh, his home is watching you blink in thought, his home is the sound of your footsteps. his home is anywhere with you. you are the only person who has the right to know that.

he makes his familiar way over to your apartment. you're not home yet, sasha informs him with a sleepy voice and messed up hair, "but you can wait in their room." she says because everyone knows that you wouldn't mind him waiting in your room. including him.

he does your routine - the one he's seen you do countless of times when you enter your room - take off his coat and hang it on the back of your door where one of the hooks is kept empty for him, shoulder his bag off and put it down on the spot next to your desk, turn on the desk lamp and the night lamp because you refused to turn the overhead lights on, because "they are so hideous why would I want to turn them on," according to you, and then finally occupy the space on your bed, laying his back down and his hands resting on his stomach as he waited for you.

staring at the cracking paint on the ceiling of your bedroom, jean thinks. from his pending homework that he's mentally figuring out how to schedule to how he's going to conduct this new group project with people he has never talked to before to how is it already the second last year of University because it felt like the first day was yesterday, until finally his thoughts landed on you. of course it would always lead to you.

it started from him thinking about University, then about how he met you on the second day, seeing you in one of his classes, sitting diagonaly across him, how you conducted yourself, slipping your bag off and checking your phone. then it turned to him seeing you at the freshers party where he saw his now ex-partner with someone he knew he shouldve questioned more. how he stormed off of the party with half tears of sadness and half of anger, catching a glimpse of you in the corner of the room, looking kind of lost. he saw you multiple times after that but never talked to you. he saw you at an ice-cream parlor once. he wanted to talk to you, but Connie had loudly confirmed the tickets to this new concert, which took away Jean's attention from you. but then he was introduced to you by Marco, because of course it would be Marco who had the pleasure to befriend amazing people. he met you then, properly, when you introduced yourself, and he nodded at you with little regard.

jean shook his head with a little smile. he had been so stupid, that day. he barely looked in your direction as you got acquainted with Marco, Connie and sasha, but he didn't disregard the fact that you looked less lost than you were at the party.

you had a way of sticking around, jean found out after that. he didn't realise when you had slipped into his life, hiding in plain sight. one night he found himself awake the same time as you and the next, he found himself saving a seat for you in the class you shared with him. soon enough, you knew him as well as he knew you, and there was softness in the recognition your eyes held when they met with his. the same appreciation of his existence, something he hadn't felt before. he couldn't say that he knew you as well as the back of his hand, because really, he knew you like the back of your hand, because he'd looked at your hands more than he'd ever looked at his, noticing all the little creases and scars and veins and hairs. he knew what warmth they held, he'd felt it after your hands made their way into his while walking back to your dorm on a cold night. a night jean would never forget because he had frantically knocked on your door right after leaving you there, because his senses had finally worked and he had finally found out that he wanted to kiss you. and he did, and you kissed back, and jean swore he had never been happier even while he could hear sasha and Connie and Marco cheering for the both of you. he kissed your forehead as a goodnight that night. you were in his shirt.

you were his home before he even knew what his home was, before he could find out for himself. you became an answer with a question.

he sighed, hearing your footsteps make their way through the tiny apartment, saying a small "hi," to sasha who was sleeping on the couch. the door to your room swung open just as jean sat up, his weight resting on his forearms on your mattress. you didn't seem surprised that he was there, just flashing a smile at him before removing your bag and placing it down, and jean felt his heart flutter with comfort as your presence filled the room.

his eyes trailed you as you did the same thing he did a few moments ago, plopping yourself down right next to him. your breathing evened out with his as the two of you lay in silent comfort before jean spoke.

his voice was a low hum. the words were barely different, but you understood them anyway. "yknow you can talk to me about anything, right? even if it's sad or not funny or not...I don't know, not remarkable. you can say it. i won't laugh unless you want me to." he says. it's a flimsy promise, but you know his words hold a meaning that you can't quiet grasp.

his palm lays on top of the back of your hand.

he's warm. scarily so, because why would someone hold so much warmth towards you? more importantly, jean extended his hand without even meaning to, like muscle memory, which was, again, terrifying, because loving you as habitual purpose was scarier than you having to prove yourself for it.

your shoulders relax almost instantly; habitually and with purpose. was the purpose of it to not have a purpose at all? was the meaning of your being to not have any meaning at all? was it just to love despite it?

you wanted to do good. not in a special or overly remarkable way, because you knew you would never reach that mark because you never had, but in the way where you'd be recognized. in crowded rooms, you'd be sought out for because of your "goodness" - be it reliability, comfort, all the things you usually associated with jean. which was ironic, because noone who didn't know him like you did would ever think of jean in that way.

"i.." you say, trailing off. you want to say that you know, but it'd be a lie. it'd be a false promise, and jean didn't need that any more than he needed you. so you say, "I'll keep that in mind."

jean doesn't buy it. his hand squeezes yours, stubbornly. "no, i don't want you to keep that in mind, I want you to want to do it." he says. his head turns towards you, watching the side of your face with an expression you know better than anything. the slight furrow of his brows, slightest scowl on his face that was masked by a layer of genuine concern.

"what I mean is.... you don't have to be so hesitant with me." he says. you want to blink back surprise, except that it's not really surprising. he's seen you, more so than anyone ever has, so it's not surprising that he'd see if one day was affecting you worse than the other days. it makes you want to scream because you don't know how to deal with it.

you close your eyes as if that would help. it wasn't like you were good at running away from affection, mostly because you never needed to. if anything, you were used to running towards it, desperately, just trying. but here it was, now, the resolution of it all, of all of the aches and creakings of your deepest yearnings, yet you couldn't seem to look at it. look at him - at jean, your best friend, someone you'd do anything for - with eyes that matched his.

you sigh. there's a deep silence, and jean isn't anticipating anything. his hand is still on yours and he feels you squeeze it tightly, but he isn't going anywhere for you to hold on to him. even if he wasn't tethered to you, he'd want to stay by your side, without any precautions or promise of a fruitful result. he'd stay with you regardless.

he isn't waiting for you to say anything, because being with you feels more than adequate, like it's instinct, like his shoulders relaxing when it's just the two of you, or like that tingly feeling in his chest when you kiss his cheek after a long day.

but when you do speak, it's with resignation and certain grief. "i dont think you'll like me. if I... if we move in together, I think, realistically, you won't like it."

"how can you be so sure?" he asks. it's not a serious question, but he thinks it's a start. you're doing it, you're being less hesitant, and atleast that's somewhere to begin.

"i just am." you say, shrugging. but it's not a fact, atleast, it shouldn't be. it isn't to jean. he's rolling his eyes now, but he's not annoyed or digusted. "how?" he presses, because he knows there's more, there always had been with you.

"i get too much. and then too little. like none of it is ever just right. and I'm scared that you'll see it and...I don't know, get frustrated at my lack of everything." you say. there's truth in every word even though you desperately wish there wasn't. you're still hesitating, but it's less so. your hand is still in his, still squeezing it. it was predictable - something you found yourself relying on - the warmth of his palm and the way his hand would also engulf yours with the same echoing softness it always had. even if his fingers were calloused and a little rough, it didn't matter. they still held you the same.

he's clinging onto every word you're saying, every small explanation, every twitch of your eyebrows. he knows what's going to come, he knows there's going to be an admission of guilt coming on soon enough but he also knows, more importantly, that he'll be there to tell you that no, he does not regret loving you, and yes, he will keep doing it over and over and over again.

"I've never been... wanted like this. or like anything, I guess. and I'm so scared," you breathe in deeply, keeping your tears at bay. jean pushed himself onto his forearm, looking at you in a way you've never been looked at before. "I'm so scared of disappointing you because I think that's all I've ever done. that's all I know how to do." the box is open now, and it's not forced or pried with effort. jean has always known how to open it, you think, you just didn't let him. he does it now, with the same hands you find comfort in, the same gentleness that his eyes have always held for you.

you're crying. you don't have anything else to add to your statements, and they hang in the air as if waiting for you to complete them, expecting you to do something. but you don't and you can't and jean is holding you, his hands are at your sides and your nose is buried into his shoulder and you think the words and the expectations can wait for now, or for however long jean is willing to take care of you.

your shoulders shake. jean is whispering into your ear, asking you to breathe. he's saying it so kindly that you feel the need to comply, and when your lungs finally calm, he rewards you with a kiss on your forehead.

you think if how much of a liability all of this is. about how much you weigh in emotions when you're this open and vulnerable. not even like an open, unhealing wound, but more like that feeling you get when you finally decide to read an unread text message that had been sitting there for a month, but you're the person who both sent the text and also the one replying to it and also the one who was watching it unfold. you caused this, you were the only one who was replying, and you were also the witness to all of this.

but now jean was here. it was unusal and strange - someone being there, actually, physically and mentally present instead of those placating "you'll get over its" that were repeated to you by the few people you decided to open up to.

the two of you are silent now, only broken up by deep, almost heaving breaths from you, something you wish you would stop doing. instead of you digging your nails into your palms like all the other times, your nails are clinging onto jeans clothes, and he doesn't seem to mind. instead of it being your blankets like all the other times, it was Jean's soft heat wrapped around you, moving with each breath you took until your chest didn't feel as heavy anymore.

"i know." he says, finally. he doesn't expect you to answer, ofcourse, but he knows you're listening because you shift slightly in his arms. "i know...too well, what it's like. i know that moving in means more to you than it means to people in general. i know that it's not even about moving in together. i.." he's being hesitant. finding the right words, but for once, Jean's happy about this trait of his. he's glad he rethinks decisions and the next time when he tries again, he's more sure of it. hes sure that he loves you, hes sure that he wasn't made to love you but he grew into it because there's that choosing again, the fact that yes, he did probably have a choice, but he would never even consider it. he doesn't want to consider it and maybe that's more important than there even being a choice. he wishes he could put it into words that would make sense.

instead, he opts to say, "I am so sorry you had to think all of this all alone for so long. but I'm...I'm here now. i know that won't solve everything instantly, ofcourse it won't, but I will be here until it will. i will wait."

there's promise in his voice, a conviction that you hadn't heard before. you trust him, you always have, but you don't know if you trust yourself with this. you don't trust yourself to be someone he loves. he's quick to quiet your concerns after yet another peck on your forehead.

"but don't you think I take too much?" you ask. its doubtful, the steps you're taking on the usually thick ice that has turned too thin too fast. you're afraid you're going to offend him, but you stand no chance against Jean's all-knowing sigh. it's not a tired sound, not one anyone gives before they're about to give up. you're not sure what kind of sigh it is, but jean doesn't let you figure it out for yourself because he's answering.

the ice turns into concrete. he's become your footing, the reason you're still standing and not under numerous feet of cold water. "i dont think you're taking. your....your love doesn't ask to take. you love despite everything, not because of it. everyone, including me, focuses on how to be loved, on how to be a perfect image that probably won't last for too long, but you..... you focus on shaping your love, the love you give. i dont know if you've noticed it, but you do. you don't take too much, you give without expectations. you give with hope. it's beautiful." he pauses. "you're beautiful." he says. he's not looking anywhere else but your eyes that are welling up with familiar tears.

you suck in a breath. "im not used to sweet words, jean," you say, the breath you held releasing with a bittersweet smile. "i dont know how to handle all of this love you're giving me. i think... i think you love me too much." another tear down your cheek and onto the mattress. jean wipes away it's remnants.

"i dont love you nearly enough." he says with the same laugh you had given him, "but you'll grow into it. just like how you grew into everything else, you'll grow into being loved. i grew into it too," he says. his forehead touches yours. the proximity makes you shiver. "i grew into just how much you love me. and I wanna keep growing into it because I love loving you. i love you loving me, as selfish as it sounds."

you take a moment to register his words. yes, you weren't used to being so vehemently and stubbornly loved and taken care of, but you could. you could get used to it, get used to crying in your beloved's arms, being fed spoonfuls of carefully heated up soup that would settle into your belly, being looked at for more than a split second. you couldn't fathom it now, sure, only because you could've never believed it before, but that could change. you could grow into loving love, into accepting it just as freely as you had given it.

jean wasn't holding you with a death grip because he knew that you wouldn't leave, atleast, he didn'tanymore. he would've done it, he had all the reasons to. if he were still fifeteen, he would've thought that he had to come beg and cling on to love to make it stay. he had to do something spectacular, something entirely not himself in order to prove that he was atleast worth giving a try but with you...he didn't have to beg. he didn't even have to ask. for a while it felt undeserved, all of this care you were giving his somehow beating heart, all of this ointment you were providing to his broken bones, but he somehow, miraculously, grew into it, because he let you in. he let you see him with the eyes that would rival the ones he was sure the gods had, he let you see him and all his unknown and unsaid sins and let you love him anyway because you wanted to, because you didn't see something in him - a potential of something greater - but you saw him as he was. as he is. and nothing in your smile changed. and if you could do that, then he'd be damned if he didn't love you the same.

no words were said after that, only Jean's heartbeat mingling with your own in your ear. both of your eyes were closed, his hands relaxed on your back, your chest no longer heaving, commanding you to pay attention to it.

you fell asleep in the silence of promise.

---

the promise continued even a week later, turning into two, turning into four, wherein jean kept loving you despite and because of, unafraid and unwavering and for the first time, without any hesitance.

you were keeping up on your promise too. trying to accept it - all of this affection, his affection - without hesitance. it was hard but mundane things usually are and you continued to grow and mend and try, above all else, which was more than jean hoped for.

he's passing you the brush he had slathered the perfect amount of toothpaste on, slipping into the comfort of the cool night warmed by the heat of your previously taken shower in your bathroom. you smile at him as a thanks, and he nods as a welcome, and no words are spoken. no words need to be spoken, and his right hand makes its way to the small of your back, his left brushing his teeth as you start brushing yours and you think that maybe everything is uncertain. everything always has been and always will be, and loving someone has always been uncertain, too. being loved has always come with doubt and guilt and shame. but the only difference was that now, both of you hoped. you hoped that everything would be alright in the end, jean hoped that he'd get to share the same bed as you in the end.

hope was flimsy and hopeless, too optimistic, but now it served as something you both shared. the shared sentiment of hoping that you'd have eachother till the end was more important than the uncertainty. it meant that both of you would keep trying. you don't need to be sitting, waiting patiently and hopelessly at the same crossroad now, because Jean's hand is on the small of your back, the watch on his wrist is still and unticking, and you're walking down the same road with the same landmarks and the same gravel because you want to. you've moved from your old spot on the pavement because you want to. you're learning how to love the sound of your own footsteps, how to love the action of one foot infront of the other, and the best part is, Jean's learning too.

loving isn't a reciprocal or a transaction or a grand 'aha!' it's an act of hope. hoping they'll see you the same. hoping they'll have the same hopes as you. hoping they'll want to be loved by you, because hope doesn't require anything grand, hoping doesn't require a god to pray to or a cost to pay. it requires soft, undettered, unsaid patience. something jean, persistently, had. something you, stubbornly, held.

you paused from brushing your teeth to look at your love. you were wearing his old t-shirt that had faint stains of ink and old paint on it, and he was donning the headband you had owned for years to keep his hair out of his face. he glances at you through the mirror, then turns to you, nodding to you, eyebrows arching in a question.

you spit out the toothpaste into the sink. looking back to him, you say, with all the conviction and hope you can muster up, "I want to move in with you."

jeans mouth turns upwards, still full of toothpaste. he doesn't say anything. he doesn't need to say anything.

everything's already been said, already been understood.

because he knows you. and he couldn't be more happier to.

(when you pick the curtains for your new home, you are held up by jean, who's hands grasp the ladder you're on. you're looking down on him after the work is done and he's smiling, and you're smiling, and at night you're using the same stove to make the same dinner that the two of you will share along with some old wine and old stories. he holds you when you fall asleep, and your arms are around his torso as he snores softly. your love is stored in the blood of his veins. his love is stored in the palm of your hands, and even if you don't hold it, it still stays there, unmoving, growing, attached.)

✿

[yunalinwrites]

kids on christmas eve | gojo satoru x reader

available on wattpad

cover by me

summary: you learn about what happened with geto suguru and make him talk to you about it

about reader: gender neutral, relationship to gojo is unclear but they're close, on a first name basis + implied to be romantic

warnings: sad (if i did my job right), mild cursing, spoilers for jjk 0 + gojo's past/hidden inventory/star plasma vessel arc

notes: i know this is really out of season bc christmas has long passed but its for the plot lol as u prob know dec 24th is an important date

anyways i prob could've edited more but tbh i just wanted to post it already lmao hope its not cringe cuz i didn't shower to finish it (avg jjk degenerate) also im angry this was correctly formatted in google docs but tumblr ruined it and i cant b bothered to reread it under the new formatting so srry if theres smth wrong

"Gojo-sensei, that's not fair!"

Itadori had his bottom lip stuck out, his arms crossed tightly and his feet stomping against the snow.

"Yeah, come on!" Kugisaki agreed, mitten-clad hands full of the cold ammunition. "Turn it off, will you?"

You looked over to where Satoru stood. The snowballs that floated around him made it a little hard to see, but you could still tell his face was like it always was: smiling, the only deviation from its usual state being the pink on his pale nose. The rosy shade was just like his tongue when he stuck it out. 

"Come and make me," he taunted.

"Why, you little..." Kugisaki grumbled. "Okay, Itadori, Formation B!"

"Roger!" Itadori yelled back.

The pair performed a number of flashy poses--as if they were trying to imitate something they'd seen in a cartoon--and before you knew it, they were charging at Satoru from two sides, arms fully loaded and wound back with mounds of snow. But it seemed Satoru knew it before you, because he just tsked--didn't even bother catching the snowballs, just let them fall apart against his forcefield.

"Gojo-sensei!" the two groaned in unison.

"You're no fun!" Itadori complained.

"It's not supposed to be fun," Satoru countered with a playful shrug. "Just because it's a snow day doesn't mean you can stop training."

"But... but... But what about...!" Kugisaki sputtered, a vein popping out of her forehead as she struggled to come up with an argument. You could almost see the lightbulb pop up above her head as she pounded her fist in her palm. "But what about global warming?"

"Yeah!" Itadori followed, not thinking. "What about--Wait, what?" Scratching his head, he tilted his head at Kugisaki.

"It could totally be the last day it ever snows, you know," she claimed matter-of-factly, her hands on her hips. "And I would so hate you forever."

Itadori's mouth formed a silent "Oh!" as Kugisaki elaborated. Nodding his head in accord, he added on: "Yeah, Gojo-sensei. I don't think I could respect you after that."

Satoru put on a dramatic pout at that last sentence, but he soon returned to a smile and gave in with a sigh. "Alright, just this once."

You could see the two students loudly jumping for joy from behind him as he made his way towards where you were sitting. You smiled warmly at the sight.

"They really are something," you commented.

"Tell me about it," Fushiguro grumbled, leaning boredly against the wooden armrest of the park bench. He observed quietly as his friends built a snowman in the distance until Satoru's towering shadow prompted him to look up.

"Megumi!" Satoru called, his voice high-pitched and sing-song. "Go play with the others."

The boy scowled in response. "I'm too old for that stuff."

"You think you're old?" Satoru challenged. He pointed at his hair, at the white color it's always been. "What does that make me?" He hunched over and put his hand on his lower spine, feigning back pain. "C'mon, listen to your teacher. Let me sit next to Y/N."

Fushiguro squinted at him for a moment before finally getting up."Gross."

You chuckled, watching the boy begrudgingly drag his feet through the snow towards his classmates, but your laughter hitched as you felt something push against you. Turning to your right, you saw his lanky teacher. At first the sensation didn’t make sense, considering that there was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you, but you soon recalled his defense measures and the complaints they had garnered. 

Not noticing your discomfort, he stared up at the cloudy sky for a moment before turning to you. 

"Are you cold?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I should be asking you," you replied, referencing his lack of winter wear. "Why didn't you wear a coat?"

"Well, it would ruin my outfit, of course," he stated perkily. He wore a confident smirk on his face, but looking closer you could tell he was shivering beneath the thin fabric of his uniform.

Taking a deep breath in disapproval, you reached for your scarf. "Here," you offered, unraveling the knot you’d made earlier. But when you reached to wrap it around his neck, you felt the resistance of his invisible force.

His smile eased. "It's okay," he obliged, sniffling. "Thank you, though."

You hesitated before tying your scarf back around yourself, the garment's chunky knit giving it enough volume to nearly cover your mouth and even your ears, but you could still hear his teeth chatter. You searched your surroundings, looking past the dead snow-adorned trees and following the wet pavement until you spotted something in the distance: a cafe, just down the street from where you were.

"I'll get you some hot chocolate," you decided, standing up and brushing the snowflakes off your coat.

"You don't--"

"Shh!" You pointed your finger threateningly at him before turning around to begin your walk. "Somehow you've bent logic so far that you'll end up sick if you don't drink it. So just take this as an excuse to have more sweets, alright?"

You were just about to make your first step away from the bench, but then you felt a firm grip wrap around your arm. "Wait, Y/N--"

Before he could finish his protest, he was cut off by a particularly firmly packed snowball striking him right in the middle of his face, highlighting his nose with the sparkling white powder and dislodging his blindfold. With his cerulean eyes now exposed, he turned his head and saw the three of them: Itadori pointing and cackling on the left, Kugisaki doing the same keeled over in the middle, and even Fushiguro, on the right, had the ends of his mouth perked up as he shook his head hopelessly.

You saw Satoru grin at the picture, but it was contradictory to what you were feeling. He had let go of your arm, but not by relaxing his hand--you felt him, as if brick by brick, build that invisible wall right back up between you, seemingly stronger than ever. You could still feel it, even as he walked away towards the trio, tying his blindfold back on. Sighing, you sat back down and watched him make snow angels with the others, his head blending right in with the scene as he drowned himself in the blinding whiteness. With his blindfold now fully on, you could only imagine what it was like when he smiled with his eyes.

***

"I can't feel my toes."

Twirling her brown hair between her fingers, Shoko spun around in her chair to face the doorway.

She darted her eyes between you and Satoru for a second before a calm, amused expression painted her face. Despite knowing it was his voice she heard--though it was more nasal than usual--she directed her question at you: "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I told him to wear thicker socks!" you exclaimed, your arms crossed in frustration. "But look! Show her."

Rolling his eyes behind his blindfold, Satoru pulled the fabric on his thighs, lifting the hems of his pants so that they revealed his ankles. They were barely covered by the cheap red and green striped polyester; it was the kind of thing you'd spot on sale in packs at the checkouts during Christmas season.

“So I forgot… Big deal!”

“I could fill a library with all the things you forgot,’” you complained. “I mean, what are you, a fish?”

Unfazed, Shoko chuckled. "You're telling me the strongest--the one powerful enough to rival the King of Curses--was defeated by a case of frostbite?"

The both of you responded simultaneously: "Exactly." "No!"

"I was not defeated," he insisted, earning a glare from you. "Barely a scratch. She's just being dramatic."

"I am not--"

"Is there a reason you can't heal yourself?" Shoko interrupted, now turned to Satoru.

He pointed his thumb in your direction accusingly. "She wanted to come here, not me."

"Wait," you interjected. "You can heal yourself?”

“Of course, duh.”

“Since when?"

"High school," he answered dismissively, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "See, look!"

He pointed down to his shoes--through the leather of his dress boots, you could see the movement of his wriggling toes. 

You held your hands up to hide his feet from your sight. “Ew, stop that--" you grimaced. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged, smirking smugly. "My talent should go without saying."

You sighed. “Your talent to bewilder me?”

"You know it,” he asserted proudly. "But anyways–Can I go now?"

Before you could even answer, you could sense him already moving in your peripheral vision.

"Satoru, wait--"

"If you don't believe I'm fine, I'll show you my toes," he threatened, halfway out the door.

"Satoru--!"

"Go on, catch me if you can!"

You listened, trying to grab onto him but, once again, his Infinity blocked you, making you stumble into Shoko's arms as it pushed you backwards. By the time you regained your balance and rushed into the hallway, his long strides and newly healed feet had already carried him beyond your sight.

You sighed and re-entered the room, brushing yourself off. "Do you have anything for a cold?" you asked.

"I should," Shoko replied, opening up one of her medicine cabinets. "Why, are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, no, it's for him," you explained. "He's had a runny nose all week. I told him not to go out in the snow with the kids, but... You know how he is."

She hummed in acknowledgement with an understated smile, picking out a bottle of Acetaminophen capsules. Making her way over to you, she held up the container.

"I have these," she told you, but she didn't hand them to you; she just kept holding it up as she continued, "but, in my professional opinion, I don't think he has a cold."

"What do you mean?" you asked, your brow raised.

"Y/N, do you know what tomorrow is?"

"It's... the 24th."

"Mhm."

"So... Christmas Eve?"

She looked down at the floor, placing the bottle on a nearby counter and leaning back against it, getting comfortable. She stayed quiet for a moment, biting her lip in deep thought as she continued to stare at the floor with her arms crossed. But then, finally, she sighed, and reached into her coat pocket for a cigarette.

"Would you like one?" she offered, flicking the lighter at the end of the stick

"Um... No thank you..."

"Have a seat." She gestured to the metal seat against the wall.

Still thoroughly confused, you did as you were told. You felt as if your parents were about to have a stern "talk" with you--as if you had broken a vase or--arguably worse--it was time for you to understand the birds and the bees. That thought, along with the cold steel beneath you, sent chills up your body.

In an attempt to quell your anxiety, you beat her to the punch and spoke up: "You went to high school together, didn't you?"

She blew out a lengthy tangle of smoke strings. "That's right," she answered.

You shifted in your seat. "Has he always been... like this?"

"No,” she chuckled, bringing the cigarette back to her lips. "He used to wear glasses."

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned forward in shock. "Seriously?"

She reached into her coat pocket again, this time producing a small print of a photo. 

You took the glossy sheet from her hands and studied it, your mouth agape. Sure enough, there he was, on Shoko's right, smiling widely with his hair down and a pair of round sunglasses, both of them holding up peace signs. But, while Shoko's arm was clearly holding up the camera for the selfie, one of Satoru’s arms appeared to be wrapped around the shoulders of a black-haired man you didn't recognize.

Your brows furrowed at the sight. "Who's the one on the left?"

The scent of the nicotine got stronger as she took her time to ponder her answer, staring blankly into the back of the photo beneath your thumbs.

"That's Geto Suguru,” she finally told you.

You scanned his portrait meticulously. The man wore a grumpy expression with dark bags under his eyes and, contrary to the cheerful pose of the other two, he was flipping off the camera.

“Was he an upperclassman?” you asked.

She shook her head. “He was our classmate.” She gestured towards the photo with her cigarette. “We were all second-years there.”

“No way…” Holding the photo closer, you could have sworn you saw the outline of ear gauges behind Shoko’s head. “He looks so much older.”

You returned the photo to her and she slipped it back in her pocket, not taking even a glance at it as she did. She just spoke plainly: “He’s Satoru’s best friend.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Really? I wonder why I haven’t heard of him, then."

She took another puff, turning her face away from you as she let it out. “Tomorrow is his death anniversary.”

Your eyes widened before falling to the floor. “Oh… I see…”

You fell into a solemn trance, not knowing what you should or shouldn’t say and, consequently, opting to stay quiet out of respect. But, suddenly, you were interrupted by the sound of light laughter. 

“Even if he were still with us, I doubt you would’ve been able to tell. They bickered so much you’d think they hated each other.”

She walked around to the other side of the counter, leaning forward on it as she rested her hand on her palm.

“Who could get to class faster… Who could shoot more hoops in a minute… Who could make a bigger crater in the courtyard…”

You tried to imagine the pair wreaking havoc on an older version of the Jujutsu Tech Campus, but while it was easy to fit Satoru’s cheeky grin into all of these scenarios, it was hard to see such a mature-looking person as Geto doing these childish things.

“Ah, but you know, Y/N,” she started, looking up at you with a smile. “I think you would have been able to tell that Suguru was actually younger.”

“What?” you gasped, surprised at both the fact that he was younger and that Shoko thought that would be clear to you. “There’s no way…”

“Well, for starters, Suguru is shorter, if you put them side-by-side,” she argued. “And… Hm…”

She stopped to contemplate how to put together her next sentence–or if she should even do so at all. But in the end, she brought her cigarette back to her lips and exhaled: “I think you would have agreed with me that he’s the more immature one.”

Your brows furrowed as you scoffed in disbelief. “That's impossible… Satoru could be ten-feet tall and not a single thing on this planet could make him seem more mature than another person.”

She chuckled, though you could sense a sadness behind the sound, and you realized that your comment might’ve come off as insensitive. Clearing your throat, awkwardly, you granted her the floor: “What makes you say that?”

She took another inhale and sighed out a long cloud. Looking out the window of her office, she saw the faint glow of the multicolored lights that decorated it on the outside. She took in the sight for a quiet moment before sinking into her swivel chair, puffing once more.

“I still don’t know much about his childhood,” she began. “I never asked, and I never got to meet his parents. But I can tell you for certain that Suguru was the sort of kid who threw a tantrum when he didn’t get what he wanted for Christmas.

“I’m sure he had wishlists a mile long, but he wouldn’t be the kind to write even a single letter about it to Santa. Of course, that’d make it difficult for his family, and maybe they could've tried harder to figure it out–but he just wouldn't understand why what he wanted wasn't obvious to everyone.

“I can imagine one day someone told him the truth about Santa, and he was probably absolutely devastated. But, to him, it wouldn't be about the presents. It would be about the people around him: his mom, his dad, his teachers, his neighbors, everyone–the people who had been deceiving him his whole life.

“I don't think he ever forgave anyone for that, all the way up until he found himself as a seventeen-year-old at Jujutsu High.”

The air became thick–suffocatingly so–and your spine no longer fit right against the back of the bench.

“What exactly… did he do?” 

She rolled her chair towards her desk and put out her cigarette, pushing and twisting it into the ashtray by her desk calendar.

“In a single night, he killed one hundred and twelve civilians–non-sorcerers–including his parents. He wanted to create a world where only sorcerers exist.”

“O-oh my God…” Your hand rose up to cover your gaping mouth. “Wh.. Why?!”

“By killing non-sorcerers, you stop curses from the source.”

“But you can't just–” You cut yourself off, thousands of words rushing and racing to your mouth. “Didn't anyone try to stop him?”

“Maybe Satoru could've. If Suguru decided to tell him, that is.”

Your face was wound up in concern. “That's horrible…”

“I know, right?” she casually agreed.  “To want to be understood, but never willing to understand… Isn't it childish?” She even laughed. “Though, I suppose he was just a kid.”

“Just a kid?!” You stuck your head out in disbelief. “No, no… Satoru is childish. But that–that’s… inhumane!

You pointed to the door. “Satoru was a kid.”

You pointed to her. “You were a kid.”

Lowering your hand, you scrunched the hem of your shirt. “I might not have known you then, but I know you never would have done that.”

“To be fair, I'm not the strongest,” she defended plainly. “I'm just a doctor.”

The crease between your eyebrows deepened as you threw your arms up. “Okay–then Satoru! Satoru would never do something like that! And he… he's still a kid!”

“Satoru killed his best friend–his one and only.” She clasped her hands together on her desk. “A kid wouldn't do that, would they?”

You froze at the edge of your seat, blinking rapidly as you pieced together the puzzle.

“He… killed…?” you trailed off.

Shoko stared grimly at her hands as she tightened her grip on herself. “A kid wouldn’t have understood.”

You bore your eyes into her, waiting, begging for her to continue, to elaborate, to make it make sense, but she just stayed quiet, kept to herself.

You directed your eyes to the freshly polished floor tiles. As you stared into the blurry reflection of yourself, you tried imagining it again: Satoru, tall and white haired, and this kid grumpy little kid he called Suguru, wreaking havoc on the old campus of Jujutsu High: walking to class together, dribbling a basketball between each other, meeting up in the courtyard with one another.

 “That…” you began hesitantly. “That still doesn't excuse what happened.”

Shoko looked up at you, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and though she wasn’t as contented as she had been before your conversation, her expression was no longer grave; she seemed satisfied. Slowly, she put her palms on her desk and pushed herself up from her seat.

“To answer your question from earlier–properly,” she started, making her way over to you. “I think that Satoru has always been that way–the way Gojo Satoru has to be.”

“But if there were ever a time that he weren’t,” she interjected, sliding her hand into her coat pocket.

“It would have been thanks to him.”

***

Your footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, stopping every once in a while to slide open one of the stiff doors only to struggle to shut it a moment later. You increased the reach of your steps, and the thump of your shoes against the wood planks competed with the hooting owl perched on the snow covered roof.

Suddenly, you heard a new noise: a honking, like that of a goose, coming from the end of the hall and slightly to the left. Now picking up to a jog, you made a beeline for the door and jerked it open.

“Well, if it isn’t my long-awaited Christmas present!” he exclaimed. “Looks like Santa’s early this year.”

He rested against the corner of one of the student’s desks, already facing you with his hands in his pocket. From behind him, you could just barely see the white crumpled-up balls of tissue that scattered the surface.

“I guess some people do gifts on Christmas Eve though, right?” he considered, putting a finger to his chin. “But, ah… choosing gifts is so hard. I need all the time I can get.”

He didn’t acknowledge your entrance at all; his Six Eyes had seen it coming miles away, allowing him enough time to get into position to pick up wherever you’d last left off. You didn’t acknowledge him either, keeping a stone face as you stepped into the room.

“What’s with the face, hm? Did you not like your presents?”

“Satoru,” you said sternly.

“Did you ask Santa for anything this year?” he went on, continuing to pay you no mind.

You sighed. You couldn’t help but let the ends of your lips pick up, but you kept your eyes down at the dirtied pattern of the floor.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” you admit.

“What? Why not?” he questioned astonishedly, forming a pout. “Does that mean you didn’t get me a present?”

You shook your head lightly, making your way over to him. “I’ve always thought it was sort of weird. To celebrate the birth of a martyr.”

“Hm,” he sounded. “Well that’s no fun.”

Planting his hands on the surface, he hoisted himself up onto his desk. “Santa probably wouldn’t give anything other than coal to a non-believer,” he noted. “But since I’m so nice, I’ll get you something. Just tell me–what is it that you want for Christmas?”

His smile stayed in place as you darted your pupils around his visage, your own face beginning to fall. You took slow steps towards the desk next to him, getting as close as you could before you felt his Infinity push back

“Satoru, can you do me a favor?” you requested gently.

“Depends on what the favor is,” he chirped back.

Reaching your hand out, you traced your forefinger on the edge of the invisible barrier before applying pressure into it, testing the shield’s strength. You pushed with all your might, but all it did was whiten your finger tip and make your knuckles concave.

You retracted, looking back into his eyes. “Can you take it down?”

You could see the movement of his eyebrows raising beneath his blindfold. “You tryna kill me?”

Again, you shook your head, still solemn. 

He crossed his arms and squinted at you, biting his cheek. Leaning back, he put his weight onto his hands behind him, loosely grabbing the edge of his desk, his expression becoming relaxed. “Alright. Here you go.”

You took another small step into the newfound space until you were only inches apart. Slowly, you extended both your hands towards his face, but then suddenly reeled them back into a hesitant fist in disbelief, the lack of resistance uncomfortably foreign.

You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled the air shakily through your mouth, trying hard to slow the rapid beating in your chest. Ignoring the smirk on his face, you tried to reach out to him, one final time.

Letting your arms wrap around his head, your hands searched his silky hair for the knot that held up his eye covering. When you finally felt the bump, you took your time digging your nails into where the fabric held onto itself, carefully pulling apart its loops.

As the blindfold fell to his neckline, his signature grin stayed plastered on his face, but just about every other feature of his seemed to change completely when the white wisps came down to frame them. His azure eyes, for example, glimmered under the faint moonlight coming through the window, but not in the way that they usually did. They were shining like lacquer, but it was as if, from underneath that, their batteries had been taken out. In their dullness, you could see the reflection of the long white lashes resting on the eyelids above, forming sharp, unnatural shapes as they clumped together unevenly. Pink waterlines painted the bottom of his irises, and a faint red was seemingly airbrushed around the surrounding puffy skin.

You trailed your hands down the back of his head until they cupped his jawline, holding his face as you explored its entirety. Moving from his eyes to his flushed, leaking nose, his smirk grew when your gaze landed on his lips.

“Are you sure you want to use your gift on this?” he teased. “Kind of a waste, in my opinion–you could’ve just found a mistletoe.”

“Satoru.”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to stop smiling.”

For a moment, he listened to you: his mouth fell open, but then it fell back into its previous position as he flashed his teeth at you. “My bad. I didn’t mean to blind you.”

“Please?”

He kept still while your thumb gently stroked his powder-smooth cheek. He jolted slightly as his lungs forced out a nervous chuckle, but he trailed off as your touch continued on him. Realizing your relentlessness, he sucked in his lips and clamped them together with his teeth as if he was trying to stop any further laughter.

He stayed like this for a moment, waiting for you to let go, but your tender movements showed no signs of stopping–you only slowed down when your eyes flitted up to meet his. He tried his best to return your stare, but eventually, he accepted defeat in the contest. And so, little by little, he let his lips roll out and the muscles to dispose into a resting state.

His voice became low, a near whisper. “Is… everything okay?”

Finally removing your hands from him, you nodded. Returning them to yourself, you glided one into the back pocket of your pants.

Taking a step back, you held up the sheet of glossy photo paper side-by-side with his face. You could name a number of differences: the neckline of the teacher’s uniform was looser and higher, his bangs now were longer and a bit thicker, and, of course, he wasn’t wearing glasses, and he wasn’t smiling. But, somehow, now more than ever, you could see the resemblance.

“What have you got there?”

Moving towards him again, you handed him the photo. It felt strange, witnessing the rare sight of his pupils’ every rapid move. And in addition to that, ever so slightly, you could see his swollen under eyes rise as the softest of smiles pushed up his cheeks. It was nothing like the sickeningly-sweet beamings you were used to seeing from him, though; it was subdued, raw like the cacao in dark chocolate, undiluted by sugar or milk.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, incredulous.

“Like you said, Santa came early,” you joked mildly.

“No, really,” he persisted, his tone reaching a bass you’d never heard from him before. “Where did you get this?”

You sat yourself on the desk next to him. “Shoko,” you admitted.

“What did she tell you?”

Your shrug was subtle.  “As much as she could.”

He continued to scrutinize the photo in his hands, his brows drawing together.

“Satoru,” you proceeded, hushed. “If it’s okay… I’d like it if you told me about it.”

He lowered the photo so that it no longer obstructed his view of you, but he didn’t take advantage of the space he gave himself; he kept staring at the photo as he spoke: “There’s not much to tell about. I was the strongest then and I’m the strongest now.”

You rested your hands on your lap and exhaled deeply. “That’s not what I mean,” you contested. 

It was as if he couldn’t hear you, continuing to stare vapidly into the photo as if somehow your sentence didn’t make it to his ears. But that was impossible; you’d said what you said, and the room was dead silent.

“I… I want you to tell me about him,” you clarified.

He shifted in his seat, finally looking away from the photo and up at you. “You mean… Geto Suguru?” he asked, as if there were any other ‘him’ in that photo. 

“Well… he’s the worst of all curse users,” he offered. He then shoved the photo back in your direction, a sudden grin straining itself on his face. “But it’s okay. He’s gone now.”

Ignoring his move, you asked, “Is it really okay?”

“I made sure of it,” he affirmed, impatiently nudging the paper at you.

He resumed his usual playful lilt. “Are you doubting me?” he tested.

“I don’t doubt you for a second–not in that sense. You’ve always been strong,” you reassured him. “But that’s exactly why I doubt you know how to be weak.”

He scoffed. “You think Gojo Satoru would know how to be weak?”

“No, I don’t. That’s my whole point,” you upheld firmly.

He folded his arms across his chest, his mocking tone sharpening: “Why would anyone want to know how to be weak?”

“Because even Gojo Satoru needs to realize he can’t just smile and laugh all the time,” you challenged, feeling heat rise up your neck.

His eyes darkened, seemingly into a navy blue, and his inflection further condescended: “There are a lot of things you don’t understand.”

“Satoru, how on earth am I supposed to understand?!” 

As your tone cut through, just as abruptly you pushed the desk behind you and dropped heavily to your feet.

“You’re right, I don't understand you,” you confessed frustratedly, pointing to yourself. “I don’t understand you at all. Because how could I possibly understand you? I can’t see your eyes, I can’t even get near you, and I’ve never seen you not smile.”

Your voice made gaps as your vocal cords threatened sobs. “And sure, I call you by your first name, and I laugh and I smile at all your dumb jokes and… and the idiotic games you play…

“But it’s–it’s… scary, Satoru. Creepy, even. How you know just about everything there is to know about me and yet… It's like I don’t even know who you are. You’re just a toy in the corner, watching everyone come in and out of the room, but I can never make you say or be or feel anything.”

“Feelings are what made him into who he was,” he stated coldly, his eyes fixed on the grimy floor. “It’s important for sorcerers to have a hold on their emotions.”

“So you know what happens, then,” you argued firmly, your shoes coming into his view as you stepped closer. “You know what it’s like to be shut out from them.”

You pushed his chin up, forcing him to witness the way you were holding on desperately to the tears that bordered your lower waterline.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Do you always get Sprite?” he’d asked, looking down as his friend retrieved his drink from the bottom of the machine.

“I mean… yeah, I guess,” Suguru replied plainly. “Why?”

A pit formed in his stomach as he heard the crack of the can opening.

“Shit. I’ve been getting you Coke this whole time,” he’d mumbled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Suguru shrugged, beginning to head in the direction of the classroom. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Dude, are you good?”

Suguru jolted awake, sitting up from the plush back of the couch and nearly spilling the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“Do you wanna watch something else?” he’d suggested, but Suguru just shook his head.

“I thought you liked Digimon,” Suguru objected.

“Well yeah, but…”

The only lighting came from the flashing screen, but it was enough for him to see his friend yawn, making his eyes water, dark bags underneath them.

“You can turn it up if you want,” was all Suguru had to say, but even after doing what Suguru said, he couldn’t focus on his favorite TV show.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything,” he started, reaching into his bag. “But here.”

“What’s this?” Suguru questioned.

“Your Christmas present, duh.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Suguru pointed out. “And I told you–”

“I know! But just open it.”

He watched as Suguru lifted the lid of the small gray box, revealing a small pair of white gauges.

“I didn’t really know what size to get… But I think they’d look cool on you.”

“Thanks, Satoru.”

He lit up, thinking that he’d finally done something right by his friend, but the way that Suguru looked up at him, the way Suguru smiled insincerely, told him he should’ve waited for Christmas Day.

The tears were warm as they rolled down his face, past his trembling lip and blooming into the blindfold that rested loosely around his neck.

“I just don't understand why he didn’t talk to me.”

You pulled him into a hug, carding your fingers in his hair as you rested his head on your shoulder.

“He thought I hated him,” he told you shakily, finding himself clutching onto your shirt. “I didn’t see him for ten years and… and that whole time he thought I hated him.”

He inhaled a sharp sniffle. “I… I don’t hate him,” he whimpered, his pitch jumping and his body beginning to tremble. “I don’t hate him, Y/N, I don’t, I don’t, I never, ever did.”

“I know,” you whispered, stroking his hair, holding him tighter as he jerked with sobs.

He placed his head on your shoulder, staring at the blindfold that had unraveled itself and fallen between you. “I hate myself.”

You pulled back, cupping his jawline and holding it in front of you.

“Don’t say that…”

“But he was my best friend, Y/N,” he insisted, gripping desperately onto your shoulders. “I saw him every single day… every single day, all of that was running through his head and I… I didn’t even know… I just watched and… and I made him think I hated him. I was supposed to be his best friend.”

“You did everything you could, Satoru.”

“It was all my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did it happen?” he whined. “It had to have been for a reason–It can't just hurt and be for no reason. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s not,” you told him, shaking your head gently and looking deeply into his eyes. “It’s not fair at all.”

Indicating the breaking of a dam, a deafening, siren-like wail pierced the air. His face was red and scrunched up, his nose was dripping with snot, and his hands were coming up to swipe desperately at the tears on his cheeks.

You pulled him close to you again as he kept hiccuping and sniffling into the crook of your neck. His loud weeping wet your shirt with both the fluids from his eyes and nose, but you didn’t care; you just rubbed his back, caressing him tenderly.

His voice was suddenly clearer as he took deep breaths to try and recuperate himself: “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Why are you sorry?” you asked, stiffening your hold on him.

“I just… I don’t know. I hate crying. I’m not a kid anymore, you know?” he tried laughing.

“Satoru,” you whispered delicately, turning your head so your words rested right by his ear. “You were never a kid.”

Gently, you pressed his head into you, stopping him from moving his lips in any way. “I want you to be one right now.”

You let him stay in your arms for a while until his tears subsided and his breathing steadied. You had moved to the floor at some point, allowing him to comfortably lean on you as you embraced him, his previous quivering replaced now by the calm rhythm of his rising and falling figure.

He hadn’t talked in a while, so you assumed he’d fallen asleep, but then, among his mellow breathing, a mumble came up right by your ear:

“Thank you,” he’d said.

Hugging him tighter, you patted him on the back softly. “Of course.”

As one hand traveled to intertwine its fingers in his hair, you reached for your phone with your other one.

You pressed the power button on its side, and flinched backward, squinting at the brightness your phone screen emitted. Despite your sudden movement, Satoru didn’t show any sort of reaction; he’d fallen asleep, for sure now.

You continued to comb through his white locks, a little more consciously now, as you made note of the time and date your phone’s clock displayed, changing right before your eyes:

December 25th, 00:00

You smiled, dragging your coat up to cover the both of you as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

***

might do a toji x megumi's teacher reader if u wanna follow

[aot-brainrot-my-beloved]

AOT Sexualities Headcanons (Part 1)

Since I have nothing better to do, here are my AOT characters' sexualities headcanons (it's my opinion, pls be nice, homophobes DNI)

Probably gonna do it in parts cause there are so many characters LMAO. Also, go and check out my previous [post] about it for context. So anyways without further ado

Part 1 - The Scouts under the cut

Eren - demiromantic demisexual

Eren doesn't usually fall for people and doesn't think about romance, but when he does, he falls hard. He doesn't care about gender, he just needs to feel a really close connection to someone to feel anything. Also, he's famously oblivious to flirtations towards him, which is a popular inside joke among Scouts.

Mikasa - unlabeled

She’s very much Erensexual and that’s it LMAO But jokes aside, she really doesn't care and doesn't see a reason in labeling herself (not that it's a bad thing, she just feels like no name would ever truly fit her). What matters to her are her feelings for Eren and all her closest friends and that's enough.

Armin - pansexual

He doesn’t mind in general but he has a problem recognizing his feelings as something more than a friendship or admiration. He acts friendly and normal and then BOOM, that one special spark and, out of nowhere he’s an awkward ball of fluff. I feel like he just wants someone to talk to about the ocean and who will make him feel seen and safe <3

Jean - (closeted) bisexual

Marco was totally his bisexual awakening. Even though he knows nobody in the Scout Regiment will judge him, he's still scared to come out and every time someone asks him, he's very defensive about being straight (nobody believes him) (just look at him, very much chaotic bisexual icon 💅)

Sasha - heteroromantic asexual

Probably an unpopular opinion but I really don’t see her being into girls. I feel like the Scouts were initially surprised about it after seeing her being so close with Mikasa, but they are just besties. She’s sex-repulsed but will laugh at Connie’s dirty jokes. She’s a hopeless romantic though. She and Connie are platonic soulmates <3

Connie - aromantic asexual ❤️

He never got the appeal of romance or sex, and when someone was flirting with him, he felt really uncomfortable. His friends (especially Sasha) have helped him understand and come to terms with his feelings. He's also sex-repulsed but that doesn’t stop him from telling dirty jokes to others. He and Sasha are platonic soulmates <3

Marco - gay

I have nothing else to say other than the fact that I could never see him in any other way. The gay vibes are very strong with this one (just look at how he looks at Jean!!!)

Ymir - lesbian

She knew she was "different" since she was young, but had to hide it very well. Time spent on Paradis with her friends was the best time in her life because she could finally be her authentic self, without having to deal with homophobia and all the religious trauma, but also because she met the love of her life!

Historia - lesbian

I feel like at first she thought she was straight and then she met Ymir and truly realized something about herself. After that, she was proud of her sexuality, until she became the queen and realized how important her role was. Pregnancy was a hard time for her, especially knowing that Ymir was gone. But to not make it too sad I like to think that her husband was an understanding guy and tried to help as much as he could, while still understanding that he will never be the one and only for her 💔

[kraeki]

what do you find intriguing about domi and robbo and how would you describe their dynamic

I’m so sorry for answering you so late! The thing is that you asked an interesting question and I didn’t want to answer quickly but then I forgot about the ask and then I only ever remembered it when I didn’t have time to answer 😭 I don’t even remember under what post I mentioned that I found them intriguing 😅 Anyway!! Warning, long and unedited ramblings ahead:

Well most of what I find intriguing about them is the potential they have for fictional interpretation. So my answer is based on that, not what I believe is the truth about their dynamic. I just think that Dominik is a very heart on your sleeve, earnest loverboy. While Andy maybe hides more under a loud shell. And that this makes for an interesting mix!

Last year, during DomiTrent autumn, it was almost a running joke how Trent was always with Domi and Andy was somewhere depressed in the background. I thought it was a fun bit and never thought that Trent had actually replaced Andy with Dom (and hate them being pitted against each other! Trent can have more than one friend!!!) but it can be used to let our imaginations run wild. Maybe Domi tried to be Andy’s friend too but Andy was so caught up in self pity over Trent replacing him that he didn’t like Dom. I like picturing Dom earnestly trying to be friends and Andy interpreting it badly, like Dom taunting him or something. In one Inside Training from that time Dom asked to be Andy’s partner in training and Andy said “no, you talk too much” as a joke but well… was it?

Then Andy gets badly injured, he talked about how hard it was to not be part of the team for that period. How he missed hanging out with them at Kirkby because he had a different schedule. Our fictional Andy could’ve felt extra alone in the world, watching from afar as Dom and Trent giggle at each other.

But then! Dom gets injured too! So they could be forced to be together, both sulking from their injuries. Maybe a bit raw. Maybe some walls are broken?

Fast forward a bit after Andy, Dom and Trent all are finally in a match day squad together again after their injuries. And they all warm up together as a trio when Dom and Trent as a duo had been shooting long balls at each other to warm up for almost the whole first part of the season. But now, for every match, doesn’t matter if they are all starting or not, they do their little trio warm up. And I think it has cute implications! We never see sad Robbo in the background of DomiTrent anymore. The dynamics are more even now.

Then the Euros happen and they both captain their teams and have disappointing Euros and they even meet each other in both of their teams’ last game. Dom’s team ruining any hope Andy’s team might have had. Drama! But also, they can relate a lot I think. And then at the same time their common factor, Trent, was busy making heart eyes at Jude for a whole summer.

And now at the beginning of pre season, they were there before Trent and I love that they did media together there as well! Something about them interacting without Trent pleases me. The notion of their relationship growing independently and beyond their glue (Trent) is fun. Our fictional Andy realising that this manchild is actually not so bad. Dom not being insecure anymore over Andy being Trent’s old and established friend that would always eclipse the newbie Dom. Trent, the princess he is, not always being the centre of the universe. The other sides of the triangle should touch too!

Ok I’m done! Once I started it was difficult to stop lmao but as you can see I stuck to their fictional dynamic. For their “real” dynamic, I still think they have an interesting mix of personalities and it really is possible that Trent being their mutual friend made them closer than they otherwise would have been. Then they are both captains of their small(ish) national teams and they did have an interesting Euros story. I will at least be watching them with interest this season both for fictional headcanon reasons and not 😁

P.S. They are also both dog coded but in different ways! Different breeds I suppose 😭 (Trent is a cat)