#DUDE CAN I SPELL BUY

[georgelore]

most allergy medicine is sold over the counter and if he went to a doctor for a suspected cat allergy theyd just tell him to buy allergy medicine at a grocery store or amazon anyways probably tbh

ok ok i guess that makes sense

[dravidious]

There's this really janky card from way back in MTG's history called Ertai's Meddling

Nowadays, this wording just does not work within the rules, so its official text ("oracle text") has been updated to say this:

"X can't be 0.

Target spell's controller exiles it with X delay counters on it.

At the beginning of each of that player's upkeeps, if that card is exiled, remove a delay counter from it. If the card has no delay counters on it, the player puts it onto the stack as a copy of the original spell."

Much more modern and rules-friendly. However, on the card's official gatherer discussion page, there's one particular comment that is absolutely... Amazing? Infuriating? Dumb, let's go with dumb. You don't have to read all of it, mainly just the first three lines, but here it is:

There's a million ways to dissect this awful comment, discussions to be had about the history of the game's rules, and how tournament play works, and erratta, and that one time they forgot to print "until end of turn" on a spell, and the fact that nowhere on the original text does it actually specify that the spell doesn't resolve normally, but the funniest thing about the idea of "it stays on the stack" is that, even if you assume the card works exactly as written and does what it's supposed to...

Here's the rules regarding when you're allowed to cast a noninstant spell, straight from the comprehensive rules (important part in red):

117.1a A player may cast an instant spell any time they have priority. A player may cast a noninstant spell during their main phase any time they have priority and the stack is empty.

No matter how you look at Ertai's Meddling's text, it certainly doesn't create an exception to this rule, which means that, as written, no player can play noninstant spells while a spell is delayed with Ertai's Meddling. There's a similar rule for playing lands, so the game just kind of grinds to a halt. If you want to be SUPER literal about it, the game's turn structure can't even progress unless the stack is empty:

500.2. A phase or step in which players receive priority ends when the stack is empty and all players pass in succession.

So yeah. Go ahead and play with the printed text. Come up with all your clever combos and interactions that technically work. But just remember that when you play with technicalities, you play with ALL the technicalities.

[potpiehead]

I don't want to be annoying on a more or less good post but if u don't already own salt and flour that's kind of a personal problem

[andersonfilms]

firefighter!abby who comes in every sunday morning to your floral shop, tucked in a tiny corner downtown. you’re usually tucked away in the back, doing floral arrangements, calculating your inventory, organizing new shipments, or just avoiding others in general. an introverted nature is ingrained into your bones. so, dina takes over the front counter. she’s sweet, kind enough to engage in conversation. big brown eyes and welcoming smile always seeming to put the customer’s at ease, assessing their needs as they step foot in the door. 

firefighter!abby who comes in on the dot, half-past nine, right before her shift. her build, incredibly tone, clad in black cargos and her seattle fire department t-shirt tucked in. she greets dina with her blinding, pearly white smile. warming her up to the core as dina grabs the assortment that’s ordered every week. yellow roses, white lillies, and peach carnations make their way into the abby’s hands. she thanks dina, with the same somber look in her eyes before she exits with the same bouquet she always does. 

firefighter!abby who is out for the day, cup of coffee in her hand, ellie to her right telling her about the black-haired beauty she met at the local pub. swearing up and down there was a cute friend, supposedly, but it really just sounds like this is her only way in which her friend needs to enlist help from the hunky-blonde for assistance. 

“So, let me get this straight. You met this girl—” 

“Dina.” Abby pauses, blonde eyebrows quirk upwards. “Wait, does she work at a floral shop?” 

“Yes—” Ellie pauses, envy swirling in her emerald eyes immediately, “Fuck, Anderson, do not tell me you’ve fucked her!” 

Abby smirks, wanting to tease her spunky friend. “C’mon, are you fucking serious? No. Shit. Did you really fuck her?” Abby winks as she takes a sip of her black coffee, bicep flexing in the process. 

“Dude. How the hell am I supposed to compete with your greek god  fucking biceps?” Ellie lifts up the sleeve of her shirt, comparing her much smaller arms to Abby’s very toned and thick muscle. Even Abby’s veins are more prominent than hers. 

Abby giggles, “First off, you can’t but you don’t have to…this time. I just buy flowers from there and everyone kinda knows everyone. It’s Jackson.” 

“Oh, thank god. You had me worried there for a second. Jesus.” Ellie nudges her shoulder, picking at her naibeds anxiously. “So, will you come so you can meet her friend?” 

Abby thinks for a moment. How bad could it be? It’s just one night, right? 

firefighter!abby who comes to the flower shop on a saturday this time. the doorbell rings signaling her entrance, but she doesn’t find dina working the counter like she normally does. you’re someone new, someone she hasn’t seen before, someone beautiful. so much so, she feels as if her feet have been glued to the hardwood floors. dear god, she looks like a goddamn idiot. she’s thankful you’re helping someone as abby tries to break from her caulking spell. 

firefighter!abby who takes note of how attentive you are with the customers even if your body fidgets as you help them but then you smile, it makes her melt. anderson, get yourself together, you have a date tonight. it’s just one, incredibly beautiful girl. you’re fine. she’s fine. before her brain can make one more stupid thought, you’re walking up to her. 

You smell of lavender, it coats Abby’s senses as you make a beeline for her. It could be the shop or it could be you. She believes it’s you. 

“Afternoon, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, Abby reads the name tag on your chest and musters up somewhat of a coherent sentence. You start making the arrangement for her, it’s then she notices how familiar it is. 

It isn’t the flowers she typically chooses, the one she orders through the website of the shop, but the craftsmanship is identical. Down to the yellow ribbon to wrap it neatly, keeping the specially made bouquet in place. 

Abby’s blue eyes must light up with wonder because you smile, it's soft as it slips out of you, too quick for you to hide behind the wall you usually keep yourself within. 

“Um, you make all the arrangements here, right?” Anxiously, you dust your hands on the maroon apron tied around your waist. 

“Yeah, I would hope so. It’s my shop.” You’re not boastful about it, or snarky, it’s sweet. As if you’re proud and you should be. 

“Oh, sorry! I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. I just, um—” Speak blondie, you’re making a fool of yourself. “ I come here every week and have just never seen you before s’all. It’s nice to match the wonderful shop to the even prettier owner.” 

Abby wonders why she doesn’t ask for your number or even try to. She’s not exactly a stranger to beautiful women. When she knows what she wants, she’s like a dog with a bone. Never has she ever halted, or had someone stop her dead in her tracks without even trying. 

In her mind, she’s finding excuses. It’s the sun’s fault for letting the light hit your eyes perfectly, saturating the color even further. Or the way she obsesses over your curves, or the joy seeming to radiate every time you smile. 

It can’t be any of those little things. 

Abby fishes for the wallet in her jacket pocket, before handing you her card, you finalize the transaction before handing the silver card back to her. Calloused fingertips press against yours, much softer than Abby’s, but it excites the two of you. 

Not that either of you spoke a word of it. 

“You’re girlfriend’s a lucky girl. It’s a thoughtful gesture—” but your eyes build a fright in them, a horror that you can’t take back. “I’m sorry! Oh my god. I didn’t mean to just, fuck, assume you had a girlfriend or that you’re into girls. Jesus, I don’t know what came over me. God.” 

Abby bites down a smirk as you anxiously beat your nail on the countertop as if you ruined the interaction. Impatiently needing this to be over. 

“S’okay, really, you didn’t assume wrong.” Mischievous pools of blue look you up and down, pointed canines kissing her pink lips as they bite at the flesh. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend. Well—” Abby leans over placing her palm against yours, her fingertips linger on your skin, setting it ablaze. Releasing your grip of the bouquet and palming the wrapped flowers in her firm grasp.

“Not yet.” 

lmk what you think! hope you enjoyed it! ♡

[hp-hcs]

i didn’t realize the riddle brothers were a "buy one get one free" type of deal, but alright — simp! overprotective! yandere! riddle brothers x gn! oblivious! bullied! slytherin! reader

requested by 🎀!

2.5k words, not to brag 😌

i love writing the bros’ interactions with each other as like, actual sibling-core yk? they r just so cutie patootie

the reader's patronus makes an appearance in this, but i tried to make it as accessible to everyone as possible, so it's never explicitly stated what animal it is. it is implied that it’s able-to-fit-under-a-table sized though

also this is totally just pre-slash nothing that interesting happens

warnings: couple mentions of blood, mild descriptions of wounds, implied violence, implied bullying, murder

not edited!! this is my first like, really long fic so constructive criticism is welcome!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A well-timed shove to the small of your back sent you tumbling down an entire flight of moving stairs. 

You groaned as you hit the bottom, sprawled out on your back on the cold stone floor. You laid there for a moment, winded. You could hear the occupants of a nearby painting titter at your gracefulness (or lack thereof), so you rolled your head to the other side to give them an award winning smile and an unabashed middle finger. 

You could hear them all grumble about kids these days and how I never would’ve treated my elders this way. You just rolled your eyes at their pettiness. 

“Uh…what are you doing?” A decidedly alive voice interrupted your momentary satisfaction.

“Ah- evening, Riddle!” You said cheerily as soon as you recognized the speaker, scrambling to your feet and dusting off your uniform. “Nothing! Just…tripped. Couldn’t see very well in the dark, that’s all.”

Tom blinked, his lips twisted into a frown. “.....Fine. But don’t let me catch you out of bed past curfew again. You’re a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Act like it.”

And that was it. Tom turned on his heel and continued down the hall without another word. Tom Riddle: prefect, teacher’s pet, and obnoxious hardass extraordinaire—he just...let you go, with no threats of detention or loss of house points. 

Huh. 

~~~

Tom, having just returned from a full night’s shift of prefect hall duty, flopped face-down onto his bed, his cheeks aflame as he let out a muffled shriek into his pillow. 

His brother, in the process of getting dressed for the day, paused at the scene in front of him. 

“Dude, what’s your deal?” 

“L/n,” Tom said by way of explanation, kicking his feet as he shrieked into his pillow again. “They acknowledged me. And they know my last name.”

“Most people know our last name, Tom,” Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“No- you don’t understand,” Tom said emphatically. “L/n is like…the cutest person to ever exist. And they’re so sweet, and smart, and funny, and-”

“And terrified of us?”

“Well…”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “You talk about them too much. It’s getting insufferable.”

Tom just scowled and flicked his fingers to cast a wandless spell that straightened Mattheo’s tie and neatened his uniform. “The way you dress is insufferable. Slob.”

Mattheo stuck out his tongue at his brother before ruffling Tom’s hair to purposely mess it up. “Dick.”

“Idiot.”

~~~

Mattheo glanced up at you as you hovered uncertainly by the corner of his desk. 

“Can I sit here…?” You mumbled shyly, your cheeks flushing as the pretty dark-haired boy in your year smiled up at you.

“Course!” He grinned brightly before realizing that might have been too enthusiastic of a reply for eight in the morning and quickly tried to cover up his slip. “Uh…Y/n, right? I’m Mattheo.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped.

Fuck, that’s not good.

“You let me copy your homework in third year for that essay on the properties of wormwood, or whatever.” You said offhandedly, like it wasn’t batshit insane to remember that pointlessly tiny detail. “Thank you for that, by the way. Potions sucks ass.”

Before Mattheo could even think, the words left his mouth. “I could tutor you if you want.”

You looked at him oddly, but grinned after a second. “Yeah, sure. That’d actually be really helpful. Snape hates me, man.”

“Really? Even though you’re in Slytherin?”

“Mhm, his baseless nepotism only extends so far.”

Mattheo barked out a startled laugh as your deadpan humor caught him off guard. You just grinned at him in response, causing the tips of his ears to immediately burn bright red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Um…do you wanna meet in the library after school today? For our tutoring session,” Mattheo hurriedly added. 

“Sure, alright.” You shrugged. “See you there.”

He beamed, giving you that stupidly adorable grin once more. “Awesome! Yeah- yeah, cool. Awesome. See you there then.”

~~~

You were still shit at potions.

It had been six weeks of tutoring, and you’d learned pretty much nothing. Although, that wasn’t an issue on Mattheo’s part, but rather on his annoyingly hot older brother’s. 

Tom Riddle was surprisingly funny. For someone who gave off almost exclusively stoically austere bastard vibes, he enjoyed cracking jokes and enlisting your help in pulling pranks on his brother a bit too much.

It became your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school, you would meet the two brothers in the library, waste like three hours joking around and getting absolutely no work done, and then going back to your dorm and ranting to your roommate about how fucking cute they are and how you would gladly pay for the opportunity to make out with one- no, both of them. 

(Your roommate is so fucking tired of hearing about the Riddles. You’d better buy them a latte and a cake-pop as an apology.)

~~~

You struggled to get up, your legs giving out. You cursed under your breath, putting a hand to your forehead as it throbbed in pain. 

It came away sticky with blood. 

This wasn’t going to work, you realized belatedly. With what remained of your strength, you were able to reach out and grab your wand, murmuring a quiet, “Expecto Patronum.”

A spectral creature formed in front of your eyes, remaining motionless as it stared at you. 

“Go find Riddle,” you mumbled to the Patronus, your eyelids growing heavy. 

You barely registered the wispy glowing animal immediately bounding off at your instructions, your vision doubling before your body went completely slack, the wand slipping from your fingers and hitting the tile floor with a clatter. 

~~~

Mattheo doodled mindlessly in the margins of his parchment as his brother droned on and on about the properties of willow bark in potions and really, this is important, Mattheo. Pay attention.

“Why isn’t Y/n here yet?” Mattheo asked his brother for the third time. 

Tom rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Matt. Just like how I didn't know when you asked me five minutes ago. Maybe they just don’t want to see your stupid face any more, huh?”

“What if they’re in trouble? Or hurt?” Mattheo worried, chewing on his thumbnail and ignoring his brother’s insult. “They’re never late, Tommy.”

Tom wrinkled his nose at the use of the dumb (albeit endearing) nickname Mattheo gave him when they were children, but the sinking feeling in his gut at hearing his brother’s distressed tone didn’t help to ease the niggling worries at the back of his mind of maybe they are in trouble.

As if on cue, Mattheo shivered as something icy cold brushed against his ankles. He glanced down. A glowing spectral creature nudged his leg, looking up at him expectantly with unnervingly empty eyes. 

A Patronus. 

Y/n’s Patronus.

~~~

They followed the Patronus down the deserted hall, the animal occasionally pausing to make sure the boys were both still following it before bounding forward again.

The Patronus stopped in front of a bathroom door, giving them both that same unnervingly hollow-eyed stare of expectancy.

Tom gulped and pushed open the door, fearing that he might find the worst.

He did.

~~~

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you winced at the multitude of stinging and stabbing pains that wracked your body.

You had to blink a couple times for everything to come into focus. You were in a small room with white walls and white flooring, and the gentle dawn illuminated the quiet space with soft rays of light. The steady beep of a vitals monitor faded into the background as you stared down at yourself.

You weren’t wearing a shirt, for one, or even a hospital gown. Pretty much your entire upper torso was wrapped in bloodstained gauze. The jagged edges of a brutal slash across your chest peeked out of the top of the dressings, and you had to close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment to keep from throwing up. Once you’d calmed back down, you opened your eyes, startled to see that you weren’t alone.

Mattheo had pulled up a chair to the side of your hospital bed and crossed his arms on the mattress, using them as a makeshift pillow. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, his breaths slow and even. He looked so peaceful and...unguarded in his sleep. You reached down to brush a loose curl away from his forehead.

“Having fun?”

You startled, jerking your hand back. 

Tom leaned against the doorframe of your room with an amused expression, quirking an eyebrow and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

“Shut up,” you hissed back in a whisper, your cheeks flaring red. 

Tom’s amused grin only grew at your dark blush as he invited himself into your room fully, closing the door behind him.

 “Your secret’s safe with me.” He jokingly winked, tapping the side of his nose.

“You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What am I doing here?” You quickly changed topics, refusing to even look down in Mattheo’s direction. 

Tom sighed, any amusement on his face rapidly vanishing. “You sent us a Patronus, thank Merlin. Pomfrey said you would’ve bled out if you hadn’t.”

You had no memory of casting the Patronus charm at all, but you trusted Tom’s recollection of events better than your own jumbled and spotty one. “Bled out?” You questioned, your heart hammering in your throat as your voice climbed an octave in anxiety.

Tom nodded, his face carefully schooled into a blank and neutral expression. “You were hit with the Sectumsempra spell. You've been out for three days now.”

Your brow furrowed. “Malfoy got hit with that last year though—and was in and out of the infirmary in less than a day.”

“Snape knew the counterspell and found ‘im just in time last year,” Mattheo mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed as he tuned into the conversation at hand. “But whoever hit you with it just left you there to die.”

“Charming.” You mutter under your breath.

“Regardless of what happened in Malfoy’s instance,” Tom interrupted briskly. “You were on the brink of literal death. So I’ll ask you this one time and one time only. Who did it, Y/n?”

~~~

“I brought you a cookie from the Great Hall,” Mattheo grinned widely, climbing into your hospital bed next to you and unwrapping the napkin in his hand. “And the notes from today’s Charms lesson, but those’re boring and we both know you won’t actually read ‘em.”

“Aww, you know me so well.” You teased, breaking the cookie in half and handing him one of the pieces.

Mattheo cupped the cookie fragment in his hands like it was a priceless treasure, staring down at it in unrestrained awe. 

You just shook your head at his antics and brushed the odd reaction off.

~~~

You woke up this morning and just felt like shit. You were nauseous, and dizzy, and felt borderline faint. Tom’s voice, usually soothing and comforting to hear, sounded like nails on a chalkboard right now. He rambled on and on about the delicate process of making the temperamental Felix Felicis potion. 

“Tom,” you interrupted, your voice scratchy and quiet. “Can we take a break? Please?”

He blinked, surprised at being interrupted, but nodded slowly. “I suppose…? Why?”

“Don’t feel good,” you mumbled, setting your textbook down and rubbing your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Madame Pomfrey said brusquely as she bustled around your hospital room, shooing Tom out of the way to stand by your bedside. 

(Poppy Pomfrey remains the only person who can and has shooed Tom Riddle III and lived to tell the tale—and all without a single ounce of fear.)

“I’ve raised your dosage so that you can be out of here in time for your N.E.W.T.s.” Pomfrey elaborated upon seeing your confused look.

“Fantastic.” You mumbled dryly, grinning sleepily up at Tom as he grabbed onto your hand and interlaced your fingers together. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat in favor of letting you hold his sweaty palm.

“Go to sleep, L/n,” Tom muttered under his breath. “Potions can wait.”

~~~

Tom lay in your hospital bed beside you, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Please? We promise we won’t do anything.”

“Yeah,” Mattheo chimed in from the other side of your crowded bed, one arm tossed over your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Or at least, nothing we’ll get caught for.”

You sigh, tired of their ceaseless pleading. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll tell you who it was.”

Both boys leaned in close.

You sigh again and roll your eyes at their overprotectiveness. “Alright, it was-”

~~~

Tucker Thompson and Devin Dobbs: Gryffindor Sixth Years Found MURDERED at Hogwarts! Dumbledore: “No comment at this time.”

You tilted the newspaper so Madame Pomfrey could read the article over your shoulder as she replaced your IV bag. 

Pomfrey just sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how Skeeter is still employed at the Prophet.”

“Cause shock value will always hold weight in the media?” You answered dryly around a mouthful of depressingly plain infirmary wing toast. “And Skeeter’s good at nothing if not coming up with bullshit shock value titles.”

“That may be true,” she began, snatching the paper from your hands. “But patients shouldn’t be reading about such dark subjects, and certainly not while under my care. And don’t talk while eating. I rather like your company, and would hate to see you choke.”

You rolled your eyes at her suffocatingly motherly behavior. “So are they? Thompson and Dobbs; they’re really dead?”

Madame Pomfrey hesitated.

You let out a relieved breath of air that you tried (and failed) to hide behind a cough. “That’s…terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied you for a long moment, her fingers mindlessly worrying the deckle edge of the newspaper in her hands. “It was them, wasn’t it? Your boys.”

“My boys?”

“Yes, yes, Riddles one and two. Your boys.”

“Oh- we’re not…”

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips as she tried to hold back a laugh at the utter obliviousness of teenagers. “Do they know that, dear?”

You spluttered out a half-assed rebuke to her statement, but Pomfrey quickly interrupted you.

“They’ve been staying here for hours every day for the last month. They want more than just your friendship, hon.”

“No way. We’re just friends.” You insisted firmly. “That’s all.”

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Friends. Keep telling yourself that.”

You stared after her, open-mouthed in bafflement, as she rolled up the Prophet, tucked it under her arm, and turned around without another word—leaving you with zero reading material and a million questions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you have to love how pomfrey could not give less of a fuck that the riddles murdered two students as long as she gets her ot3 absolutely iconic behavior

[oinkinpigprince]

OKAY. I love the way you depict Charlie sm. I WAS POSSIBLY WONDERING if you could do a Charlie x VeryObvioslyIntoHim! Reader HCs? (Also pref that the reader is Fem and Chubby cause yeah) Thanks pookie ✌️🥺🥶🔥💯

Of course!! I find your use of emojis disturbing, but I suppose I can look past it this once :33

Charlie x VERY into him!fem!reader

He’s so oblivious to ppl liking him it’s INFURIATING SOMETIMES. Every time someone flirts with him to goes, whoosh! Over his head. It might be a self esteem thing or a childhood thing or bro is just dense in the head

All of your friends know you like Charlie, all of Charlie’s friends know, all of his coworkers know, it’s literally everyone BUUT him

You try and drop subtle hints that just became more and more and more obvious as time went on. Til you were dropping absolute bombshells on Charlie, but nothing

“Charlie you’d make like, a REALLY good boyfriend ya know. You’re probably even MY DREAM man, ya know ANY girl would be lucky to have you as her boyfriend. Ya know ID be honored to date you even!” “Aw thnxs man you’re like, literally so sweet.” One of these days you swear to fucking god

You gave him a bouquet of roses on Valentine’s Day and he just said “oh that’s so nice of you man but I got like major pollen allergies.” He forgot what day it was

It’s infuriating, like genuinely gut wrenching at some points. You don’t want to give up though, not yet at least. You start trying other methods instead of flirting

You buy him food, gifts, a whole new pair of gaming headphones he’s been talking about none stop. You get a fucking ‘dude, you’re literally the coolest girl I know’

Once you offered to clean his entire apartment, because he seemed stressed out. He was so thankful but you still got ‘dude’ zoned

You even tried cuddling with him, during a home movie. He held you in his arms and thought nothing of it. Just kept going on and on about ‘the in-depth character arc’ of some movie guy you didn’t care about

It wasn’t until you looked him in the eyes and literally said “I want to kiss so fucking bad right now.” That it finally clicked for Charlie that you MIIIGHT have a crush on him but all he could stutter out was “I-i think I have a bag of like, chocolate in my freezer.”

After that night you kinda gave up, thinking that maybe YOU weren’t getting his hints. I mean what guy wouldn’t understand that was an profession of love

Charlie actually told Pim about it at work the next day, and was like “do you think she likes me dude?” Glep and alan both stop what they were doing and just stare at him. Pim has his hands folded on the table trying to figure out if Charlie was fuckin w/ him too

“What?” “Charlie, she literally said she wanted to kiss.” “. . . Yeah and?” Bro needs to learn the alphabet before he can begin to spell it out man it’s bad. Once it clicks it fucking snapped into place and he rushed to give you a call

[pinknatural]

Pick out the biggest, reddest, juiciest strawberries. Wash ‘em real good. Lay them out on a tray covered in parchment paper. Pat them dry, and leave them out. Put some chocolate chips in a bowl, and microwave in 30 second intervals. After the chocolate is good and melted, pick up the strawberries by the stem and dip them in, coating them thoroughly before putting them back on the tray. 

Dean’s never made chocolate-covered strawberries before. Never had a reason to. It’s kinda nice, to dedicate all his focus to making sure the chocolate is covering up the berries evenly. To try not to get them to drip. 

Since moving into the Bunker, Dean’s found that baking is fun. He likes putting a bunch of stuff together and seeing delicious results. And chocolate-covered strawberries aren’t exactly rocket science, but he knows they’ll taste good and make Sammy happy and that’s all he really wants, right?

Plus, he thinks, gently placing another strawberry back on the parchment paper. He doesn’t think Jack has ever had a chocolate-covered strawberry before, and he can just picture the kid’s excited eyebrows at the taste. 

He picks up another strawberry, pinching all the leaves between his fingers so they don’t get chocolatey. He dips it nice and slow into the glass bowl, turning it gently as he brings it out of the chocolate.

“What are you doing?” 

Dean yelps, nearly dropping his strawberry. 

“Jesus christ, Cas, you snuck up on me!” he says, turning to glare over his shoulder. Cas is standing just behind him, staring curiously. He could’ve been there for two minutes or twenty. Dean didn’t even know he was in the Bunker, let alone the kitchen. “I’m not kidding about that bell, dude.”

“Apologies,” Cas says. He doesn’t sound a bit sorry at all. Dean rolls his eyes and turns back to his strawberry, putting it on the tray next to the other completed ones. Cas moves in closer. “What is the purpose of this exercise?”

“Chocolate-covered strawberries,” Dean says. 

“I see that,” Cas says. He sniffs, as if the smell disagrees with him. “But why are you covering the strawberries in the chocolate? Is it for a spell?”

“No, it’s a dessert. Like a candy, I guess,” Dean says. “For Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah, yes,” Cas says. “Unattached drifter Christmas.”

Something in Dean’s heart stabs, at that. He hates that Cas has heard him say that, or heard Sam reference it, or whatever. 

“Yeah,” he says, looking away from Cas’ eyes. The strawberries are safer to look at. “I guess.”

Cas’ big hands enter Dean’s field of view, and he plucks up a strawberry. Not one with chocolate on it. A naked one. Despite himself, Dean looks back up at Cas. It’s hard to not look at him. He has a very nice face.

“What does chocolate strawberries have to with the patron saint of bees?” 

“Bees?”

“And epilepsy,” Cas says, squinting at the strawberry. “And the mentally ill. And happy marriages.”

“Uh, it’s more about the happy marriages thing,” Dean says. “Valentine’s Day is about love and shit.”

“And strawberries,” Cas says, nodding wisely, as if he understands everything. He sets the strawberry back on the tray. Dean’s not sure if he’s fucking with him or not. Surely after all this time on earth, Cas knows what fucking Valentine’s Day is. 

“You give the strawberries to your Valentine,” Dean says. “Or chocolate or whatever. Or those fucking disgusting chalky heart things. But Eileen loves chocolate-covered strawberries and so these are for Sam. To give to her.”

Dean told Sam to make his own chocolate-covered strawberries, but Sam said that either Dean could make them or he would buy some from the store. And Dean does not trust fucking Hy-Vee to have quality chocolate-covered strawberries. He picks up Cas’ naked strawberry--the last one--and dips it into the chocolate. 

“That’s very kind of you,” Cas says, watching him. “To help Sam out.”

“Whatever,” Dean mutters, holding the strawberry up so the excess chocolate can drip back into the bowl. “I wanted Jack to try some, too.”

“You say that like it will make me think you less kind,” Cas says. Dean is tempted to throw him out of the kitchen. But goddamnit, he likes Cas and likes when Cas hangs out with him and asks stupid questions about Valentine’s Day. But knows that Saint Valentine is the patron saint of epilepsy, or whatever. Ugh. 

Dean never knows when Cas is leaving, anyway, so he’s gotta take all the time he can get. He leaves his strawberries behind and fetches another glass bowl. The white chocolate chips are already out, beside the opened bag of regular chocolate chips. 

“I thought you said white chocolate was an abomination,” Cas says, watching Dean pour some into the bowl. 

“It is,” Dean says. “But it will look fancier this way, trust me.” He puts the bowl in the microwave, punches in a 3-0-enter then turns around to look at Cas. He’s inspecting the neat line of chocolate-covered strawberries. They’re a little messier than Dean wants, but hell, it’s his very first try. 

“I don’t understand why you would put the chocolate on the strawberries,” Cas says. “My understanding is that strawberries are perfectly good on their own.”

“Dude, bacon is perfectly good on its own and we put chocolate on that,” Dean says. He crosses back to the counter and picks up a strawberry by the stem, holds it out to Cas. “Go on, try it.”

He expects Cas to take the strawberry from him--chocolate end first, and then he’ll get chocolate all over his fingers and Dean will die a million deaths watching him lick the chocolate off. Instead, Cas does something a thousand times worse and leans forward, biting into the strawberry without taking it, like Dean’s feeding it to him or some shit. 

Dean has a vision of a picnic somewhere, red and white checkered blanket and all. The sky is blue and the grass is soft and Cas’ head is in Dean’s lap and Dean’s feeding him strawberries and kissing him between each one. 

But instead Cas just--doesn’t break eye contact. Just stares, as he bites into the strawberry, chews and swallows. 

“Good?” Dean says, mouth dry. 

Cas closes his eyes, licking his lips. “Mmm, very.” He straightens back up. Even though he licked his lips, he missed a little--has a chocolate mustache. Dean has the insane urge to lick it right off his face. 

“Uh, you got some--chocolate,” Dean croaks instead. He mimes with his own thumb. Cas swipes the chocolate and succeeds in smearing it everywhere. 

“Did I get it?” he asks, and his wide blue eyes hypnotize Dean into reaching forward and wiping the chocolate off Cas’ face with his own fingers. Then Dean licks the chocolate off his thumb. 

Then Dean realizes that the microwave is beeping and the white chocolate’s first 30 seconds have been up for a long time, and he should probably go get that, and he escapes across the kitchen. 

“The strawberry molecules and chocolate molecules are very pleasing together,” Cas says. “Do humans put chocolate on other fruits?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, stirring the white chocolate frantically. If he doesn’t look at Cas maybe Cas will think that what just happened was normal, and that Dean isn’t fucking insane. “Uh, apples, bananas, pineapples. I think I saw it on kiwi once. Uh, maybe orange slices.”

“Fascinating,” Cas says. Dean puts the white chocolate back into the microwave. “Yes, I think Jack would like that very much.”

“Good,” Dean says. He goes to the fridge, gets a beer. Opens it on the side of the counter and takes a big swig. The microwave beeps.

It’s all melted. Dean grabs a spoon and goes over to the berries. He is not confident about this part at all, but crazyforcrust.com said to use a spoon. And hopefully he can get, like four or five good-looking ones for Sam, and the rest can be for him to pig out on on the fourteenth alone in his room while he tries not to wonder where Cas is. 

He dips the spoon into the white chocolate and covers it, then raises it over a strawberry and zig-zags over it, letting the white chocolate drip and drizzle overtop.

“See?” Dean says to Cas, who he knows is watching. “You can hardly taste the white chocolate this way but it looks good.” Well, it doesn’t look bad. Dean’s sure they’ll look better as he goes.

“I see,” Cas says. He points to the drizzled strawberry. “Are you giving that one to Sam?”

“No,” Dean says. “That one was just a practice one.”

“Good,” Cas says, and he picks up the strawberry by the stem. Dean’s never, ever seen him go for seconds before, but he makes a mental note of it. But then Cas turns the strawberry around, unmistakably offering it to Dean. “You should have one. You made them.”

“But--” Dean starts to say, and then Cas brings it up, so it nearly touches Dean’s lips. He looks at him with the same kind of focus he gives to a hunt, or smiting demons. 

“Eat it,” he says, nudging Dean’s lips with the fruit. Dean opens his mouth and bites into it. Maybe Dean would lay his head on Cas’ lap in their picnic, and Cas would feed Dean. 

The strawberry is good, probably. Dean’s not really sure what it tastes like. All he can see are Cas’ eyes, boring into his. 

Dean swallows. 

“You don’t have any chocolate on your face,” Cas says. He sounds disappointed. Dean can’t unpack that. 

“That’s ‘cause the chocolate is less melty,” Dean says, mostly on autopilot. He feels a million miles away. “Cause it’s starting to harden.”

“Okay,” Cas says. “Can I help with the drizzle?”

“Oh,” Dean says, shaken out of some kind of trance. “Sure. Get a spoon.”

Cas fetches one. He holds it like an instrument of war. Dean loves him so fucking much.

They drizzle white chocolate over the strawberries. Cas does it so precisely his drizzles look like they came from the store. Dean’s drizzles improve. He makes a couple decent ones. For Jack, he guesses, ‘cause the ones Cas made should probably go to Sam.

“I gave you a strawberry,” Cas says out of nowhere. “And you gave me one. Does that make us Valentines?”

Dean freezes. 

A moment later, his heart restarts and he looks at Cas, who is solemnly drizzling. Then he looks innocently up at Dean, and Dean realizes that Cas has absolutely been fucking with him this whole time. Absolutely knows about Valentine’s Day, absolutely ate that strawberry out of Dean’s hand on purpose. Dean narrows his eyes at him. Cas tilts his head. 

“You’re a menace,” Dean grumbles. 

“That’s not a no,” Cas says. 

“You’re right,” Dean says. “I guess it does make us Valentines.” Cas smiles, a tiny, private thing, and then looks back down at his drizzling. 

“Good,” he says quietly, and Dean ducks his head, cheeks warm and heart fluttering, and he lifts up his spoon. 

It’s kind of cold in Kansas in February, but Dean imagines him and Cas wrapped in blankets,  feeding each other chocolate-covered strawberries in front of the TV. This time, he thinks, he’ll actually taste the strawberry. And you know what? Dean’s sure that those strawberry molecules and those chocolate molecules are gonna be fucking fantastic.

Especially if he gets to kiss them off Cas’ lips. 

(ao3)

[hanluex]

♡ NO AIRPODS FOR YOU — RAFE CAMERON

bf!rafe x gn!reader | wc : 0.8k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, swearing, somewhat morbid threats, crack / comedy (?) | loki's lines — for the way i love this man, this drabble didn’t really include much of him 😭

“jj, i’m serious! you are always taking my things and leaving them everywhere!”

you grumbled in annoyance, tired of the blond troublemaker hijacking your items.

the two of you were having your daily banter outside the chateau, next to the hot tub, while the rest of the pogues and your boyfriend, rafe, sat on the patio, watching everything unfold.

“dude, calm the fuck down, jeez.” jj rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag off the tree stump next to him. “i literally didn’t take your airpods! i don’t have them! see!”

he turned his bag upside down over the hot tub, shaking it to show he had nothing inside.

you almost felt bad for blaming your missing airpods on jj when suddenly the small white box dropped from the bag, falling into the water.

“jj maybank!” you yelled out in shock, seeing the surprise on jj’s face as he quickly scrambled into the hot tub to retrieve your airpods that he happened to have. “you fucking asshole!”

john b, sarah, and pope stifled their laughter upon seeing what happened. while kie and rafe winced, knowing they were about to witness another showdown between you and jj.

“shit, shit!” jj grabbed your airpods from the hot tub floor, holding them up as water dripped out of it. “i really didn’t know it was in there, y/n. i swear! i wouldn’t have shaken it over the hot tub like that. i promise, i didn’t know.”

you narrowed your gaze at the blond, raising your finger angrily. “you better start running, maybank. because when i find you, i swear on my life, i will fucking skin you alive and feed you to the magpies alive so you can—” a surprised gasp left your lips as you were lifted off your feet.

as soon as you started threatening jj, rafe walked towards you, somewhat fearing for the blond’s life as he knew of your abilities to scare a person shitless with just your words.

without another word, rafe simply wrapped his arms around your hips and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked you towards the chateau.

“we’ve talked about this before, darlin’.” he drawled. “you shouldn’t use that pretty mouth of yours to say such morbid shit.”

he sat you down on the patio, arms crossing over his chest as he looked at you. sarah and kie smiled teasingly as they made eye contact with you, knowing that all this was routine at this point.

john b and pope simply shook their heads, walking towards jj, who still stood in the middle of the hot tub, completely stunned by your threats — no matter how many different variations of them he heard.

“but you really can’t blame me!” you grumbled under your breath, avoiding eye contact with your boyfriend. “he’s the one who just dropped my airpods in water! if i could, i would burn him at stake and—”

“i’ll buy you new airpods.” rafe interjected, an amused look on his face. “only if you promise to never let another morbid threat ever leave your pretty lips. ‘kay, sweetheart?”

your eyes gleamed with excitement at getting new airpods. “i promise! not a single threat will ever escape me. i’m a new person now. threats are not my thing anymore, i solemnly swear.” you raised a hand as if you were taking an oath.

sarah and kie couldn’t help but burst out laughing at your antics, shaking their heads as they watched you become complete putty in rafe’s hands with just a few words.

just as you took a deep breath, about to let go of your old self, jj threw your airpod case at you, a teasing grin on his face as he noted the smile on your face.

this blondie really couldn’t stand seeing your smile.

“you dipshit! i swear, test me one more time and i swear i will kick–” you froze upon seeing rafe’s raised brows, an amused look in his eyes as if he challenged you to continue your sentence. “–away your worries and shower you with love because you are my bestest friend in the entire world.”

rafe snorted at your quick thinking. “great save, darlin’. i almost thought you were gonna break your promise there for a second, you know?” he smirked.

“as if i’d let jj ruin my only chance of getting new airpods.” you scoffed in disbelief and shook your head confidently. “because if that happened, i’d pop his eyes out of his head and make him eat them.”

the realization hit you as soon as the words left your lips, cursing under your breath. you covered your face with your hands, groaning in regret at your stupidity.

rafe bit back a laugh, nodding to himself. from the moment he made you make that promise, he knew it wouldn’t be long until you broke it.

“and … you broke your promise. great job holding back for the last three minutes. also, just so you know, no airpods for you.”

taglist : @maverick-wingman @loving-and-dreaming (to be added, please send a dm or ask!)

[luckych]

ʚ 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : how ___ react to becoming jealous : JUJUTSU KAISEN edition! ɞ

ʚ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : jujutsu kaisen x reader ɞ

ʚ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : some small fluff moments here and there and most definitely smut. ɞ

ʚ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : there may be some bad use of punctuation, maybe some spelling mistakes, nanami lowkey being kind of rough, mentions of oral sex, mentions of whining, crying, many pet names, some suggestive themes, JUST SOME KINKY FREAKY SHIT. ɞ

ʚ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : 2979 words. this is honestly the longest shit i’ve ever written.. at least on here. i’ve been gone for so long but i have this small little thing for people who’ll look. ɞ

ʚ 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : you and the character would be somewhere together with your either group of friends or just each other when some random guy comes up to you, flirting with you and asking if you had a boyfriend. ɞ

ʚ 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : me @luckych the idea might not have come directly from me and might’ve been done before, but none of my work is plagiarized. i wrote everything by myself, so you can obviously use the idea for yourself, but do NOT take my work and pass it off as your own, please and thank you. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ɞ

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

୨୧ - gojo satoru would most definitely playful about it yet totally obvious about his jealousy. once your waiter starts talking too much about you and how pretty you are, gojo definitely grabs your hand under the table, squeezing it slightly.

after the waiter had finally written down your order after yapping your ears off, he looked up from his notepad, looking your pretty body up and down in a flirtatious manner.

“you’re actually really pretty, ma’am–”

“oh, i know she is. she’s a reeeaal sight for sore eyes, isn’t she.. ben?,” he questions the guy in an annoyed tone, tilting his head to the side as if he was actually curious on what this puny imbecile had to say.

his tone was clearly extremely irritated as he softly squeezed your hand as you softly winced from his roughness.

“oh, is this your girlfriend, man? that’s my bad, dude.. w-what do you want to drink?,” your waiter questions your boyfriend, pretty much avoiding gojo’s jealous blue eyes as his stare alone intimidated him.

gojo couldn’t even hold back the scoff that escaped his lips as the complete audacity of this guy stunned him. he turned towards you, chuckling with masked anger.

“satoru, not here..”

“are you ignorant or what? you see two people alone at a two person table and you don’t think, “hmm, just maybe they might be on a date?,” gojo says, softly slamming his fist down against the nicely decorated table, shifting the table slightly as you could see a muscle in his jaw twitch.

“i said i was sorry. what else do you want me to say, man?,” the waiter asked in a slightly nervous tone, placing his pen in his chest pocket and his notepad in his clean, black apron.

“i’m about two seconds away from kicking his ass, babe. you should either hold me back, or let me hurt him,” gojo remarks, a muscle in his eye twitching as he stands up from his seat, cracking his knuckles.

the altercation quickly ended with you and gojo getting your entire meal for free, not before gojo got a few small punches in.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

𐙚 - toji fushiguro wouldn’t even let a guy flirt with you in the first place. on the off chance that a guy actually had the chance to even talk to you, you and toji were out to go get boba and ramen obviously from your pockets because you wanted to treat him to something nice.

you two were walking around on the streets, toji drinking his boba in once hand as his other was wrapped around your waist, holding you close in an extremely possessive manner. your head was resting against his shoulder as he was talking about buying (stealing) some jewelry for you to make up for the money you spent.

that was before some random guys were in front of you, obviously talking about you, pointing out your features very clearly as they continued to look back at you with smirks. toji was already becoming increasingly annoyed, his smirk turning into a scowl almost immediately at their childishness.

“bro, just go talk to her! he’s probably just her guy friend, dude!,” once of the guys murmured under their breath, looking back at you immaturely as they met toji’s harsh eyes. he narrowed his eyes at the boy as he immediately turned away with an anxious look.

whoever they were hyping up finally grew the balls to talk to you, his group of friends walking in front of him as he walked towards you with a nervous yet confident expression on his face.

he stood in front of you, making you and toji stop in your tracks.

“hey, i can see that you're gorgeous, but what else should i know about you?,” he says, his gross pick up line being so disturbing cheesy that you could actually taste it.

it was as if your boba had suddenly turned sour, the seemingly sweet taste becoming instantly bitter as you took a sip.

“i’m gonna stop you right there. you’re either blind, stupid, or both if you don’t see my hand CLEARLY around my GIRLFRIEND’S waist,” toji says in an displeased manner, exclaiming certain words he said to get his point across, passing his boba to you as he shoved the guy.

his friends immediately came to his rescue, running over towards him as they stood behind him, trying to tell toji that they were the ones who encouraged him to pursue you.

toji obviously couldn’t give less of a fuck, raising up his muscular arm as he punched the guy dead in the face with an extremely tight fist, the guy falling to the ground as his nose was bleeding profusely.

“toji fushiguro! that’s enough, i think he’s learned his lesson, don’t you?!,” you cried, running over to toji as you hold both of your boba drinks in only one hand, grabbing toji’s bicep softly.

“hell no he hasn’t. once he’s fucking dead, then i know he’s learned.”

once you guys were finally home after he beat that guy’s ass, you were busy gagging and choking on his dick as he teaches you a lesson because a guy flirted with you. yes, his logic is clearly flawed, but it was his best excuse to fuck you in the most aggressive, roughest way ever.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

౨ৎ - kento nanami would be the type to be chill about his anger during the situation but totally take his anger out on you in private, even if he’s totally against being rough with you. he’d just keep his anger pent up for way too long, his anger surging inside of him for too long for him to handle it properly.

when you and kento were out at a party one of his new friends invited him to, he decided to invite you as he didn’t want to leave his precious baby by herself all night.

since you wanted to make a good impression in front of friends, you decided to wear one of your favorite black dresses, the dress being extremely tight and hugging your curves well.

you did your makeup exceptionally nice, catching your boyfriend’s attention quickly.

“you’re really going to the party like that, baby? you look gorgeous, my love, but there’s going to be guys at the party,” he commented, placing his hands against your hips as he pulled you close to him, your face against his broad chest.

you felt him place a soft kiss against your forehead, a small blush creeping against your cheeks.

“i know. i wanna look good for you, not other guys,” you tell him with a reassuring grin.

nanami was extremely hesitant about letting you out of the house looking so seductive but he decided to allow it as he didn’t expect anybody to actually flirt with you.

sadly, he was dead wrong.

multiple guys at the party were flirting with you, even some of his new friends even though nanami was right there.

he just gave everyone who flirted with you an irritated stare, keeping himself composed to not ruin the night

once you guys were back home, you were crying, screaming his name as you took him harshly from the back.

you were pretty much so incredibly overstimulated to the point where you were cumming way quicker than you ever had in your life, your core being full of his seed and covered in your past orgasms.

afterwards, he definitely gave you the most wonderful aftercare of your entire life, giving you anything and everything you wanted.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

୨ৎ - megumi fushiguro would give you the silent treatment, not because he’s mad at you but because he needs a moment to calm himself down and think before he does something extremely irrational just because of his jealousy.

when you and megumi were hanging out at the park eating ice cream together, a guy who was on the swings with his little brother came up to you two, smirking softly as he looked you up and down in an obviously flirtatious way.

megumi looked up at the guy, seeing that he was obviously attractive.

you also looked up at the guy, becoming awkward and nervous as he stared at you.

“hey, i can see that you’re pretty bored with your friend here. want me to steal you away?,” the guy asked, holding his hand out as you didn’t return the favor.

you turned towards megumi, waiting for him to do something, anything, but he just sat their clenching his fists in angry silence.

you scoffed in an annoying manner, seeing megumi look up as you handled the situation by yourself. you told the guy to go fuck himself, telling him that megumi wasn’t your friend but your boyfriend.

he got the message as he walked away embarrassed, going back to his brother.

the date was awkward afterwards as you weren’t over the fact that he didn’t do anything at all even though you would’ve for him.

you both went to his house afterwards, giving him the silent treatment as he did to you earlier.

“babe, i’m sorry. i - i just froze up. you know if i could’ve done something, i would’ve! i love you, you know i do..,” he said, grabbing your hand as he turned you around, pulling you in as you rolled your eyes softly.

you knew that you couldn’t stay mad at him forever so you eventually gave in, feeling him press the most gentle kiss against your forehead before kissing your lips.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ೀ - suguru geto is extremely quick to just shut down any type of flirtatious conversation between you and a guy whether you like it or not. he’s just possessive like that.

when you’re talking to one of your old friends from back in the day, he can’t help but listen from the sidelines.

you two were out at a coffee shop just chatting about anything that came to mind.

the barista called out your name as it was the one that you put for the order. you and geto stood up from your table hand in hand, walking to the counter to grab your coffee and cakes.

you stare at the barista’s face for a long second, finding the structure and look of his face to be really familiar.

geto just decides to leave you to your weird actions, grabbing both of your coffees and cakes, taking them back to your seat.

“oh my gosh, chris? is that actually you?! holy shit, i didn’t think i’d ever see you again!,” you exclaim slightly, chris gasping at the discovery that it was you, one of his childhood friends.

you both started to have a conversation, catching up with each other about all the things you’ve missed over the years.

“you’ve definitely gotten prettier, y/n. you look way better than all those years ago,” chris says, reaching out to grab your hand. before you knew it, your hand was in geto’s as he dragged you away from your ‘friend.’

“don’t ever talk to that stupid monkey again. if he can’t take a hint, you shouldn’t even be friends with him,” geto said, pushing your cutely decorated cake and coffee over to you, rolling his eyes as chris still eyed you and your body.

geto caught your eyes staring at the barista, becoming annoyed that he still didn’t get the message.

he turned towards your fake friend, sticking his middle finger up high towards him, telling him to fuck off in the meanest way he could muster.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ʚɞ - choso kamo would definitely be really needy and desperate for your attention whenever he’s jealous even if it’s a little bit. he always hates it when you talk to other guys, becoming really self conscious for god knows why.

he will NEVER ever tell you why he’s jealous so don’t even ask him.

when you and choso are out at the beach (you dragged choso out), you were laying against a beach towel under and umbrella as choso sat next to you in a chair trying to ignore the heat and how boring it was, knowing that he could’ve been playing video games right now when a guy comes up to you, softly tapping the umbrella as it catches your attention.

you open your eyes, seeing a tan guy with his shirt off, his abs being extremely prominent as he was a muscular guy.

choso looks at the guy then at you, immediately climbing out of the chair to sit next to you on the towel.

you sit up, listening to the way the man flirted with you so confidently and persistently.

choso leaned against your shoulder, whispering soft whines and begs for you to tell him to go away. “c’mon, y/n, tell him to go away already..,” choso pleaded, softly shaking your arm.

eventually, the guy caught the hint that your pale baby was your boyfriend, walking away with a silent scoff. you turn towards choso, seeing the pout on his face as he clings against your arm.

he was obviously frustrated as this wasn’t the first time a guy has hit on you.

he was trying to mask his anger but it was way too obvious by his body language and how he was acting. when you ask him what’s wrong, he can’t help but talk your face off, ranting for about an hour.

really, all you can do for this baby is just hold him in your arms, telling him that everything was gonna be okay and that you’d never leave him for another guy when he’s all that you needed.

afterwards, he definitely tries to control the way he reacts to his jealously as he can tell that he was overreacting just a little bit.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ꕤ - yuji itadori is honestly the least likely to be jealous out of the bunch. he’s honestly never jealous as he recognizes that there’s no reason to be.

he doesn’t care about guys flirting with you that much because he knows that you’re loyal to him and wouldn’t leave him for some other guy.

when he sees some random guy deciding to flirt with you when you guys are at the movies, he doesn’t really do much about it, not because he was too nervous or he froze up but because he literally knows you can take care of yourself and doesn’t need him to fight your battles for you.

( he definitely fights the battles you actually need help with though. )

once you finally get the guy away from you, you get your large popcorn bucket with your coke, handing yuji his drink before you two head into your movie.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ꕥ - sukuna is literally the most possessive of them all. he literally feels the slight urge to go ballistic when any guy even pays you any mind that isn’t him.

when you and sukuna are at the carnival together, getting ready to go on another ride, a guy comes towards you two with a large cone of cotton candy in his hand.

sukuna glares at the guy with pure disgust, a frown appearing on his face as he sees a puny human that isn’t you in his line of vision.

you thought that seeing sukuna’s harsh glare would make him go away but no. he just had to embarrass himself by persisting.

“hey there, pretty lady. do you believe in love at first sight or do i have to walk by again?,” he says in the flirtatious manner, a smirk plastered against his face as he holds out the cotton candy to you.

as you go to grab the cotton candy, sukuna’s hand immediately slaps your hand away, grabbing it instead of you as he drops the delicious looking cotton candy onto the floor, stomping on it and using his shoe to smush it down against the concrete.

how dare any other man try to grab your attention? another man trying to get your attention was almost like the world getting nuked.

“if you EVER in your pathetic, sad life decide to flirt with what’s mine, i won’t hesitate to kill you, freak,” he spat, spitting against the guys shirt as he pushes past him, shoving him as he grabs your hand, dragging you towards the line that you wanted to be in before some despicable loser interrupted you two.

“you’re mine, alright? and don’t you forget it.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - i made this extremely sleep deprived being extremely bored without anything to do so if it’s bad, then that’s understandable

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - again, this was made by me @luckych

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - i can agree to you using the idea because i feel like this has been done before, but please, don’t copy my work word for word.. (｡•ˇ‸ˇ•｡)

[thatbadadvice]

I (15f) am slightly worried that I led on some guys I did not mean to lead on.

There are two guys that I've hung out with over longer spans of time or regularly.

1. Hung out with him for several hours non-stop cause he was fun to hang out with, and we took a walk in the forest aswell, he got (slightly) touchy but not that much.

2. Works in a shop in my small city and I go there almost weekly just to hang out but always buy something, he sometimes offers me drinks for free (twice by now) or reduces the price.

They both got my insta too

However, the problem is that a) I'm not looking for a relationship and, more importantly, b) they are both in their 20s.

I took care to mention that I am only 15 to both of them but idk if that changed anything. Any advice? I also don't want to confront them directly cause I might have just interpreted it like this.

Hello, anonymous!

Thank you for writing in. I am delighted to inform you that you have excellent judgment for wondering what the hell is going on here, and for questioning these guys' behavior toward you.

Grown-ass men — and that is what dudes in their 20s are — bear the burden of not being weird to, for, or about young women of your age. It is the grown-ass men of the world who are obligated not to make you, or young women like you, feel weird about literally anything. In fact, grown-ass men should go out of their way, on purpose and with gusto, NEVER to get even within ten million football fields' worth of "(slightly) touchy" with a gal of your age. So that's my read on Mr. Walk In The Woods. I have less to say definitively about Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks, but I trust your judgment: if you feel like Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks is sending some ~ signals ~, you're right about it.

It sounds like both of these Grown-Ass Men are trying to make pretty creepo moves, so let me be clear: nothing you could ever do could even possibly in the most remote sense amount to "leading them on," because you are not responsible for the behavior of Grown-Ass Men.

I think you know this, or you wouldn't be asking the Bad Advisor this question. You know they're being weird. You know you haven't done anything beyond exist in these dudes' general sphere, which you are entitled to do! You are allowed to exist in the world without having to swat off the advances of older guys! It really sucks that girls and women can just be living our regular-ass lives and have dudes be at us like this. But you're not responsible for their decisions — whether it's a decision to offer you free/cheap drinks (with strings attached, implied) or to get (slightly) handsy during a walk in the woods.

The fact that you told both of these Grown-Ass Men explicitly that you are 15 years old should have sent both of them spinning back into the sun with shame and embarrassment, not that they probably needed it spelled out, but GOOD ON YOU for making it so clear. That is actually terribly brave of you, and they should have fallen all over themselves to not fall all over you subsequently. They should be mortified about their behavior.

You did not misinterpret their actions; and if you did, who cares? Some dudes who weren't hitting on a 15-year-old will continue to not hit on a 15-year-old? Girl, your self-preservation instinct is INTACT and WORKING. It's on them not to be creepos. Any Grown-Ass Man who is on the level and not a weirdo would 1000000000000% never need to be told "Hey dude, I'm 15" in the first place. You have good judgment. You are reading these men correctly.

So what do you do about your good judgment? Well, first — no more walks in the woods. Suddenly you have an urgent appointment that precludes all walks in woods! The benefit-of-the-doubt ship has sailed. Dude got handsy and you dislike it. Dunzo. You are unavailable for future walks in woods (or anywhere). You've got a test to study for, a practice to go to, some buddies to hang out with elsewhere. So sorry, no-can. Dude can find a 20-to-90-something-year-old woman to paw up under the canopy if that's his jam. There are scores of women his age and older who'd be glad (i guess?) to get felt up while some dude shoves them ~ romantically ~ against the bark of a moldy Hackberry.

As for Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks — look, I appreciate the appeal of a discount beverage — but I think you gotta be prepared to aggressively (politely) pay for your drinks. Dude says "This one is on the house" and you DGAF, because you've got $5 cash and you're laying it on the counter with a smile and saying "I really appreciate it, but I'd like to pay for my drink — you get it!"

It's the "you get it!" that's really the key here. It's polite, but clear. It demands that these Grown-Ass Dudes do the work of not getting it and saying so if they're gonna be that dippy about it. You can use it on Mr. Handsy In The Woods, too. You can't do X, Y, Z because Reasons -- "Gotta get back to piano practice, it would be weird if I stayed here, since we're just friends! You get it!"

You shouldn't have to do the work of offering these dippos the "you get it" out, but it's a safe and reliable way of making it clear that they better the fuck get it. Like, they better the fuck understand that you are 15 and they are being weird about this whole deal.

Practice:

"Oh, I'd like to chill but doing another big long hang alone together would make it seem like we're going out or something, and that would be weird -- you get it."

"I appreciate the discount, but if I keep taking these drinks, it'll seem like you LIKE me or something. That's weird, right? You get it!"

If either of these Grown-Ass Men gets sketchy about these very polite brush-offs, that shit is on them and will only confirm what you know: you have great judgment. These dudes are weird. If they're going to be weird, you can be so polite that they have to explain why, specifically, they are being weird and don't understand what you are politely saying, which is that their interest in you is weird.

You have not led these Grown-Ass Men on by existing in their universe. You have not led them on by being polite to them and tolerating their inappropriate advances to preserve your own safety. The concept of "leading on" is bullshit, fucked up, heteronormative dipshittery that puts the burden on women, mostly, to account for the crappy behavior of men who can, do, and should know better. I assure you these men know better, and they think you don't. That's why older guys pursue younger and teen women in the first place — they think they get to be the big men in charge, because they're afraid they can't manipulate women their own age.

Here's what, though: they can't manipulate you, either. You are clever, self-possessed and a great self-advocate. They're being weird. You're being smart. Make sure they know it.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11

Prompt: Royalty AU

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending

"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir." 

"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit." 

Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair. 

"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-" 

Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?" 

"What, now you care?" 

He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs. 

"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?" 

*

The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.

Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like- 

"Watch out!" 

Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him. 

Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph. 

"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-" 

"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time." 

Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way. 

For a second, nobody says anything. 

"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful." 

"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!" 

His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans. 

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …" 

He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide. 

"I, erm … Dustin." 

"I'll stay here with Dustin." 

*

Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick. 

Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.

"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids." 

Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light. 

"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though." 

Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee. 

"You mean the royal visit?"

Eddie huffs. 

"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."

Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-" 

Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-" 

"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon." 

They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly. 

Dustin sighs and stands. 

"Coming, Hop." 

"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-" 

And then it clicks. 

"Oh fuck," Eddie says. 

Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat. 

"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise." 

The door clicks shut. 

The car glides away. 

Eddie buries his face in his palms. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."

Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.

"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit." 

Eddie groans. 

Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day. 

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

[i-fucking-hate-ppl]

Sup mah dude! I've just finished binge reading your HH hcs and I freaking love them! ✨ If you're still taking requests, may I get how getting married with our demon boi Alastor would be like? From what lead him to deciding he was gonna marry our reader, how he proposes, what's the marriage gonna be like, etc., etc. And if you can, maybe include how our other main characters would react? Thank you for blessing us ❤️✌️

Wassup! I hope you enjoy this fluffy bundle of fluff!

Alastor decided he was going to marry you the moment he came to term with his feelings. He hasn't even thought about courting anyone since, well he was alive! Even then it was mostly to please his dear mother!

He can't recall a time he's ever felt this way about anyone before, and if he was ever going to marry someone he knew it'd be you.

Of course he's a gentlemen though, he won't start with that. No no no, it simply won't do.

He'll test it out first. Make sure you two are actually compatible. It'll be a few years before he starts asking subtle hints about what you like it rings, like certain cuts or perhaps gold vs silver, ring size.

To be safe you don't know, he'll buy you a ring for you birthday to throw you off.

And once he's done browsing and has found the most perfect, stunning ring he'll propose.

He'll make sure it's your anniversary to once again throw you off, and take you out to the best restaurant. He'll make sure to plan quite a few activities, and at the end he'll take you for a walk. Of somewhere private and most importantly quiet with the most beautiful view you could possibly find in hell.

He'll find the perfect opportunity to step back, while you're distracted by the site seeing to kneel and just wait patiently for you to turn around.

And the moment you say yes he's up and slipping that ring on your finger with a peck to your forehead.

-

Charlie was flabbergasted. She didn't think Alastor would ever, in a million years, propose and get married. Although that didn't stop her excitement. She's quick to congratulate you two and squeeze you both in a big old hug!

Vaggie really couldn't care less, she was shocked but just doesn't care as much. Giving a smile congratulations and a smile. She does wonder if you have magical, voodoo love spells or something though..

Angel Dust most certainly said something inappropriate and is now trying to fight off a pissy Alastor during all the congrats.

Sir Pentious is just "Really? That's who you want to marry? For the rest of your life that's who you want to be stuck with? I'm not judging.. but I'll be praying for you dear!"

Husk gives no fucks, he tried warning you and you ignored him. It'll be your own bad decision he already made his. No congrats either.

Nifty is jittery and beyond excited. Talking and asking questions a mile per minute. Climbing all over you while she does. She also can't believe Alastor will be married, what is your secret to a bad boy's heart! Tell. Her.

-

The wedding is most certainly in cannibal town, it's the place close to Alastor's heart. It reminds him so much of his era in life, honestly can't imagine the wedding taking place anywhere else.

He would prefer if the wedding was more traditional, such as you wearing a white dress/tux. But if you would prefer a dress/tux of a different color he will be willing to bend since he wants you to be just as happy as he will be.

He'll also want it to be very, very small. Just a few people.

He will try to do most of the work so you don't have to worry about anything.

Rosie will most certainly be the wedding officiant, she got certified just for him! She didn't expect an Ace in the hole such as Alastor to ever get married and is beyond excited to do this for him!

Zestial is his best man, and the rest of his best "men" are Husk (who was most certainly forced to be there) and Nifty.

He didn't care who you chose as your best, as long as it wasn't Lucifer.

He'll most certainly go for a red and black theme and hope you agree.

The flowers would be deep red roses with black lilies, with a small touch of pink roses just to brighten it a bit.

Cake would most certainly be yellow, with black frosting and deep red frosting roses on it, decorated beautifully.

He'd pretty much make sure the whole wedding was perfect and beautiful. Just for you.

Zestial will be walking you down if your Father isn't in hell. He doesn't want you to walk alone down the aisle!

His vows would be

"You know dear, you are very special to me. There isn't a single soul in heaven or hell that could possibly make me feel the way I do for you. You're one in a million! A random, wild chance that I will never take for granted! The first and only one that could ever warm my heart! I promise that I will always take care of you and protect you until the very end! A promise that will never be broken, forever and always my darling."

He'll make sure no one can see the sealing kiss, but he most certainly seals that shit. You are his now, always.

Zestial will also act as your father for the first dance and give you away to Alastor after as well, if your Father isn't present. Just to keep things traditional and make you happy.

Of course the music is played from a radio and of course it's mostly Jazz.

After it's all said and done and you're home, Alastor might feel the very rare want to have sex. But if not he'll hold you close and read to you from one of your favorite books without his radio static. He'll have tea and snacks on the side table for you to enjoy as you listen to him speak. If you doze off he'll change you into some pajamas and lay down you down in bed before getting ready and laying with you and holding you close.

Then it will be your turn to plan the honeymoon, he will let you have free reign to decided where you'd like to go and what you would like to do and only give input if you ask for it.

[faithandfairies]

You know, Rizzoli & Isles is interesting. There are moments where the characters are completely in denial about how they feel about each other. But then there are moments where they themselves are very self-aware and can't ignore their own feelings.

Another one of those moments is when Jane jumps off that bridge in 5x12. They frame it as Maura simply being afraid because she almost lost her best friend Jane. But then Maura herself shows awareness of believing it being more than that.

She's so overcome she almost starts crying when she hugs Jane after she is found and then walks off because she was scared she almost lost Jane.

Then Maura herself pretty much tells us she was struggling with her feelings towards Jane almost dying again in front of her eyes. And Maura being Maura she basically tells us in her Maura way that she was looking for a logical explanation for her feelings that wasn't her simply being in love with Jane while being in a relationship with a dude.

It's in everything in that conversation between Jane and Maura after Jane is found. It's in the way Maura looks at Jane, that same look she gave Jane on that bridge only now that they're alone she isn't trying to hide it at all. It's in what she says to Jane, it's in her mannerisms. Everything in that scene screams "I'm in love with you and I don't know what to do with myself because of it."

And then Jane tells her it's survivor guilt and that drives home what's been going through Maura's mind. Because then Maura puts distance between her and Jane, hell she puts a whole desk between her and Jane after she first says "Excuse me?" followed by "Why didn't I think of that?" in this thoughtful way that underlines that she was attributing her strong emotions to being in love with Jane. But now has a more logical explanation to grasp onto as well as being once again clear on the fact that she and Jane aren't on the same page.

And Jane was doing so well too, buying Maura her favorite super expensive perfume. I am convinced that if Jane had asked Maura out in that moment or had confessed romantic feelings for Maura and expressed an interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with her Maura would have either said "yes" or "I need to think about it because I'm in love with you and loving you means being accepting of the dangers that come with your job and I need time to accept that" or something.

This show, it's always Maura that's aware that she's in love with Jane and Jane being the one that's in denial.

But it's so interesting because Jane is not completely oblivious. She has extremely quick wit and is insanely observant. She is a detective and excellent at her job. She can draw correct conclusions with a single look in anyone's direction and even more so when it comes to people she knows and loves. Unless her own limiting beliefs and assumptions get in the way that is. There is a reason Jane bought Maura her favorite insanely expensive perfume to say sorry and not something else. She knows Maura is in love with her and she didn't need her mother to spell Maura's feelings about her out to her. She did need someone to back up the "Maura's feelings are just friendly" story she's been telling herself though and her mother did just that.

[daisiescomelate]

Love Spell

Prompt: secret crush + alcohol = disaster. Sukuna believes himself able to hold his liquor but he might quit drinking all together after tonight.

Content: Sukuna/Reader, drunk Sukuna, drunk flirting, sukuna hiding his crush.

masterlist

The music reverberated on his body, pumping his blood and making him feel hot. His vision was a blast of red light and dancing shadows. He struggled with the floor that couldn’t hold steady, the drink on his hand spilled a little from the side. He gulped it down so nothing else would go to waist. A figure in front of him curled their fingers calling him over and he smiled, ready to step forward, when from behind a familiar voice called his name.

“Sukuna”

The ring of that voice was clear to his ear even in the chaos of the club. It shot a run down of electricity down his spine to set all over his skin and on the pit of his stomach with a tingle. He turned around with the intention of focusing his eyes on the ones he wanted to see. Your image separated from the blur of the crowd and took a better shape as you got closer.

“Sukuna, it’s late. Let’s go, I have work tomorrow.” You grabbed his wrist, trying to make him focus on you. The trick was not necessary, his gaze was set on you and your outfit. If his eyes wondered it was to take a better look. “We are the only ones left, and you’re too drunk to stay by yourself, buddy.”

“Yeah, sure”, he said absentmindedly. As if he would offer resistance to the idea of you taking him anywhere. Damn, that outfit looked good on you.

“Alright, chop chop.” You pulled his arm and guided him through the mass of people towards the exit. He followed you from behind and his eyes couldn’t help to wonder somewhere they shouldn’t, but he was relatively quick to catch himself. The place smelled like alcohol and sweat, but tailing behind you he got a trace of that scent of yours, not a perfume… shampoo? What shampoo was it again? He should buy it, it smells so good.

White light broke in the distance. The mess of bodies ended and the night breeze hit his face. A bulk guy in plain black said something to you, making you smile in his direction as you answered back. Sukuna frowned at the dude as he passed him. The man stared in confusion as he held the door open for you both.

“Easy, tiger.” He told him, which only annoyed Sukuna further. He could take down that guy with an arm tied behind his back. Was his height what gave him so much confidence? Sukuna had knocked out people much taller than him.

Sukuna felt his arm being tugged again and he remembered who he was following. He heard the sound of the heavy metal door close behind himself and like that the night fell quiet. His body already missed the vibration and his ears felt clogged, but now the street lights made it easier to see and you looked stunning with the white gleam surrounding you like a halo.

“Can you walk?” you asked, changing the grip you had on his wrist to his shoulder. His brain needed a second to process your words, too focused on the way your hand traveled up his arm. Was it the cold from outside or the path your fingers drew on his skin that gave him goosebumps and made his head give another spin? He finally made sense of the question. It sounded like a stupid question, to be honest.

“Of course– Of course I can walk” he said, but for some reason the words were hard to get out because of the weight of his tongue. Sukuna lifted one hand and touched the tip of his tongue with the tip of his fingers wondering what the hell was wrong with it. The action seemed to move his center of gravity because he tilted to the side and almost fell into the pavement.

You were there immediately, catching his weight with your whole body and pushing him straight back up. At the contact of your sides pressed together a low moan escaped him. His arm seemed to move on its own when he curled it around your waist. If he tilted his head and moved it to the side your lips would be right there for him to catch.

“C’mon big boy, use both feet.” You said while you struggled.

The shape of them was so tempting. He wanted to push closer and trap your lower lip between his teeth, lick to finally get an idea of what they tasted like. A thought flashed at the back of his mind, something he was supposed to remember. Something important.

“Sukuna please, cooperate with me. You’re too heavy.” You catched that lip between your own teeth and then the tip of your tongue flashed out to care for that spot. Sukuna followed every bit and felt his inside flutter. Then, the previous thought sparked through the haze of the whiskies and margaritas and he remembered.

Fuck, too close. He thought, and quickly moved to get on his two feet properly and took his arm away.

The sudden motion made you stumble. You catched yourself by holding his arm again. When you were secure on your feet again you looked up at him.

“Ready now?” You said with a scolding frown.

In the haze of the alcohol Sukuna had almost forgotten how elemental it was for him to keep his hands to himself when you were around. The wave of rationality, unfortunately, quickly reseeded when he felt you hug his waist and place his arm over your shoulder. Suddenly he couldn’t remember the important thing.

“I will help you walk, let's go. There is no one else on the streets at this hour, I want to get home as soon as possible.” You secured his position by holding his hand that was hanging over your shoulder and gave the first step forward.

Sukuna hummed at your perfume again and buried his nose on your head.

“You still feel like flirting?” You laughed, because he had been playing and praying all night as he usually did, setting for anyone that showed him a green light.

“Mmm…” he answered, trying to discern if what he was smelling was some kind of fruit or herb. He felt like there was some vanilla in there.

Something was odd, though.

Ah, yes.

Sukuna moved his hand and catched yours again, intertwining your fingers together.

There.

He felt your body shake slightly and he guessed you were silently laughing but he couldn't figure out what it was. He heard something along the line of ‘so cute’. Maybe there was a puppy somewhere.

Sukuna raised his head to look for the puppy, pushing you to the side with his weight when his balance changed. He felt you push in the opposite direction so as to not be sent out of the sidewalk and into the streets.

The streets were soaked after a light night rain. Water dripped from the leaves of the trees you passed. The fresh air was so different from the smoke heavy air of the club. Sukuna thought back on how fun the night was. He had found a very fun, very pretty redhead as soon as you all got there and followed her without looking back.

He remembered her dancing while staying close to him and how hypnotizing she had become a few rounds into the night. He was sure he knew who he was taking home with him then when he got bored of the party. He tried to remember what she had said her name was. Heather? Haidy? No wait, that was someone else. The name with the H was the blond one. Red hair, red hair… Maybe he never got her name? It was loud. He hadn’t asked either.

Sukuna moved his free arm to pat over his jeans and jacket. Walking with him twisting and moving like that made it hard for you to keep your hold of him.

“Did you forget something? Your phone?”

“Nah. I got someone’s number… I don’t– I don’t remember actually. I’m looking.”

“Can’t you do that when you get home?”

“She was hot. Lincy– Lily– something.”

“Well, looks like she really catched your interest.” So much that he forgot to catch her name. “We’ll look for her next week.”

“Mmm…” Sukuna hummed pleased. “She really knew how to dance.”

“I’m sure, Romeo.”

Sukuna delighted in the memory for a second longer and then frowned. “We were having a good time, but I lost her at some point.” Did someone else call him over? Maybe she got a sight of someone else, or maybe…

“There were a lot of people there and you were very drunk, it wasn’t hard to miss people in that crowd. I was talking with someone too, I left to get a drink and they were gone. I couldn’t find them again. It was a shame, they were cute.”

Ah, right…

Sukuna pressed his jaw at the memory. He had seen you in the crowd with a person standing a little bit too close to you for his own comfort. He was too far gone with the liquor to care to be subtle about it. After a while staring at the person talking you to your ear and looking clearly displeased, Redhead lost interest and left him to pout by himself.

Standing in the middle of the crowd dancing around him, with a glass on hand, he watched you too get all cozy with each other. The person made some stupid joke and you laughed like an idiot with your eyes shining under the dim light. The person was nothing but lacking. Shitty plain cheap clothes, messy hair, too many accessories. Sukuna had a bad feeling about this person and felt like he should walk all the way there to warn you.

When you moved away from them he didn’t waste a second to walk into their direction to say hi. He didn’t do anything to them, he didn’t even mention you, but they must have got the message that Sukuna thought they were annoying because soon they escaped to the darkest corner of the club to hide from him.

It was once the problem was taken care of that the blond winked at him from a distance. Right, Haily. What happened after that is more of a blur, most likely that was the point when he started accepting the flashy cocktails from the bartender.

You walked another block with Sukuna dragging his feet. Sukuna thought back to the sunset peach cocktail he shared with another faceless person. Your steps were heavier on the pavement and you were audibly struggling to breathe.

You both walked another few blocks like that until you called it quits. You stepped away from the streets and carried him to the side. You were passing a wide park with a small pond next to a set of trees just ahead with two benches that had a nice view of the water next to it.

“Okay, I need a break.” He heard you say. He followed you as you walked to the side and next to one of the benches. “Sit down, big boy.”

Sukuna dropped all his weight over the bench. He cursed between his teeth when he noticed the seat was still wet because of the rain. He tried to stand up but you pushed him back down. “If you stand up now and you fall on your ass I won’t be able to pick you back up.” You said rubbing your shoulder. “Jesus, how much do you weigh? Do you really need that much muscle?”

“You don’t like ‘em?” He smiled and stretched his arms over the back of the bench and spread his legs, as if setting himself on full display.

He saw something under the dim lights of the street lights above, something that delighted his drunken brain. You looked slightly embarrassed by looking and he had the sudden urge of seeing if he could make it worse.

He reclined forward, set on not breaking eye contact.

“Why are you standing there? I don’t bite.”

You sighed heavily and sat next to him, with his arm behind your back. The tip of his fingers brushed the hair at the end of your nape. “Your outfit looks nice today.” You rolled your eyes, which pleased him.

Sukuna knew of his reputation and how so many people saw him as a player –not that he could deny the allegations. If he acted like any other thing around you it would only be suspicious. So he kept a solid act with you, but never let it go out of hand.

But why deny himself something he wanted? Because he came to realize he might want this a little bit too much. No relationship in his life had ever been nothing but flitting. He didn’t know how to make long term things work. And he had the impression if he ever wanted to try something with you it would be a one chance opportunity. So he made a plan. The main problem about his lack of commitment was how fast he got bored of people, but he had a strong feeling that wouldn’t be a problem with you. The second issue that interfered with his relationships was his whole attitude. He was pretty and hot while his mouth was shut or doing some other things, but very few people could truly stand him on a day to day basis.

So he was doing some self improvement work, like a big boy. But it was taking too damn long. His ego had done a great job keeping him blissfully blind to the depths of his bullshit. Even he had a hard time listening to himself speak as of now.

It was taking way too long. He was abashed by how much crap was engraved in his personality and how hard all his stupid patterns run down on his system. He gained self awareness and absolutely nothing else, which was a nightmare because he could now clearly see all the ways the ship would go down if he ever took the first step with you but had no solution to any of his problems. The clock was ticking, monkeys kept crawling your way to lamely flirt with you, and Sukuna had to bite his tongue and hope none of those assholes could convince you of anything.

Fortunately he learned that he could distract you a little bit with his games.

He played with a strand of your hair that had fallen out of place, keeping his eyes fixated on the skin of your neck. He traced a short line from the line of your hair to your upper back over your spine. You shudder and slightly move away by instinct.

“Cold breeze?” He asked, playing you. It gained him a scold but you immediately looked away from him. He smiled to himself and traced the same line for the second time. There was a slight shudder again but you didn’t move and he smiled to himself.

He tilted his head to be closer to you and blew over the shell of your ear. You jumped at the unexpected action, covered your ear and flipped your face only to realize he was close enough for your noses to be close to touching.

“Where are we going anyways?” he asked without moving.

“What?” You asked dumbfounded.

“Where are we walking to, my house or yours?”

You blinked, “Oh.” You cleared your throat and said, “I was going to drop you off at your place and then go back to mine.”

“That sounds so complicated, you should just stay the night.”

“I don’t feel like sleeping on a couch, thank you. My back is going to kill me tomorrow.”

“My bed is big. No need for you to stay on the couch.”

You opened and closed your mouth without a sound like a fish out of the water.

Sukuna moved forward, purposely further infringing into your personal space.

“I’m not gonna do anything to you. No need to worry.” He smiled widely, because he meant it. Sukuna was working so hard to keep his hands to himself, if you wanted to make him change his plans you would have to beg him.

“What’s the deal with you today?”

Sukuna looked down at your lips –which made your eyes grow wide– and took a while to think.

“Too much alcohol, maybe.” Me murmured to himself and straightened his posture. “Argh…” he complained and stretched his arms over his head. Alarms were ringing at the back of his mind again and he felt like he had to back up immediately.

“So, are we staying here all night or are we going home now?” He said as he crossed his arms over his chest looking forward and avoiding the stream of questions in your eyes. “I feel like it’s about to start raining again.” He said looking up at the sky.

You looked up and the grimace on your face told him you agreed with him. “Okay, let’s go.

You stood up and extended a hand to help him out of the bench too. Sukuna placed both hands over his knees and stood from the seat.

“I’m feeling much better, actually.” He said but still placed his arm around your shoulders as he walked forward. He didn’t lay his weight on you again, instead he focused on keeping his stand so no other part of you would actually touch him. “Why don’t we buy something to eat on our way back, love?”

“At three in the morning?”

“There is a convenience store around the block close to my apartment. Did you bring your wallet?”

“Pay for yourself.”

“I never pay for anything when I go out. I don’t have money on me.”

Sukuna heard a quiet ‘idiot’ from you and laughed. You were still the only two people out there so he couldn't care less about how loud he was.

[seat-safety-switch]

At the flea market, there's always something great to be had. Sometimes it's something obvious, like a cool Proto-branded wrench at the bottom of a bin full of scrap wrenches. Or it's an album from a band you've never heard of that you pick up on impulse, one that becomes your all time favourite. Or it's the curse you pick up from the weird old lady who runs the honey booth, the one that makes you awaken in the middle of the night, having set fire to a rival meadery without any memory of doing so. All classic moments, but there's one person that really doesn't belong at the flea market.

First, let me explain the context. In my part of the world, food trucks are extraordinarily expensive. I don't mean the truck itself, although buying the fancy kitchen parts for it can get wallet-scorchingly unpleasant. No, I mean the license to run it. You have to submit to all these interviews in order to get approvals, and regular inspections, and file registration fees every quarter. Bureaucracy run mad, if you ask me.

When I was a kid, you used to be able to buy a clapped-out old Econoline and sling burgers and fries out of it into whatever jobsite you decided to stop at. Then, once Big Bylaw started opening the dictionary to look up how to spell "ptomaine," you just went to the next one or laid low for a little while. Nowadays, hipster food that isn't big enough to merit a truck? That food is in a booth at the flea market.

Now, the food is perfectly alright. You've got ramen with hot sauce, ramen with a different hot sauce, and ramen with a third hot sauce. If you're there early enough, you can get a fourth booth's limited-edition ramen with soy sauce and hot sauce. I like this food. What I don't like is that these booths are pushing out the traditional flea-market supplier, sketchy dudes who are trying to sell stolen video games, old car parts, and tools. I can only eat one $18.99 bowl of artisanal craft ramen at lunch, but I can fill my entire hockey bag with tools of whose origin the cops will ask questions about.

If someone doesn't do something soon, the flea market will become a food market. I'll have to go back to getting my deals the traditional way: scaring suburbanites at their domestic garage sales. Nobody wants that! Not least because there's no decent restaurant within walking distance of a cul-de-sac-laden exburb for when my Plymouth blows its radiator after creeping along at 5 km/h all morning.

[mr-jack-letterman]

Okay pause wait I just smacked in the face with another Submas Au concept-

(cw for kinda horror and death I suppose)

It's literally midnight and I have no visual representation of this but just HEAR ME OUT- SBSNBDBD.

"MissIngo"

Aka instead of being sent to the past Ingo gets glitched out of existence and becomes a glitched out MissingNo husk 😭.

This literally only originated from the fact Ingo can be spelled with the letters in MissingNo

MissingNo y'know?.

Now bro just kinda, exists as a glitched out, sad, amnesiac ghost almost always in some level of pain and only lives on in Unovan ghost stories. Essentially, dudes an Irl pokemon creepypasta. Dude is literally the submas version of Lost Silver NSNDNNDD.

Eh who knows maybe MissIngo and Lost Silver are friends lmao/j

Poor dude is literally such husk of his former self the universe itself can't remember who he is 😭. The only people fully aware of Ingo's disappearance is Emmet and Elesa cause suddenly their family, their fans, and their coworkers have never heard of an "Ingo" and Emmet has been an only child for years.

Emmet better buy an action replay or some shit cause if he wants to summon his brother he's gonna have to break the fuck out of reality BSBDJNDJD.