#I don't know if someone already talked about this or if this is a reach but either way I found it interesting so I made a post about it!

[mattslolita]

꒰shy!matt & fuckgirl!reader꒱ ⟡headcanons !

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚

꒰ SFW! ꒱

fuckgirl!reader would've . . .

✦ met matt at a party she was hosting — well, more or less she would've bumped into the poor kid; she'd never seen him around before, but from taking one look at him? it didn't take too long to have him under her arm by the end of the night.

"never seen you around here before...came with friends?"

"my brothers dragged me here, m'not sure what i'm even doin-"

"are you- you're one of those triplets, yeah?"

"yeah, i'm matt-"

"think i'm gonna like you, matt...stop fiddlin' baby, m'not gonna bite you, 'kay? unless you're into that."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ make it a point to drag matt to every party she's either hosting, or attending — he's nervously got his arm around her waist, whilst she's combing her freshly manicured nails through his brown locs while greeting her friends and whatnot.

"y/n, who's this?"

"this is matt, cute, ain't he?"

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ not make it clear, but basically matt is hers — dating? no. whatever they were, everyone knew to steer clear of the shy, blue eyed boy, for her claws were already nestled knee deep into his heart.

"you here with someone? why don't you-"

"back the fuck up an' leave, yeah? he's with me."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ secretly enjoy matt's constant need for physical affection — the subtle whine as he desperately tries to get her attention whether it was reaching out for her, or brushing his hand against her thigh.

"pretty girl..."

"whatcha want baby, huh? wan' me on your lap? use your words f'me."

"on my lap...please..."

"course, pretty boy, c'mere."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ be ready to throw hands with whoever says one thing about matt's shy nature — their contrasting personalities is one of the reasons she gravitated towards him; the shy, quiet boy and the social butterfly of a girl — she wanted to preserve that much about him.

"kid doesn't even fuckin' talk half the time."

"y'know what, i'd rather him barely talk and have him say something intelligible- which is more than what i could say for you cause every time you open your mouth, it's fuckin' nonsense. fuck outta here."

"y'think i'm intelligent?"

"what kinda question is that, huh? course i think you're smart, pretty boy."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ never admit it, but she loves it when matt does girlfriend like things for her — whether it was the casual arm resting on her hip or the shopping sprees, she loved every bit of it.

"aw, this dress is too cute! whatcha think baby?"

"put it on my card, pretty girl."

"what, no way, matt. i can pay for it myself!"

"b-but i just wan' do somethin' nice for you...can i buy it for you? please?"

✦ but it was the small things that really did it for her — she loved it when he grabbed her possessively, or when he studied with her after school. little picnics, cozy dinners, and cuddles warmed her heart the most. ( but you'd never catch her admitting to falling for him. hard. )

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ secretly steal matt's clothes if she's over his house — little by little, things like sweaters or shirts would make disappearances because she's busy taking them for herself.

"princess, have you seen my boston jersey?"

"tsk, not that i know of, baby. if i find it, i'll give it to you!"

( as the jersey sits tucked away at the top of her drawer. . . )

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ unknowingly have an affect on matt and his tendency to not speak up for himself — her unapologetic bluntness helped alot.

"i don' think she wans' me, she jus' wants to study-"

"she wants to fuck you, matt. an' there's no way that's happenin' on my watch."

"i'm serious, princess! she-"

"matt, shut the fuck up. you're not goin' to study with her, got it?"

"yes ma'am." ( oh ma'am drives her wild. )

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ do small acts of dominance if she felt like someone wanted to get at matt — she didn't care if they were around people; if she felt the need to start making out with him in a crowded room whilst people watched them, she's doing it.

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ unknowingly smile at small things matt would do, like if he started rambling about something that happened to him that — the way his brown curls fell messily across his forehead whilst his arms flailed around animatedly, and the way his blue eyes were slightly widened and his cheeks had a pink tinge to them due to his excitement. . .she wouldn't even realize she'd been admiring him the whole time, not even listening at one point.

"...hey, y'still there?"

"huh? what?"

"were you starin' at me? stop that..."

"aw, why should i, pretty boy? y'look so cute all excited an' shit. keep talkin', gorgeous."

꒰ NSFW! ꒱

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ take matt's shy nature to her advantage, and completely slut that boy out.

"p-please princess...n-need t'cum, please..."

"aw, am i ridin' you too good, can't even speak up when i ask you to?"

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ purposely mess with matt by cuddling up to other guys ( never actually fucking them ) because she loves the way matt pleases her when he shows her how much better he can make her feel then all the rest.

"oh go- fuck, so good, baby! ya such a good boy f'me, don't stop..."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ love cowgirl with matt, always forcing him to look her in the eyes whilst she rides him.

"fuck, fillin' me up s'good, pretty boy. look at me baby, wan' see them pretty eyes..."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ let matt suck on her breasts like the needy man he is — instead of asking to please her, he'd look up at her with sultry eyes and begin sucking on the soft mound of skin, silently asking to do more.

"whas' the matter, pretty boy, tell me what you need."

" please...jus' wan make you feel good..."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ endlessly tease matt in any way — she would grind against his clothed erection, sucking on his neck in that sweet spot that makes him weak,

"i- fuck, n-need t'feel you, princess."

"gonna be good f'me, sweet boy?"

"y-yes, always..."

✦ and she would always tease his tip before fully taking him — kitten lick on the underside, hearing the needy whimpers leave his lips as she grins up at him, seeing his flushed and exasperated expression.

"i ju- wan' cum princess, please just touch me."

"patience pretty boy, such a pretty cock...gonna make you feel s'good, yeah?"

shy!matt who . . .

✦ blindfolds you whilst he eats you out — he's too timid to have you see him grind against the bed needily while he devours you like his last meal.

shy!matt who . . .

✦ whimpers upon the smallest touches you gift him with, leaving him extremely frustrated and needy for you.

shy!matt who . . .

✦ cries during sex because the pleasure is too overwhelming for him — the feeling of being inside of you, how intimate it all was, made him emotional.

shy!matt who . . .

✦ loves giving and receiving marks — he loves to mark you up on your inner thighs and your neck, and he loves receiving them everywhere on his body.

shy!matt who . . .

✦ is a giver — he loves your praise as he pleasures you with his tongue, much for his own enjoyment as much as it is yours.

( kiwi's corner 💌 )

so so excited to introduce fuckgirl!reader & shy!matt !! they're gonna be another one of my favs, i hope you guys will like them !! muah.💌

taglist🥝 : @muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @luverboychris @cottoncandyswisherz @chanelles-world

@sturnprime @aelinslegend @chrissturniolossidehoe @sturniqloo @chaossturns

@fairyrcts @mbbsgf @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d @oliviasturniolo21

@wh4re4chratt @cyberdre4ms @luvleyangeldust @pvssychicken @lovesturni0l0s

@delilahsturniolo @venusxsturnio @chrissystur @sweetangelgirl7 @wovenribbons

@chrispotatos @chrissystur @jetaimevous @55sturn @yn-ws

@u-didnt-see-this @caseybennett @lowkeyobsessedwthesturniolos @sparklyskies0

@sturnsxbitvh @watercolorskyy @bagsbyclair0 @lovingregulusblack @starkeyszn

@victoryouactuallydidthis @colorthecosmos444 @elizasturn @y3sterdaysproblem @mattsfavoritestar

@78yaz @raerae1230 @slvttie-zx

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

When Wifey talks about her union organizing work, she talks about prospective contacts on a 1-5 scoring system. On the one end you have Conservative David who is considered a long term cultivation possibility, but someone who must be approached strategically and adaptively. And on the other end you have Leftist Jane who is not only already jazzed about the union, but seems like possible future leadership material because she has a great rapport with her department and solid social skills. How someone falls on the spectrum tells you how to approach, how much time/resources to invest in someone, and what expectations might be reasonable to have of your contact.

I think that it can be hard to let go of the instinct that we don't want to coddle people when they say stuff we know to be anti-labor. Especially when it's rare for more broad spectrum social skill building to focus on conflict resolution (as opposed to conflict avoidance). But conflict resolution isn't just for fights! It's for any time that you and another person are on different sides of an issue and need to reconcile yourselves somehow. Community organizing involves a lot of that, as well as rapport building, learning to hold the people around you in unconditional regard in ways they receive without sliding into their ideological camp, and how to de-escalate a situation where someone is becoming agitated.

And if you feel anxious about those things, don't be! It feels scary and threatening because you weren't taught how to do it. But if you join a program like a union where they WILL, once you start to get the hang of it, that sense of mastery translates into less anxiety doing the thing! It's always easier to do something you have a lot of tips and tricks to manage weirdness for right? Same thing here.

So honesly? If you're someone who wants to get into organizing and doesn't know how, maybe just start by reaching out to local unions, social coaches, peer group facilitators, etc and see if any of them would teach a class if you got a group together! Learn as a community how to talk to each other and share space in ways that make it feel easier, not harder, to do the work that needs doing.

Activism is not cold-calling.

Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.

I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.

As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.

Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.

Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.

This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.

Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.

[manheeiim]

Nothing Lasts Forever - Gone Too Early

Warning: Season 4 Finale Spoiler Ahead

ᥫ᭡ link to nothing lasts forever masterlist

I ran through the crumbling building, my goggles pushed up my face, headscarf covering my hair as I ran around looking for JJ. He had left for a few moments to help the others and we were now separated and I was alone, scared for my life.

I had never thought that my life would come to the point that I was in another country for the nth time, running from people. I was now always running from people ever since I met JJ and the other pogues.

I look around as I call out for my boyfriend when suddenly, someone comes up from behind, grabbing me harshly, one hand grips my shoulder while the other holds a knife up to my neck.

I scream and immediately I'm being shushed so I oblige, scared for my life. I didn't even know who was behind me but I had a few guesses.

I could hear footsteps and JJ came running in he froze for a moment as he saw the position that me and whoever was holding me were in. He then comes over, holding onto the bag that held the crown.

"Let her go!" He firmly told whoever was holding me.

"Stop right there." The man behind me tells JJ and so he does. "You know what I want." He tells JJ and even I knew what he was talking about. The crown, he wanted the crown.

"Just let her go." JJ says and I really hope that he just gives the crown to this man to get me out of this situation but really, I had no real doubt that he would.

"You could've stuck with me JJ. Think what you could've had." The man says and immediately I know that it's his dad. His real dad.

I'm whimpering in fear as this all happens as I look into my boyfriend's eyes, waiting for him to just give the guy the damn crown. He looks me back in my eyes before looking over at his dad.

"You want the crown. Sure, take it. Take it. I don't want it. Just let Lucia go." He firmly says.

His dad reaches out for it and JJ hands it to him, his other hand immediately grabbing onto me as he exchanges the crown for me. He holds me close as he pulls me away, leaning down and hugging me tightly.

I relax into his hold and start to cry a bit in fear as we hold one another close.

"It's okay. It's okay." He softly says and I pull away a little before kissing him. We pull away after a few moments and he looks down at me.

"JJ." I hear his dad say. JJ reluctantly turns around to face his dad. "It's a shame. You and me." His dad says and I sigh.

There's then a movement from his dad, a squelching noise, and JJ is bending down a little, a groan falling from his lips. I freeze, not able to process what had just happened. I back away a little and then I see, the knife in JJ's stomach. I gasp, my whole body now shaking in fear, not knowing what to do.

I watch in fear as his dad shoves the knife deeper into him, "You should have.. given me.. the rope." His dad says before pulling the knife out of him. JJ falls back a bit and I hold onto him as his dad stands there for a moment before running off.

"JJ..." I say, voice shaking. "JJ." I say a bit louder, the panic setting in. He falls to the ground and I kneel down with him. "No, no. No. Please, no. No." I'm stammering, tears sliding down my cheeks.

He's coughing, choking, stammering and I'm freaking out, my hand trying to stop the bleeding even though obviously that wouldn't work.

"I- I don't know what to do." I sob, feeling like I was making this even worse by not knowing what to do.

His hand comes up to my face before moving to my head, caressing my head over the scarf weakly. "Lucia.." He mutters out.

My heart drops even more than it already did, "No, no, don't." I say, knowing what he was going to say.

"Lucia, I love you. I love you so much." JJ says, despite my rejection. I find myself sobbing as I lean my head into his chest. "We're- we're not going to be able to have what we wanted. The- the big kook house with dogs and kids- kids of our own. I'm s-sorry, baby." He stammered out, using a lot of energy even to just say that.

Those words hit my heart so deeply, hurting it in a way I've never felt before. I'd never felt this type of pain before. Never in my life.

"Don't say that." I sob against his chest. "Don't!"

"I love you, Lucia. I love you." I say and after a few moments, I feel his body still and his hand slowly drops from my head. I freeze, quickly pulling away and I could see his body completely still and his eyes shut.

"JJ." I say. "JJ. JJ? JJ. Please, JJ. Please answer me!" I sob, shaking his body but he's limp. "No!" I cry out. "No! No! No!" I sob loudly as hug his body. "No!" I scream in internal pain as I cry against his skin.

I don't even realize it when the others come running over and crowd JJ and me. I don't. I'm completely in my own world as I sob in utter pain and sorrow. He was gone. He was dead. JJ was dead.

The man who, yeah, I planned to live in a nice Kook house with, with dogs and our own kids, was dead. Sure, I knew that would never happen but I was okay living the life we already lived, as long as it meant that I was with him.

What was I going to do without him? What was I going to do? He was all I wanted and now, I could have him no longer. JJ was the only one who really fully understood me. The only person I ever fully opened up to. I couldn't imagine being like that with anyone else and he was gone. Gone.

Sure, he made some stupid choices and sure, he didn't have the best life but that never mattered to me. I knew that all too well. I could never judge him for it. I'd always love him despite that.

Maybe I should've known that this day would come. I probably should've. Maybe in the back of my mind, I did know. If it hadn't been today it likely would've been another day. Especially with the way things were going leading up to this day.

I should've known that nothing lasts forever.

THE END

[vaspider]

So, something happened last night that has been sitting heavily on my heart ever since. I'm not naming names for a reason, so don't ask. This is a clear example of something that's happened with increasing regularity.

When the Amsterdam attacks started happening last night, the first thing I thought of was a pair of my friends who had within the last 48h - I thought - been in Amsterdam to get married. (I got the place they traveled to wrong, bc it was late and I was tired, but that's not the point.) These friends are a Black frum Czech lesbian & her new wife, an in-progress convert who's seriously ill. I shared the CNN link on it & spoke with friends on a very small Discord server about how terrified I was that my friends had (again, I thought) narrowly missed being in the city while Jews were being advised to stay inside and, if they had to go out, to remove any visible symbols of their Jewishness.

Here's where I reach up and underline the word frum in that previous paragraph. Got it? Asking that friend to remove her visible signs of being Jewish is like asking her to go outside naked.

And here's the thing that's gonna stick with me for a long time: someone that I used to consider a longtime friend, who rarely, if ever, spoke on that server, popped up almost 4 hours after I was talking about how much this scared me about the relative safety of my friends to share a tweet containing the phrase Judeo-Nazis in order to contradict the CNN article and bring up what she apparently thought was the important part of the story:

"The Israelis started it," according to her & her "Judeo-Nazis" source.

That was what she thought was important to that story. Not that random fucking Jews are getting attacked on the streets of Amsterdam, not that I was relieved that my friends weren't in danger while still dealing with the fear and the shock of feeling they had been so close to it, but that I had to know, right away, that contrary to what CNN (and every other major news outlet talking about it) was reporting, this random person on Twitter referring to Israelis at a fucking soccer game and random visibly Jewish people of any nationality on the street in Amsterdam as Judeo-Nazis said that the Israelis fucking started it.

And like, no, they fucking didn't, but in context, the context in which I was speaking in a small group about my fear for two friends who weren't at the fucking soccer match but who I thought might be close to the danger, does that fucking matter? What does that have to do with "fuck, I think my friends were just there"?

Nothing. And yet - for some reason - that's the first thing that needed to be addressed in this person's mind.

A lot of Jews find our circles shrinking these days. Antisemitism is on the rise, and if we're not experiencing the direct slap in the face of people we thought were friends prioritizing "you know, the Jews started it" over anything else, we're watching people we thought better of make excuses for it, or tell us that we should gladly accept "our share" of the blame for the actions of a foreign government. (Yes, that has been said to me directly, recently.)

If I weren't so fucking stubborn, I would fold into myself & just keep company with the few and the trusted, a circle that gets smaller and smaller every day. But... I'm stubborn as hell. Maybe that'll fuck me over someday worse than it already has, I dunno.

I don't have a pithy closing for this. I'm just sad. It hurts to watch people that I used to trust vomit up shit like that tweet. It hurts that it's getting worse.

[carbondioxidewater]

Make A Move (Pt. 3)

americanfootballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word count: 3k

(-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 2) (-> masterlist)

A small gift bag in your hand, you're currently on your way to the football field. You figured it would only be fair to thank Sukuna for his help last thursday. All of your classes were over for the day and after your talk with Utahime - you had a lot of explaining to do after all - you found out that the team had training in this exact period.

Because Utahime is a senior tutoring juniors occasionally - as she had the best score in the mathematics exam last year - she knows about their schedule through a guy named Aoi Todo, who is also in the football team and simultaneously one of those juniors she tutors. You don't know how she keeps up with her own studies, considering she has that minijob at the hotel AND is a tutor on top of that. But she had always been a very determined woman and luckily, she only tutors every few weeks.

When you arrived, the team was just getting ready to start. You looked around the area to find that distinct pink haired guy you were here for and when you thought you had found him, he turned around and didn't have those typical tattoos on his face. You were utterly confused to say the least, when all of a sudden you heard a deep voice from behind you.

"Looking for me in your free time?"

You turned around and Sukuna gave you a smug look.

"Actually, yeah." you admitted and his face turned into a stunned one. He didn't expect you to be so blunt about it.

"I just came to give you that." you added and reached him the small bag.

"What's that?" he asked, mustering it before reluctantly taking it into his hands.

"Just a small thank you for last time." you crossed your arms behind your back and looked up at him, a genuine smile adorning your face. At this sight, he gulped. He examined the gift closely, slowly removing its content. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the chocolate in form of a football, his mind went blank.

"You got this for me?" he quizzed, taken aback by the kind gesture. You couldn't help but chuckle, a small bluff following.

"No, I actually got it for the other pink haired boy over there." And with that, you turned around and pointed at the man you had mistaken for Sukuna a few moments ago.

"'The other pink haired boy?'" he repeated with an amused grin. "Don't tell me you don't know him."

You shook your head.

"I don't. Why would I?" you doubted to which he responded in disbelief.

"Because he's one of the best players of our team?"

"I don't really concern myself with football or who plays it." you confided to him, causing Sukuna to drop his jaw in a state of shock before closing his mouth again in a moment of realization.

"You knew who I was though." he then stated.

"Yes, because you're a well-known womanizer." you rolled your eyes. He just laughed.

"If I am, then why aren't you all over me?"

"I'm resistant to boys like you." you shrugged your shoulders.

"Really? How are 'boys like me'?"

"Let me think." you pretended to be serious, getting into the thinker pose. "Arrogant, insufferable, boring, nasty..." he nodded at every word, occasionally raising his brows amusedly but letting you speak. Sukuna couldn't hide his entertainment, you were truly something else.

"You think so?" He came closer. "Then why did you give me the chocolate? You sure you're not crazy about me, sweet thing?" he smirked and that startled you for a moment, but you composed yourself again.

"Don't flatter yourself. You know it's not like that."

"A man can dream." he sighed and held up his hands in retreat, eyes closed. Once again, you felt your face heating up, when suddenly some of the players on the field headed your way.

"Yo, Sukuna! Hurry up, before you're late again!" someone screamed while coming up to the two of you.

"What do you mean again? I'm never late for training!" Sukuna hissed at him. Then the guy was already next to you, though on the other side of the fence.

"And what happened on thursday?" he asked him to which Sukuna kept silent. Your mind went to work, catching onto his words.

"What happened on thursday?" was your next question, curious because on that day, Sukuna helped you out.

Then another guy followed after the first, answering your question. It was the one that looked so similar to Sukuna.

"He was one hour late to our meeting, delaying the bus drive and our whole timetable and all!" The kind looking boy unfolded and now that he was closer to you, he looked like a boyish version of Sukuna, who was rather mature in contrast. His words left you speechless though, Sukuna prioritized your safety over football? You couldn't believe your ears.

"Yeah yeah yeah, and now I'm never hearing the end of it." Sukuna complained while the others laughed at him.

"Deserved." The black haired one said.

Then Sukuna took the opportunity to introduce you to each other, exposing the one with the black hair as Todo and the other one as Yuji. The two seemed to be extremely surprised at Sukuna's action for whatever reason, stammering sceptically while greeting you.

But that was not what caught you off guard, it was the way your name rolled off Sukuna's tongue. Now that you heard it slipping from his lips, you noticed you don't reckon telling him your name, so how did he know? You instantly glanced at him and when you did, he already met your gaze, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Anyways, hurry now or we're starting without you!" the two boys exclaimed to which he responded with a simple "I'm coming, dammit!", walking after them while all three of them grinned.

And with that, the athletes said their goodbyes. You returned, leaving slowly but surely. Sukuna, though, halted for a split second, calling out your name once more. He was definitely doing this on purpose.

"Hey! We're not done with that conversation!" he shouted and you inwardly agreed, wanting to confront him about the new found information that was revealed to you.

"Is that a threat?" you screamed back and he beamed at you.

"It's a promise!"

And then he turned around, running after his teammates. You couldn't help but start growing a wide smile yourself.

In the distance, you could see them teasing Sukuna about something, but you couldn't catch their voices.

It was the next day and you were sitting in your linguistics class that was about to start in a few minutes, busy reading through the endless pages of text you were supposed to read at home. Thankfully, your lecturer was not there yet, but you still cursed yourself for not starting earlier, positive that you wouldn't finish reading it in time.

Focused on skimming through the text, you jumped when suddenly someone plumped down the seat right next to you. It couldn't be your friend who typically sat there, because she was sick this week. Of course, it was Sukuna.

"Can you stop doing that?" you hissed, still recovering from the shock.

"Where would be the fun in that?" his pearly whites flashed you.

"Why are you even here? Mixed up the classes?"

"Nah, but we have unfinished business."

"So you thought this was the right place and time for that?" you remarked sarcastically, but he replied with a careless "Yeah."

Shaking your head, you took a quick look at the time before taking the opportunity to confront him.

"Why didn't you tell me you had to be somewhere else on thursday? I would have been fine. I hope you didn't get in trouble..."

Finally talking about what left you nosy after yesterday's events, you wondered if he didn't have any classes himself. But that shouldn't bother you. You've had a hard time doing your homework and falling asleep the previous night due to Sukuna's selfless act, unable to stop your mind from wandering to said topic. You truly wouldn't have expected that from him.

"You know my reasons already, it was my decision. It was nothing your little gift couldn't have fixed." he flirted and you puffed. "I texted them I had to take care of something first and in the end, we still won. None of them was actually mad at me, so don't worry about it." he assured you and that soothed you a little.

"Next time, I'm declining your offer." you informed him.

"Next time, I'll make sure you're at the game then. Can't keep me from the game when you're at it." he smirked and you sighed. He was so annoying.

"I already told you I'm not into football."

"Yeah, about that...that has to change. Can't let you walk around not knowing who the heroes of our campus are." he exaggerated.

"Speaking of which, how do you know my name?" you finally had the chance to ask him that.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Maybe I should leave it to you to figure it out, like you did to me." he suggested, referring to you lying about sharing a class with him when you first met. The puzzled look on your face was enough for him to break out in laughter.

"But I'm not cruel like that. I know Utahime from Todo, I just didn't know she had a roommate. So when I asked him about it, he remembered your name from some of her stories. He didn't know who you were though."

So you both used the same method, the same opportunity to find out about each other? What are the chances?!

"You know Utahime?" Those were news to you. She would have told you if that was the case, you were sure of that.

He shook his head.

"Not in person, I just know she tutors Todo."

"You're unbelievable." you were shocked that he put so much effort into getting to know you.

Everything you've learned about Sukuna in the past few weeks truly surprised you. You thought he was just a big asshole that only cared about himself and had a shallow personality, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized you actually felt somewhat comfortable in his presence. Not that you would tell him that, of course.

"I know." he winked. "So, what do you say? You coming to my next game this weekend?"

"Didn't you have a game last weekend already?" And in that moment, your professor barged in.

Shit! You haven't finished reading the text yet!

"Oh you have a lot of learning to do. We have one every week of the season."

But before Sukuna could carry on his lecture on football, you tried convincing him to give you this lesson another time, internally stressed about your still due obligation of reading the text. But he was stubborn, not willing to comply until you pledged to come to his game this saturday.

The loud discussion in the otherwise so quiet room has ultimately drawn the attention of your lecturer, who quickly noticed that Sukuna didn't belong in this class.

"Mr. Sukuna, aren't you in the wrong place?" the professor voiced.

Sukuna apologized, claiming he only needed a minute before turning back to you again, everyone's eyes on the scene in front of them now. The lecturer was taken aback by Sukuna's boldness, but seeing as the period hasn't even started, he let it slide.

"Please, go already!" you pleaded whisperingly, shoving him a little but he didn't back down just yet. Thankfully, both the professor and the students started preparing for class, the noise slightly concealing your conversation and taking the focus from you.

"I'm not leaving until you promise me to come."

He pushed and you gave in, not daring to face the consequences if you didn't, and especially not wanting to make this situation even worse let alone hold up the whole class.

"Okay, okay! I'm coming! Now go!" And Sukuna grinned.

"That's what I wanted to hear, princess." he moved closer towards you, his lips right next to your ear. "Keep a lookout for number 9, he'll score the winning goal." he whispered deeply and finally stood up, excusing himself.

You let out a breath you didn't know you held and noticed some girls shooting daggers at you. You almost forgot how popular Sukuna was and that made the whole scenario the more embarrassing for you. It was in that moment that you realized what it meant to be around the campus heartthrob Ryomen Sukuna.

Home. Finally home!!!

You thought the day would never come to an end when during all of your classes, Sukuna occupied your every thought. You didn't know what to feel, you knew he was this big ladykiller who you'd never involve yourself with usually, though at the same time, he was caring and attentive and easy to talk to.

You discarded your bag into the corner of your room and freshened up a little. Shoko would come over soon and together with Utahime, the three of you would have a long due girls night again. Movies and gossip with your two best friends - what could be better.

All of you were sitting in Utahime's room now, you didn't have a living room because your apartment consisted of only two rooms plus a bathroom and a kitchen. You didn't complain though, you were already lucky enough to have two separate rooms, many dorm members have to share one.

Shoko was even luckier and lived alone. You always switched between meeting at Shoko's place and yours. Although Shoko didn't have a big apartment, her bedroom was kind of small, so she visited you more often than you visited her.

You were in the middle of telling them the tea and they already tried to persuade you into thinking that Sukuna was interested in you. You just rolled your eyes.

"It's NOT like that! Trust me!" you insisted, but they didn't sound convinced.

"He invited you to his game?" Shoko promted.

"And didn't back off until you said yes?" Utahime's mouth fell wide open.

"I don't know, this all sounds pretty much like it is to me." Shoko was certain.

"I'm not sure, he's really nice and to be honest, different from what I thought." you admitted.

"Just be careful. His reputation speaks for itself. Don't let him fool you." Utahime then added.

"Don't worry, I won't." you sighed.

"Maybe he's just the type of guy who gets off on your 'unreachable' demeanor." Shoko wondered, tapping her chin with her finger. Your face cringed at the thought.

"Even if, it's not like I don't know better than to be cautious. I'm not playing into his game and I'm definitely not going to be one of his conquests. I could never see myself being involved like that with him." you declared confidently.

It was true, you wouldn't fall for his advances, you weren't naive. Maybe you've doubted it for a split second, but you always knew what his goals probably were. And you were thankful for your girls for reminding you.

"It's for the best, really. He is really attractive, but his reputation is just not it. If he ever makes a serious move on you, please run." Utahime concluded, disguising her sincerity with laughter. You could read her like a book however and knew she just deeply cared about you.

"I can't go alone to the game though. Are you by chance free on saturday and would join me?"

"What type of question is that, it was crystal clear from the beginning that we would come with you! Excuse me?" Utahime announced, seemingly offended and you all broke out into laughter.

Oh, how you loved your friends.

A few days before the game, you walked to one of your classes again. This time, you were prepared. You had read the text at home and the phenomenon 'Ryomen Sukuna' didn't distract you from it. You were on your way into the building when you saw a big bus in the parking lot in front of it. It was unmistakably for the football players, you saw Sukuna and his team in the distance. Suddenly, someone bumped into you.

"Oh shit, sorry! Hey, I know you!" It was Yuji.

"Oh, hi! Are you on your way to the bus?" you asked him.

"Yeah! We have an away game again this week!"

"Oh yeah, I know, I'll be there! Good luck!"

"Oh you will? That's nice! I hope you'll enjoy our game then!"

"Thank you! By the way, I'm sorry for interrupting your training last time. I could see you and your friend were quite irritated." you scratched your head in agitation. Yuji seemed confused.

"Hm? Oh! No, sorry if we left that impression! It wasn't you, it's just that Sukuna never really introduced a girl to us before! That was strange!"

What?

His words shocked you. You wanted to know what he meant by that, after all, Sukuna had something going on with a lot of girls already. But before you could consult him, he already set off.

"Oh shit, I have to hurry up, they're already getting inside the bus!" he stressed.

"Oh, yes of course! Uhm, please tell Sukuna good luck from me. A-and the rest of the team too of course!" you passed the message on to him.

"Will do!" he beamed at you and ran off. He was so fast that it didn't take him long to reach the bus.

In the background, you could see Sukuna looking at you through the window. He was already in the bus, his chin in his hands when he winked at you. You winked back.

Great, you thought, you successfully failed keeping Sukuna from your thoughts.

Here's part 3!!! Wasn't content with it for a while, and I've been busy. But now I like it! Omg omg so excited for all the ideas I still have for this story. Next part will be about the first game we're at! Sukuna in action (WOHOOO)! Let me know what you think! <3

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus @silkija @sad-darksoul @joh-ahae @weareundead

[cazort]

I agree with this criticism, but I think he leaves out some important parts of it.

A huge part of why the working class is fleeing the Democratic party in droves is that leftist discourse has resorted to classism as a way of attacking, bullying, and silencing its political opponents.

You started to see this first in fringe internet discourse in the early 2010's and it increased in frequency and become more mainstream in response to the shift to algorithmic feeds on mainstream sites (FB and Twitter, soon after others following) in 2011.

Basically what happens is that someone says the "wrong thing" and they get mobbed...it could be something harmless like using old terminology to refer to trans people ("FtM", "MtF", "became a woman / became a man", etc.) or it could be something harmful in subtle ways but dependent on context and perhaps not even immediately apparent to the person speaking it (i.e. "I want applicants to be judged on merit or qualifications alone." / "That (black) person is so articulate." / "That woman is so bossy." etc)

And people FLIP SHIT on them.

And here's the thing...this sort of bullying behavior directed at people saying "politically incorrect" things, i.e. what people call "social justice culture" or "wokeism" is little more than a form of classism.

Because who knows how to say all the right things? Educated people. People who are more intelligent and who don't have any learning disabilities. People who have more time on their hands. People with an easier life, people who aren't working 2 jobs or struggling to make ends meet or caring for a child on top of working a full-time job or more or doing full-time job on top of school. People who are more well-connected, whose friends already use the right language and can correct them politely in private before it blowing up into an incident.

Picture you're some poor person from some tiny town in West Virginia. Your parents say racist things, all your friends say racist things, and you might actually be the least racist person you know and then you come online or you come into the big city and you say something that would be seen as outright progressive where you're from, and suddenly everyone is berating you and condemning you and jumping down your throat.

Now picture you're some wealthy person who grew up in a wealthy suburb of a big city. Your family is educated. You know how to say the right things without offending people. Your friends correct you. You might be deeply racist, but you know how to express your viewpoints so subtly, so indirectly that it doesn't push the buttons of the leftist SJW's. You might even openly support movements like BLM, but then you turn around and support deeply-racist policies like the status quo of school funding by municipality, and high-tax-base suburbs with low tax rates and high city services while black people live in low-tax-base, high-tax-rate municipalities.

And then you turn around and look down on that West Virginia guy who said the wrong thing on Twitter or the wrong thing in some work meeting.

This is the classism of the Democratic party. This is why Trump won in a landslide.

I want people talking about it yesterday. I want people talking about it 10 years ago. I was talking about it 10 years ago but almost no one was listening to me. I want to scream at all of you who ignored me, and shake you. You were all wrong and I was right.

Listen to me now.

We can defeat the Trump movement but we ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO start by examining ourselves first. There is no other path. We cannot win by brute-forcing our way out. The Trump movement already has a majority of support among voters and has been growing in strength as we fail to address these issues.

We have to examine our own classism and we have to break it down, and then we have to reach out and apologize to the people who have been wronged by it. We need to unify behind leaders who publicly reject cancel culture and publicly reject classism.

And I don't just mean Bernie here. Bernie's statement is good but it's not good enough. It doesn't verbalize everything that I've said here. I just expressed a whole other level of classism that I think is getting closer to the heart of things. Other people may have even more things to add, that I missed.

But please, start talking about this stuff. We need to build a new consensus around these things and we need to start identifying and rejecting the classism in leftist thought. And then apologizing to, listening to, and bringing back in all the people we have shut out and excluded. Yes, that means even the people who say problematic things here and there. I don't mean to include people who are adamantly shouting egregiously bigoted things. I mean that we need to apologize for the way we have overreacted. I mean that we need to exercise restraint, de-escalate. And when we do see bigotry, we need to refrain from using classism as a way to bully the people voicing it. We need to cleanly separate the bigotry and make pointed criticism of the bigotry without putting down the person voicing it.

As Christians say "hate the sin not the sinner". Seriously, it does work.

Source

The scalding reality

[bekkachaos]

I wish I didn't linger on every thought

8x06 coda | 700 words

Buck goes to Eddie's so he doesn't have to be alone. They don't really talk, but they don't really need to. aka, a continuation of the final scene in 8x06

Eddie didn't get up to turn the music off, in fact he was quite enjoying it. He never really played music around the house and it had been far, far too quiet lately.

As he leant back he turned his head to look curiously at Buck. He looked like someone had dropped him in cold water and put him out on their doorstep. Then there was the way he had already finished his beer when Eddie was only halfway through.

He took another bottle from his six pack and held it up, looking back at Eddie who just shook his head and gestured to his own bottle.

Buck sighed, cracking it open and taking another long swig.

"Slow down there," Eddie said, nudging Buck's knee with his own. "You only brought six."

He smiled like he was prompting Buck to do the same, but he didn't.

"I'm sure you've got one or two in the fridge," he said instead, sullen and monotone.

"Probably," Eddie said, putting his bottle to his lips.

He bobbed his head to the song as it played, taking in a deep breath and resting his head against the back of the couch. He was trying really hard not to feel guilty for taking a moment to feel joy, to do something silly and frivolous just because he could. It felt nice, and he was going to lean into that. He had to.

He turned back to look at Buck, now with his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers peeling at the label on the bottle in his hands.

"You... want to talk about it?" he asked, watching the way Buck's lips tightened as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"No, not really," Buck said in that same listless voice.

He turned his eyes to Eddie, and god they were so sad. Eddie thought that maybe there might have already been tears, or that they were so glassy because he was desperately trying to hold them in. He knew when to push and when to just let him be though.

If Buck wanted to talk then he would (usually it was impossible to get him to stop), but that didn't seem to be what he needed right now.

Buck's eyebrow cocked slightly as he gave Eddie a once over look.

"Do you?" he asked.

Eddie smiled, shaking his head and letting out a low chuckle.

"Nah," he said, taking in a steadying breath. "No I'm um, I'm good."

It might be the first time in a long time that he's said that and actually meant it.

"Good," Buck nodded, turning away from him and back to the disintegrating label at his fingers.

"You want to put a movie on or something?" Eddie offered.

He didn't mind just sitting there with Buck, but he seemed like he could use something to take his mind of whatever seemed to be revolving around in his head, not to mention some company.

"Yeah," he said, lips growing soft in the corners. "That sounds good."

"Any suggestions?" Eddie asked, and Buck turned to look at him.

"Risky Business?" he said, completely straight faced.

Eddie just looked back at him a moment, holding his eyes until he saw just the hint of a sparkle, and his lips pulled up in a smile.

It was a shadow of his usual one, but it was there, it was enough to let Eddie know that he was okay, just hurting.

Eddie let out a laugh and shook his head.

"Alright wise guy," he said fondly, getting to his feet with a groan and reaching for the rest of the beers at Buck's side. "Give me those, I'll put them in the fridge, you just pick something."

He started walking towards the kitchen when he heard Buck's voice call him back.

"Hey Eddie?"

He turned, resting one hand on the wall and looking over at him with eyes that answered his soft question.

"Can I crash here tonight?" he said, eyes crinkling in the corners. "I just... kinda don't want to go back home."

Eddie's smile was warm, feeling. Seeing Buck so in need of comfort left a tugging sensation in his chest.

"Couch is all yours, anytime. You know that."

Buck let out a sharp sigh and Eddie watched just a little bit of relief flood over him.

"Thanks," he said.

Eddie just gave him a nod, watching for a moment as Buck reached for the remote before going to put the beers away, and check that he had enough in the fridge in case Buck needed just a little more.

[madlori]

Sometimes the delulu IS the solulu.

After some thought, and reading a lot of really insightful thoughts here and on Discord, I think I've reached a conclusion.

I'm going full tinhat. Not in an unhinged way, though.

I don't think this is the end.

I'm not going to count on it. I'm barely going to hope for it. But I am going to...keep an eye out for it.

The one common refrain we've heard from each other is that this did not feel like a permanent breakup. It felt so obviously and blatantly like a setup for Buck to fight for the relationship. It was that "one partner freaks out a bit and the other has to show their commitment" relationship hurdle which is so common it's a trope. In fact, most of us assumed that's just what it was...until those interviews

Now, I do not put Tim Minear up on some kind of pedestal of writerly greatness - far from it. And he did not write this episode, but the plotlines all go through him.

BUT.

He has always been very attached to Tommy as a character and to this relationship. He loves it. He loved red string theory so much that he wrote it into this episode. And I'm about halfway convinced he's in love with Lou but that's beside the point. (I mean, we get it, Tim.)

Tommy's what he always said he wanted to get for Buck. Firefighter, integrated into the 118, yadda yadda, we've been over this a lot. Someone he chooses, someone he works to build something with. Someone who shows up for him. He had Buck SAY in this episode that he'd never felt like this since Abby.

The thread of Tommy wanting a found family like Buck's. The intense settled/caregiving vibe of 8x05. It all felt so...purposeful. And yes, I agree that this could have been done just to punch up the angst for Buck when it ends. But that's not the only explanation.

The many, many comments of wanting to move Buck along in his personal life. Oliver wanting to do settled, domestic storylines with him. Giving Tommy the big hero romcom entrance in that hospital.

And what now? Cycle Buck through another love interest? It's hard to imagine recapturing what he had with Tommy with anybody else, or for the GA to embrace it as much as they did. What little we can see of the GA reaction (because the official socials are weirdly quiet and have not posted) is that they're not happy about this. Tim knows this.

I can buy Tim making some dumb writing decisions but he's not stupid. I find it very hard to swallow that he'd voluntarily toss away all this, and this potential, and what they'd already established, and a pairing/character/actor he loves, for what? For nothing.

So I think that it's not for nothing.

I think the plan IS to reunite them...

...they just don't know when, or how.

For some reason he wants to give it a break for awhile. I don't know why. There could be off-camera reasons. But I think it happened recently. Two weeks ago we got interviews talking about hurdles being overcome, relationships deepening, etc etc. It's a great episode for them, came out of Oliver's mouth. Not important, not consequential - great. And hey, what happened to that very important Bobby conversation where he gave Buck important advice? It wasn't there.

I think a change was made in the last two weeks. And yes, I know the loft stills were dated 9/17.

Two weeks is plenty of time to reshoot one scene, between when those interviews came out and last night. The stills could be from the first time it was shot, in September. Put the guys in the same wardrobe, we'd never know the difference, or that those stills weren't from the scene we actually saw.

OR

The scene was always the one we saw, but was always meant to be temporary, and the change was in how they talked about it in the interviews from last night. That is a simpler explanation, as it doesn't involve reshoots, but it doesn't explain those very incongruous interviews we got two weeks ago that do not match the scene we saw. Now, they have always vagued it up, and talked around things in interviews, but this was an entirely new level of misdirection and outright lying that isn't typical.

I'm really tinhatting it up now, but hey, what have I got to lose? I'm not investing anything in this. It's just...a thought.

If you think the network interfered (I don't, at least not for plot-related reasons, see below) or Oliver demanded the relationship be cut (I don't - I know lots of you are mad at him but I'm not), whatever it was...I just get a vibe. It could be as simple as money. It could be a ratings thing. Honestly? It could be that they've found out they're getting cancelled, and were ordered to cut bait on guest stars. They could be kicking the can down the road to goose ratings for spring when they do bring it back. There are lots of reasons I can think of and probably more that I can't.

I read a thoughtful and reasonable post about how it was more or less a mercy killing to post those interviews - most showrunners like to keep viewers guessing and coming back, so for them to say definitely BT was dead meant it's really, really dead (although how definitive they actually were is another question).

They might be right about that. I don't know.

Or they just might not know themselves. Even if the plan IS to reunite them eventually - if they don't have a plan for how or when, the safest course is to shut it down. No guarantees they can make it work, so play it safe. Oliver and Lou might not be looped in on this.

It's pretty thin. They probably would be, although we have ample evidence of actors not knowing stuff until the last minute. The other option is that they are looped in and are intentionally lying but I think that's very unlikely - although Lou has demonstrated a keen skill in keeping his mouth shut when necessary.

I'm not going to get nuts about this and neither should anybody else. I'm not going to be scouring socials or the internet looking for support or clues. I'm not going to be holding my breath waiting for a sign.

The only thing I'll keep an eye on is how they handle any flirtation or dating Buck does in the near future. How they handle it might be telling.

This is ALL very unlikely, let's be real.

I'm still tinhatting, though. Why not? What have we got to lose?

But if I'm right, I expect that red dodgeball in my inbox toot sweet.

(And Buddie still isn't going canon, btw.)

[louisferrignojr]

please don't disappear. please reach out.

i dont really know what to say because i'm still shocked and processing everything from the past ~ 24hrs.

the fact that every person involved in the shitfest that was 8x06 nearly got blood on their hands is making my blood boil. and that's only one person who i have been talking to every day. i can't stop thinking about other vulnerable queer people who are already struggling who might have been pushed past their breaking point all for the sake of some cheap fucking drama. because the world sucks so fucking much and you have one good thing to hold on to, one thing that brings you a little bit of happiness, and you lose that too.

please please please. stay alive.

i'll add more resources if i can find them - in the meantime, please reach out to someone, anyone. we are a good strong community and we will help each other.

and while I'm here - fuck every single person gloating and harrassing bucktommys and sending hate anons right now - I'm deleting all of them you sick fucks. this isn't about some stupid ship. i nearly lost someone i care about today. try to have a shred of empathy for your fellow human beings.

[seitmai]

Your eyes flick over him, taking in his nervous fidgeting. It’s endearing, really, the way he seems like he'd rather be anywhere but standing across from you. And maybe it’s because he's the polar opposite of the loud types, but you can’t help teasing him a little.

Endearing is just the perfect description for Bob 🥰

You can’t resist needling him just a bit more, leaning in just close enough to watch him fluster. You know the effect you have—the low neckline of your top, the tattoos trailing down your arm, the glint of your piercings just visible through the thin fabric. He’s doing his best not to stare, but his eyes flick down for a split second before he yanks his gaze back up, his face turning redder by the second.

🤭🤭🤭

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Well, let’s start with two beers for Phoenix and Bob. Can’t have ‘em dehydrating, right?” There’s a slight pause, and he gives you a smirk, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary. “Make sure Bob’s is extra cold—he’s, uh, still cooling off after the last time you talked to him.” You laugh, shaking your head as you start on the beers. “Don’t tell me he’s still flustered from that., it's been years.” “Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with you around, no matter the time,” Hangman says with a wink.

Oh Bobby 🥹

He pauses, rolling his eyes in that way he does whenever he brings up Rooster. “Rooster’s a beer guy, as usual. But let’s give him the lighter stuff. Don’t want him trying to prove anything tonight.”

Hahah this cracked me up 😂

“And what about you, Hangman?” you ask, tossing him a smirk. “Anything special, or do you just want a mirror to stare into?”

Perfect answer 👏🏻

You laugh, reaching for a row of glasses. “Let me see… Something tells me you could handle a little extra kick tonight.” You pour a round of tequila for Phoenix and Coyote, grabbing lime wedges and a sprinkle of salt for the rims.

The way I just know Phoenix and Coyote are gonna drink those tequila shots with the most sexual tension between them 🤭

He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Because I don’t think you’d waste your time with just any guy.” He holds your gaze, letting the words hang in the air, something challenging in his smile. “You seem a little… particular.”

I love how they have this verbal sparring going on

Phoenix snickers, sipping her tequila and watching the scene unfold like it’s her favourite soap opera. “This is priceless,” she mutters to Coyote, who nods, clearly entertained.

Oh they are having the best time, front row and all 😅

“Hey, Bob,” she says with a mischievous grin, “you’re awfully quiet over there. What do you think? Who’s got the better shot?” Bob’s eyes widen as every head at the table turns to look at him. He stammers, his grip tightening on his glass. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I, uh… I think she’d go for someone… respectful. Kind of… uh…”

He's like: oh please don't rope me into this 🫣

Bob just blushes harder, sinking a little lower in his seat as Phoenix pats his back in a show of support. “Ignore them, Bob. They’re just scared you’re the dark horse here,” she teases, sending Jake and Bradley a challenging look.

Oh I have a feeling Phoenix knows something the others don't 🤭🤔

Bob practically melts into his seat, but despite his obvious embarrassment, there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances at you.

👀👀👀

Bob’s leaning on the railing, doing his best to stay out of the spotlight as Jake and Bradley bicker, each too wrapped up in their little rivalry to notice you coming. Only Phoenix catches your approach, her eyes widening in excitement as she realizes what’s about to happen. She’s the only one who knows, after all.

Hehe I knew it 😌 maybe Jake and Bradley should just kiss each other, they already bicker like an old married couple 🤭

You can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of pure adoration in his eyes as he takes you in. Without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, his hand finding your waist as he pulls you in. His usual shyness fades as he melts into the kiss, his touch growing just a little bolder, like he’s letting himself savour every second.

🥰🥰🥰

Around you, the entire squad has gone silent. Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote are all staring, mouths slightly open in complete disbelief. But it’s not the kiss that has them in shock. It’s the glint of your engagement ring—hanging on a delicate chain around your neck, tucked just under the collar of your shirt. The light catches it as you pull back from Bob, and you see the realization dawn on each of their faces.

They are like:

🤯🤯🤯

Bob, still flushed from the kiss, shifts awkwardly as he catches sight of his teammates’ stunned expressions. He ducks his head, clearly overwhelmed by all the attention, but there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

He is just so cute 🥰

“Guess we kept it under wraps a little too well,” you say with a smirk, running a hand affectionately through Bob’s hair, watching as he blushes even deeper but relaxes into your touch. He looks at you with such genuine, quiet adoration that it’s impossible not to smile.

Urgh they are perfect together and Bob's blushing is just so cute 🥰

Rooster, still processing, lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Wow. And here I was thinking shy guys didn’t stand a chance.” Phoenix is practically beside herself with joy, and she can’t help but gloat just a little. “Well, guess what, boys?” You grin, crossing your arms. “Turns out all I wanted was the quiet one.”

Haha this is just perfect!! And Phoenix is reeling of joy, I know it 😅

The quiet ones

Summary: You surprise the Dagger Squad by revealing your secret to Bob, who shyly but lovingly melts into your kiss as the others watch in shock, as shy guys are your type.

Chapter Warning: Secret relationship reveal, unexpected PDA, and flustered teammates, drinking.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x reader

The sun is barely up, casting a soft glow over the empty beach outside The Hard Deck as you pull open the doors and step into the familiar dimness of the bar.

You've been doing this for years—unlocking before the heat of the day sets in, setting up stools, and sliding glasses onto the shelves with the smooth rhythm you've perfected. Today feels the same, but something in the air hints it won't be an ordinary shift. There's a buzz, the sort that comes with Navy missions brewing, whispered over drinks in tones low enough that only bartenders know how to hear.

You're wiping down the bar when the door creaks open. You look up and spot a guy with dark-rimmed glasses, a touch of shyness evident in the way he stands at the door, scanning the place like he’s about to get reprimanded just for being here early. He's tall but sort of unassuming, a guy who'd rather fade into the background. He's a contrast to the pilots who usually come in loud, all bravado and swagger. You recognize him instantly: Bob, the quiet one who stands at the edges of the Dagger Squad.

As he approaches, you give him a slow, easy smile and cross your arms, leaning back. "Hey there. Early start for you guys?"

He swallows hard, adjusting his glasses. “Uh…yeah. Just…getting a round for the squad.” His voice is barely audible, like he’s half-hoping you’ll mishear and let him walk away without much fuss.

Your eyes flick over him, taking in his nervous fidgeting. It’s endearing, really, the way he seems like he'd rather be anywhere but standing across from you. And maybe it’s because he's the polar opposite of the loud types, but you can’t help teasing him a little.

“So…who’s in charge of this little mission?” you ask, setting down a few glasses with a subtle clink.

He hesitates, caught off guard by the question. “Uh…Admiral Simpson.”

You chuckle. “Beau? That's my uncle."

Bob's eyes widen, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he stammers out a response. "Oh. Uh, wow. I… I didn’t know." The faintest blush creeps up his cheeks, and he looks down, almost embarrassed to be caught off guard like that.

You can’t resist needling him just a bit more, leaning in just close enough to watch him fluster. You know the effect you have—the low neckline of your top, the tattoos trailing down your arm, the glint of your piercings just visible through the thin fabric. He’s doing his best not to stare, but his eyes flick down for a split second before he yanks his gaze back up, his face turning redder by the second.

“Don’t worry,” you say with a smirk, letting your fingers trace the rim of a glass, “your secret’s safe with me.”

“Uh…thanks. I just—um, I’ll take…uh, the round,” he manages, his voice catching as you pour the drinks.

You can see his struggle—the way he wants to say something, but every time he opens his mouth, he clams up. He's never met anyone like you before, that’s obvious. The confidence, the tattoos, the piercings peeking through the fabric—it all ties together into something that leaves him completely off balance. And he’s… well, adorable.

As you slide the last glass across the bar to him, you give him a wink. “See you around, Bob. Bring your friends by sometime.”

He mutters a quiet “thank you” and shuffles out, beers in hand and cheeks flushed. And as he heads out the door, you can't help but grin to yourself, wondering if he’ll find the nerve to say more next time.

---

It’s a typical night at The Hard Deck, the bar buzzing with energy, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and rock music blaring from the jukebox. The place is packed with Navy types, just as it always is when there’s no active mission holding them back. You’re behind the bar, quick on your feet, sliding drinks to customers and catching up with the regulars. Then, through the crowd, you spot him.

Hangman strides up to the bar with that cocky swagger he’s famous for. Tall, blond, and all confidence, he’s got a grin that could charm the devil himself. And he knows it. Tonight, he’s dressed in his usual off-duty look—just tight enough T-shirt and a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the guy who doesn’t take “no” for an answer. But that’s the game he plays, and tonight you’re ready for him.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he drawls, leaning across the bar just a little too close. “Thought you’d be closed by now.”

You raise an eyebrow, resting your hands on the bar and meeting his gaze without flinching. “Well, I thought you’d be up in the air by now,” you shoot back, your tone teasing. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

He chuckles, clearly delighted by the challenge. “All right, you got me there,” he says, glancing around. “But I’ve got a list for you. The squad’s thirsty tonight.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” you say, pulling out a row of glasses, ready to work but giving him your full attention.

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Well, let’s start with two beers for Phoenix and Bob. Can’t have ‘em dehydrating, right?” There’s a slight pause, and he gives you a smirk, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary. “Make sure Bob’s is extra cold—he’s, uh, still cooling off after the last time you talked to him.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you start on the beers. “Don’t tell me he’s still flustered from that., it's been years.”

“Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with you around, no matter the time,” Hangman says with a wink. “But hey, he’ll survive. Next up, Coyote wants a whiskey—neat. You know how he is. And Rooster…” He pauses, rolling his eyes in that way he does whenever he brings up Rooster. “Rooster’s a beer guy, as usual. But let’s give him the lighter stuff. Don’t want him trying to prove anything tonight.”

You slide the beers across to him, already pouring the whiskey as he keeps going. “And what about you, Hangman?” you ask, tossing him a smirk. “Anything special, or do you just want a mirror to stare into?”

He laughs, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Ouch, darlin’. That one stings.” He places a hand over his heart, feigning offense before letting his gaze flick down to the line of tattoos trailing up your arm, then back to meet your eyes with a mischievous glint. “But as long as you’re the one serving, I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

You pour him a whiskey, sliding it over the bar with a raised brow. “Think you can handle it?”

He picks up the glass, holding it up to you with that easy, confident grin. “Oh, I can handle a lot more than that. But I like a bartender who can keep me on my toes.” He takes a sip, never breaking eye contact, letting the moment hang in the air.

The bar is still loud around you, but there’s a beat where it’s just you and him, his gaze heavy and flirtatious, yours daring him to keep going. He leans in a little closer, his voice a quiet murmur. “You know, we should get a drink somewhere else sometime. Just you and me.”

You lean back, letting a slow smile spread across your face, but truly this guy is not for you. “Oh, is that an invitation?”

“Consider it an open one,” he replies, giving you a wink before stepping back to gather up the drinks. “But hey, don’t take too long thinking it over. I don’t like waiting.”

It’s been a busy night, the bar still packed as the crowd buzzes with the kind of energy that only comes when there’s no telling when the next mission will roll around. You’re behind the bar, catching your breath after that last round, when you catch sight of Rooster winding his way through the crowd, headed straight for you.

He’s wearing his usual laid-back style—well-worn jeans, a vintage band T-shirt, and that aviator jacket slung over his shoulders. He looks like something out of a different time, especially with those sunglasses perched up in his curls, even though it’s night. Rooster always has this quiet, steady confidence, like he knows he doesn’t need to announce himself. And there’s something a little different in his step as he approaches you, maybe a touch of playfulness in the way he’s looking at you, a half-smile already curving on his lips.

“Hey, bartender,” he says, leaning onto the bar with an easy grin. “I’m back for the squad’s refills, but this time I think we’re changing things up.”

“Oh yeah?” You give him an amused look, resting your hands on the bar and leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Guessing Hangman finally realized he can order something other than whiskey?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, Hangman’s hard to change. But the rest of us? We’re open to suggestions. Figured you might know what we need better than we do.”

You raise a brow, sensing the tease in his tone. “Oh, so now I’m in charge of drinks? Guess I must be moving up in the world.”

“Better believe it.” He flashes you a quick grin. “But you still gotta keep me entertained while you’re at it.”

You laugh, reaching for a row of glasses. “Let me see… Something tells me you could handle a little extra kick tonight.” You pour a round of tequila for Phoenix and Coyote, grabbing lime wedges and a sprinkle of salt for the rims.

“Tequila for Phoenix and Coyote,” you announce, lining them up. “And… let’s do something different for Bob. A Moscow Mule might be more his speed—something smooth but not too strong, I know he likes it.”

“Perfect,” Rooster nods, his eyes catching on the way your hands move as you pour, clearly fascinated. “And what do you recommend for me?”

“Hmm,” you say, pretending to consider as you tilt your head, catching his gaze. “Something with a bit of bite, I think. Something… classic.”

You reach for the whiskey, but instead of neat, you add a twist of orange, pouring a well-balanced Old Fashioned. You slide it over to him, catching his eye with a smirk. “Think you’re ready for that?”

He picks up the glass, turning it slowly in his hand, that same lazy smile lingering on his face. “Only if you’re ready to join me for one sometime,” he says, his voice low enough to make sure you catch the hint. He takes a sip, and his gaze stays fixed on you, watching your reaction, clearly testing the waters.

You raise an eyebrow, not about to let him off easy. “And what makes you think I’d go for a guy who takes drink recommendations from the bartender?”

He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Because I don’t think you’d waste your time with just any guy.” He holds your gaze, letting the words hang in the air, something challenging in his smile. “You seem a little… particular.”

“And you think you’re up to the standards?” You tilt your head, leaning on the bar just close enough that he has to take in every word.

His eyes flick down to your arm, where your tattoos catch the light, and then back up to meet yours, a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “I think I’d be willing to try,” he says, his voice smooth, steady. “But I’ll leave it up to you if I get the chance.”

You shake your head, suppressing a grin, and reach for another glass, pouring yourself a splash of soda as you lean back. “How about you focus on delivering those drinks first, hotshot?”

Rooster raises his glass in a mock salute, his eyes never leaving yours. “Alright, boss,” he says, clearly amused. “But don’t think I’m letting this go that easily.”

He picks up the tray, balancing it with practiced ease as he throws one last look over his shoulder before heading back to the squad. You’re left behind the bar, catching your breath with a smile as you watch him go, knowing full well he’ll be back for another round—and maybe another shot at breaking through.

-

The Dagger Squad is clustered around a corner table, the drinks you just served scattered across the tabletop. Conversation and laughter flow easily, but the energy shifts the second Hangman and Rooster start eyeing each other, sizing each other up with cocky grins and sidelong glances. Bob, meanwhile, is trying his best to blend into the background, clutching his Moscow Mule and looking more than a little flustered as he watches his teammates' latest standoff unfold.

“You know, Rooster,” Jake drawls, leaning back in his chair and raising his whiskey with an infuriatingly smug smile, “you’re wasting your time here. She’s clearly more into a guy with… confidence.” He emphasizes the last word, smirking as he takes a slow sip, his eyes flicking over to the bar where you’re serving another customer.

Rooster snorts, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Confidence? Is that what you call whatever it is you do?” He shakes his head, trying to keep his voice casual, but the competitive gleam in his eyes betrays him. “Trust me, Bagman, she’s not going for the guy who struts around like a damn peacock.”

Phoenix snickers, sipping her tequila and watching the scene unfold like it’s her favourite soap opera. “This is priceless,” she mutters to Coyote, who nods, clearly entertained.

“Oh, please,” Jake fires back, unfazed. “You think that ‘slow burn’ routine of yours is going to win her over? Women don’t want to wait around forever. They like a guy who knows what he wants.” He casts another confident glance toward the bar, and Rooster follows his gaze, jaw tightening just slightly.

Bob, meanwhile, is turning a shade of red that nearly matches his squadmate’s call sign. He keeps his eyes firmly on his drink, but Phoenix catches the flush creeping up his neck and nudges him with her elbow.

“Hey, Bob,” she says with a mischievous grin, “you’re awfully quiet over there. What do you think? Who’s got the better shot?”

Bob’s eyes widen as every head at the table turns to look at him. He stammers, his grip tightening on his glass. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I, uh… I think she’d go for someone… respectful. Kind of… uh…”

Rooster grins, reaching over to pat Bob’s shoulder, his tone almost affectionate. “See, Bob gets it. A guy who’s not all in her face about it.”

Jake rolls his eyes, scoffing as he leans back. “Right. Because nothing says ‘charming’ like shyly staring into your drink.”

Bob just blushes harder, sinking a little lower in his seat as Phoenix pats his back in a show of support. “Ignore them, Bob. They’re just scared you’re the dark horse here,” she teases, sending Jake and Bradley a challenging look.

“Oh, is that it?” Hangman laughs, tipping his glass toward Bob in mock salute. “Tell you what, Bob—if she turns me down, I’ll let you take a shot.”

Rooster shakes his head, chuckling. “Sure, Bob. If Jake somehow fails—and trust me, he will—you’ve got my blessing.”

Bob’s face is now a deep shade of crimson, and he lets out a nervous laugh, clearly mortified. But he can’t resist glancing over toward the bar, where you’re moving easily between customers, completely unaware of the mini-drama playing out across the room.

“You know what?” Rooster says, straightening up and giving Jake a look that’s half-challenge, half-smirk. “Why don’t we let her decide who’s worth her time?”

Jake’s eyes narrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Fine by me, Rooster. May the best man win.”

Bob practically melts into his seat, but despite his obvious embarrassment, there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances at you.

-

You’ve been keeping an eye on the Dagger Squad from behind the bar, and you’ve caught enough of the banter to know they’re up to something. You can feel the weight of their stares now, so you decide to put them out of their misery. With a knowing smile, you grab a couple of fresh napkins and make your way over to the table, letting your gaze linger on one person in particular.

Bob’s leaning on the railing, doing his best to stay out of the spotlight as Jake and Bradley bicker, each too wrapped up in their little rivalry to notice you coming. Only Phoenix catches your approach, her eyes widening in excitement as she realizes what’s about to happen. She’s the only one who knows, after all.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say with a playful lilt, giving him a warm smile. His head snaps up, his cheeks turning an immediate shade of pink.

You can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of pure adoration in his eyes as he takes you in. Without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, his hand finding your waist as he pulls you in. His usual shyness fades as he melts into the kiss, his touch growing just a little bolder, like he’s letting himself savour every second.

Around you, the entire squad has gone silent. Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote are all staring, mouths slightly open in complete disbelief. But it’s not the kiss that has them in shock. It’s the glint of your engagement ring—hanging on a delicate chain around your neck, tucked just under the collar of your shirt. The light catches it as you pull back from Bob, and you see the realization dawn on each of their faces.

“Oh, my god,” Phoenix gasps, covering her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter as she watches Jake and Bradley try to process what they’re seeing. “No way. All this time, and she’s been with… Bobby?” Her eyes sparkle with pure delight as she glances back at you, unable to contain her excitement.

Bob, still flushed from the kiss, shifts awkwardly as he catches sight of his teammates’ stunned expressions. He ducks his head, clearly overwhelmed by all the attention, but there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“Wait…you’re with Bob?” Hangman says, still sounding completely baffled. He shakes his head, his usual confidence gone. “And you’re engaged?”

“Guess we kept it under wraps a little too well,” you say with a smirk, running a hand affectionately through Bob’s hair, watching as he blushes even deeper but relaxes into your touch. He looks at you with such genuine, quiet adoration that it’s impossible not to smile.

Rooster, still processing, lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Wow. And here I was thinking shy guys didn’t stand a chance.”

Phoenix is practically beside herself with joy, and she can’t help but gloat just a little. “Well, guess what, boys?” You grin, crossing your arms. “Turns out all I wanted was the quiet one.”

[anna-hawk]

Pardon my French

Michael “Mikey” Berzatto x Reader

Summary: You should never assume that the person you're talking about in another language doesn't happen to speak that same language. Rating: T | WC: 5.8k CW: none except my sense of humor, French-speaking reader, French, crack, fluff, meet-cute

Read it on AO3

The happiest of birthdays to my favorite person on here, @darlingshane. Amaya, I don't even know what I could say that I haven't already said 100 times. All I will say is that I love you from the bottom of my heart and that having you as a close friend has been a wonderful experience these past 4 years 🧡🧡🧡

This time, as a gift, I decided to go for Mikey, considering how much you've grown to love him. Your fics for him are some of your best, with “Salt of the Earth”, so I thought I could do a little homage. I was reading through a list of prompts for meet-cutes last month and this really spoke to me. Your Spanish reader fics were extremely fun, which was what inspired me and made me decide to make this into your gift. While I obviously can't write a Spanish reader, I thought you would enjoy something with a French reader instead.

✨Have fun and again, happy birthday!✨

Taking a left at the next street corner, you quickly hurried across the road when you saw the green traffic light for pedestrians. 

“You really suck, Caroline,” you grumbled into your phone, as the chill of November blasted a cold gust of wind into your face. 

Your cousin laughed before sighing deeply. “I know… Trust me, this was not what I had in mind for today either.” 

You sighed in turn as you glanced around for a place to head inside and warm up a bit. “How’s the fever?”

“It’s a bit lower. She’s sleeping for now.” 

“Good,” you smiled at the relief in your cousin’s voice. 

You had intended to spend the day together, but her daughter had come down with a nasty cold that had held both parents up for most of the night. 

“What’s the plan now?” Caroline asked right as you entered the nearest shop to get out of the cold wind. 

As soon as you were inside, you were met with the sound of shouting from the register as someone called out orders, while the delicious smell of homemade food hit your nose. 

“Getting something to eat,” you replied distractedly while taking in your surroundings. 

You hadn’t noticed what kind of establishment you’d entered, but since you hadn’t had breakfast that morning, and with the scents all around you, you figured that you could grab a bite. 

“Oh, where?”

“Dunno.” You looked around until you saw a white sign with green lettering. “The Beef… some small place selling Italian beef, apparently… Smells really good,” you added, as you walked up towards the small line at the register. 

“Yo, cuz, what’cha doin’ back there?” the man at the register bellowed to the back of the shop. “People fuckin’ waitin’ here. Get a fuckin’ move on.”

“Fuck you, Richie. You come back here if-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Will you calm the fuck down, yeah?” said another man, who was straightening from where he’d been looking for something under the counter next to the shouting one. 

Your eyes instantly slid to that man, taking note of the thick, dark hair on top of his head, the sharp jaw and the broad shoulders stretching out the shirt. 

“Ah, ben maintenant je sais pourquoi ça s’appelle The Beef, (Well, now I know why it's called The Beef),” you uttered into the phone, automatically switching to French to talk to your cousin, while giving the man a slow once over as you reached the front of the line. 

She laughed heartily and made a curious sound. “Pourquoi? (Why?)” 

“Hey, what can I get for you today, sweetheart?” asked the guy called Richie as he shot you a smile. 

You unfortunately had to look away from the other man and smiled as you looked at the sandwich list. 

“Hold on a sec,” you addressed Caroline. “Hey, hi… um… an Original would be good, thanks… and a soda, please.”

“Sure thing… want it to go or you stayin’?” 

“Not going back into that wind for a while if possible,” you stated fervently, which had Richie chuckling, while the dark-haired man snorted and nodded his head as he finished another order. 

“Right, that’ll be $8.50… Go have a seat. We’ll send someone out in a sec.” 

Nodding and quickly paying while Richie bellowed your order towards the back, you made your way to the two-person table that had the best vantage point on the register. 

“We’ll definitely have to come back here,” you stated to your cousin, as you sat down and removed your coat while you watched the dark-haired man smiling or shouting his way through the orders. 

“I think I’ve actually heard of the place. The name sounds familiar anyway. Family run business, I think.”

“Sure looks like it. From the way they keep freaking yelling at each other, it probably is.” 

“So… tell me more about this Mr. Beef,” she snickered. 

Switching over to your earphones to make eating easier while talking to Caroline, you made a more detailed description of the man’s features. 

A few minutes later, you sat up straight when you noticed him coming into your direction with your order. “He’s coming over, hold on.”

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he smiled, placing the sandwich and soda in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you grinned, hearing him calling you sweetheart having a wholly different effect on you than when Richie had said it. 

“Lemme know if you need anything else,” he requested, while pulling a rag out of his apron and walking backwards to the table next to yours. 

“Thanks. I’m good for now.” 

He nodded and turned around, which revealed his denim clad backside to you.

“Tu sais quoi? Je ne t’en veux même plus de ne pas être venue, (You know what? I'm not even mad you couldn't come anymore.),” you told your cousin, as your eyes fixed on the moving ass before you while the man cleaned the table-top.  

She snorted at your tone. “Et qu’est-ce qui te fait dire ça? (And what’s making you say this?)”

“Et bien… Il est en train de nettoyer la table juste à côté de la mienne… Et je peux te dire qu’il a une belle paire de miches**. C’est sur elles que j’aimerais manger cet Italian beef. (Well… He's cleaning the table right next to mine… And let me tell you that he has a gorgeous ass. I'd rather eat that Italian beef on that.)”

She burst out laughing this time. “T’es pas possible. (You're the worst.) ” 

You grinned at her laughter, while continuing to watch the man, who'd stopped for a second before resuming cleaning the table.

“Je les pétrirais volontiers celles-là. (I'd love to knead that.)” 

“Toi et tes blagues de bouffe. (You and your food jokes),” she wheezed, and you could easily imagine her shaking her head. 

You chuckled lightly and bit into your sandwich, which turned out to be delicious. You moaned your appreciation. 

“We're so coming back here,” you said with enthusiasm and took another bite. 

The man turned around and shot you an amused smirk, before walking up to your table and leaning slightly into your space.

“Et comme mes miches, tout est fait maison ici. (And like my ass, everything here's homemade.)”

Your mouth fell open and only reflexes kept the sandwich from slipping through your fingers as you stared at him in utter shock. He winked at you and began walking to the next room where other tables stood. 

“Oublie ce que je viens de dire… Je dois quitter la ville, (Forget what I said… I need to leave town.),” you said feebly, while staring after him and hearing him laughing at your words. 

“Hein? Pourquoi? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? (Huh? Why? What happened?)”

“Caro…” you whispered, still in shock. “Il parle français. (Caro… He speaks French.)” 

There was a second of silence, soon followed by your cousin's loud, screaming laughter coming through the earphones. 

“Qu'est-ce qu'il a dit? (What did he say?)” she gasped out in between peels of laughter. 

“Que, comme ses miches, tout est fait maison ici. (That, like his ass, everything here's homemade.),” you mumbled, while putting the sandwich down and hiding your face in your hands. 

She laughed even more, cackling through wheezing breaths. 

“I can't show my face here anymore,” you groaned, looking forlornly at your sandwich. 

“Was he angry? From what he told you, he didn't seem to be.”

“No… he looked amused. But that's not the point… I talked about kneading that man's ass right in front of him,” you moaned and shook your head. 

Caroline chuckled lightly. “At least you weren't badmouthing him.” 

You only hummed and folded up the sandwich. There was no way that you could eat this now. About to bemoan going back into the wind to escape your embarrassment, you heard your niece’s tiny voice calling for her mother. 

“Sorry, gotta go,” Caroline said hurriedly before speaking softly to her daughter. 

“No problem. Give her a big hug from me.”

“Will do… Keep me posted on the hot stranger situation.”

You snorted. “There's no situation at all. I'm gonna slink out of here and never come back.”

Caroline laughed softly. “Whatever… talk later.”

“Yeah, later.” 

You removed the earphones and placed them back into their case before checking your surroundings. How could you have been so stupid and run your mouth like that? Caroline was right, he didn’t look angry at all, but you’d rarely felt this embarrassed in your life. You quickly put everything into your bag and left a large tip on the table before getting up. As you put on your coat, you noticed the man standing in front of a wall as he checked the light fixture. Glad that he couldn’t see you, you were about to run out when something held you back. You bit over your bottom lip as you contemplated him and sighed deeply. 

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” you asked tentatively as you reached him. 

His head turned to you in surprise, before a large smirk appeared on his handsome face as he moved his whole body toward you. Damn, he really did look incredibly good. 

“What can I do for you?”

“Uh… well, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I hope I didn’t offend you or anything. I’m always the first one to tell people to be careful with speaking another language in front of others and not assume they don’t understand you, but here I was doing it anyway,” you said in a rush, glancing at him in between words while mostly avoiding direct eye contact. 

“Eh, don't worry, it's not like you were talking shit about me so…” he trailed off with a light shrug, while his grin never left his face. 

“Maybe, but still… I'm sorry.”

“Don't be…” He leaned in closer as he lowered his voice. “Ça ne me gêne pas. Surtout quand ça vient d'une aussi belle bouche que la tienne. (I don't mind. Especially when it comes from a pretty mouth like yours.)” 

Your eyes widened, while you felt your whole face warming again when his gaze dropped to your parted lips. That’s not what you had expected him to say. 

“Well,” you breathed, your eyes locking with his as he looked up again. “Good to know.”

You stood there, watching each other for a few seconds, before Richie’s voice boomed through the snack. 

“Hey, Cuz, Fak’s on the line ‘bout the fridge.” 

The man in front of you didn’t react except to briefly lift his eyes toward where the voice was coming from before looking at you again. 

“Mikey!” 

“For fuck’s sake. I heard you. Tell him I’ll call him back in a sec,” he called out irritably. 

You laughed to yourself at his annoyance at being interrupted, which had his attention returning to you. Shaking his head with a small grin and a sigh, he put his hands in the pockets of the blue apron.

“You leaving already?” he asked after a beat, as he noticed that you had your coat on and your table was cleaned off. 

You grinned inwardly at the word already, as if he was regretting seeing you leave sooner than he had expected. 

“Yeah… think I’ll just head home for the day. No weather for nice walks outside.”

Mikey only hummed in agreement and looked down with a small crease between his brows. 

“But I’ll be back,” you blurted out, which had him staring back at you with raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm… best Italian sandwich I’ve had… Need to have another taste and all.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he smiled, inclining his head to one side as he stared at you intently. 

You suddenly didn’t feel like leaving at all anymore, but sitting back down would seem weird now, right? He was obviously flirting with you, much to your surprised delight, yet you didn’t feel like coming across as too eager either. 

“‘Kay, then… I — uh — I’ll see you next time, I guess.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he smiled softly, while his gaze remained focused on you. 

“Right… bye, Mikey,” you babbled, finally taking a step back just when you saw him grinning at you using his name. 

“A la prochaine. (Until next time),” he replied, following you towards the front of the shop. 

Your name came through your lips like a reflex, and you would have felt embarrassed about that too had Mikey not smiled at learning it. When he repeated the goodbyes with your name this time, you left with a wide smile and barely felt the wind across your skin as you headed home. 

**The word ‘ miche’ stands for a loaf of bread, but it’s often used to refer to someone’s butt because, as you can guess, of its rounded form. Reader wants to "knead that dough". 

After that day, you had returned as promised. 

On the first time, they’d had a busy day, with the line far longer than the last time you’d been there. Mikey hadn’t been at the register, which had disappointed you, but you’d still ordered the same thing as last time. You hadn’t lied when you’d said that it was the best Italian beef you’d had. As you’d been about to walk to a free table, Mikey had come out of the kitchen with a large tray filled with orders. He’d stopped in his tracks as he noticed you and smiled brightly in recognition. Unfortunately, this had been the only interaction that day, since he’d had to return to the kitchen immediately. 

On your third visit, Caroline insisted on coming along. She told you that she wanted to taste the infamous Italian beef that people raved about at her job, but you knew that it also was to get a look at Mikey. However, like last time, he wasn’t at the register. She looked at Richie and then back at you with a raised eyebrow, but you only rolled your eyes at her. 

“Il a les yeux bleus, celui-là (This one has blue eyes.).”

“De très beaux yeux bleus (Very pretty blue eyes.),” she commented with a smile directed at Richie, as he asked for your order.

Caroline ordered a few different things to bring home a little later, while you went with the original as both other times. Richie yelled the order to the back as always, while he invited you to take a seat. 

“Maybe he isn’t in,” Caroline said as she looked around herself. 

You shrugged as you took a napkin and folded it in half. “Maybe.” 

You wanted to sound nonchalant, but you seriously hoped that he’d be around. 

A little while later, the kitchen door opened, with Mikey stepping through it while talking to the person behind him. With your direct view of the register, you noticed him immediately. At your sudden silence, Caroline turned to look as well, which had you hissing at her to not be so obvious. 

“What? I’m just checking where my order is,” she waved her hand around at you, and you huffed. 

Mikey was still talking while he lifted his eyes to stare around the shop distractedly, only to notice you and smile as he spoke. Your face heated, and you bit your bottom lip at the way he smiled at you. You saw him say something to Richie, who looked towards your table before pointing at an order. 

“So?” You heard Caroline ask, but you were too busy watching as Mikey picked up the order and walked towards you.

“Hey,” he said with a grin. “So, these two for now” — he placed a sandwich in front of each of you along with your drinks. — “and this to-go, right?” He put a packed order in the center of the table. 

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled. 

“Alors c’est lui, pas vrai? (So, that’s him, right?)” Caroline asked while staring at him, which had you making wide eyes at her and groaning softly. 

“Caro…”

Mikey looked at her with a lifted eyebrow, before glancing at you with a smirk. 

“Oui, c’est moi (Yes, it’s me.),” he replied easily. 

Caroline grinned and nodded her head. “Alors, tout est fait maison ici, c’est bien ça? (So, everything’s homemade here, correct?)”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, and kicked your cousin under the table. 

Mikey laughed heartily and nodded. “Oui, absolument tout. (Yes, absolutely everything.)”

“Great. Good to know,” Caroline shrugged and sat back casually, like she was just a satisfied customer. 

Mikey chuckled and looked back at you with a sly smile. 

“Anything else I can get you guys?” 

“Nope, we’re good, thank you,” you quickly replied before Caroline could jump in and embarrass you more. 

Mikey nodded with another small laugh and walked off with a “Bon appétit. (Enjoy.)” 

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed at your cousin, who had the gall to snort and roll her eyes. 

“I had to see if the man can take a joke, and he does.” She took a bite from her sandwich and groaned in satisfaction as she chewed. “Besides, the man already knows you find him hot… Which, you were right about, he’s a good-looking dude… But, I’ll take the yelling, blue-eyed one,” she added matter-of-factly after taking another bite. 

You snorted at her words. Caroline was married to one of the chillest men on this planet, and she loved the hell out of him. But she’d always had a thing for the loud ones. Except that it never worked out with them because of her fiery personality. She and her husband balanced each other out perfectly, though. 

“Still, you didn’t have to remind him of what I said,” you grumbled, biting into your own sandwich. “I was more hoping he’d forget about it.” 

Caroline snorted softly. “That first impression is gonna be unforgettable. But I really don’t think he minds that at all… The opposite, really.”

“Right…” You rolled your eyes and sipped from your drink this time. “He might have flirted with me last time, but it doesn’t mean anything. He was just being nice.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, while swallowing another bite and glancing at you with a smirk. “The attraction clearly does go both ways with how he can’t stop looking at you.” 

“What?” you asked in surprise and sat up straight in your chair. 

“He’s talking to customers a few tables over, and he’s looked at you at least ten times already.” 

You blinked at her at the revelation and ducked your head with a shrug. 

“Maybe he’s just looking at our table in general.”

“Yeah, right. I could be dancing around naked that he wouldn’t even notice it.”

This had you uttering a loud laugh of amusement, which turned into a small, pleased smile as you took in her words. 

“He’s coming back,” she whispered suddenly, having you jerking in your seat. 

“Ça vous plait? (Do you like it?)” he asked Caroline, although he glanced at you. 

“Aussi bon qu’on me l’avait dit. (As good as I was told.)” She nodded with a hum of approval. 

“Content de l’entendre… Et toi? (Glad to hear it… What about you?)” he glanced your way with a lifted eyebrow. 

“Délicieux (Delicious.),” you smiled, feeling your face warming as you saw your cousin watching the two of you with a smirk. 

Mikey nodded with a pleased smile and was about to say something when Richie called for him. He sighed. 

“Enjoy the rest of your meal,” he said and shot you a smile that was obviously only for you before he headed back. 

You followed him with your eyes until he vanished in the kitchen, which had you noticing Caroline’s lifted eyebrow that clearly said ‘told you so’.

“Could be dancing naked,” she repeated meaningfully with a smirk. 

Shaking your head at her with a small laugh, you went on eating the sandwich. 

An hour later, you left The Beef, but Mikey never came back from the kitchen. 

In the following weeks, The Beef became one of your regular places. It had everything to do with Mikey, obviously, however, as the weeks went on, you got into talking to the other people working there. The place was chaotic, with everyone running around and shouting obscenities at each other, but you quickly realized how deeply everyone cared about each other. Caroline, and even her husband, came along a couple more times. However, you mostly went by yourself. For the simple reason that Mikey would often come to your table and strike up a conversation whenever you went alone. 

You seriously enjoyed talking to him. He could be as loud and all over the place as the rest of the Beef’s staff, and flirt with you in a very obvious way, while he could also give off this more introverted and thoughtful persona. It was during the later moments that you talked the most, with Mikey sometimes sitting down at your table and talking about the most mundane stuff. You shared stories about your jobs and families, which told you that he also had a younger brother along with the younger sister you’d seen a couple of times. Watching her interact with the loud men in the restaurant, looking so sweet and calm, only to see her biting back if needed, had been an incredibly funny moment. 

Caroline was getting more and more frustrated with the two of you for not moving things along, though. However, you really didn’t care. Did you want there to be more? Yes, but you also genuinely enjoyed spending the time with Mikey the way that you currently were, despite how much you wanted to kiss him when he stared at you from under his eyebrows like he often did. Only time would tell, and you weren’t in any particular hurry. 

“Hey, Basic Beef. How’s it goin’ today?” Richie hollered as soon as he saw you. 

You chuckled at the nickname and walked up to him. Richie had taken to calling you that a few visits back after you’d been talking about your choice of order. He’d teased you about always taking the same thing and not being adventurous enough. To which you’d laughed and shrugged, telling him that you were okay with being a basic bitch. Richie had almost keeled over with laughter at your words, wheezing out the word Basic Beef. To no one’s surprise, Caroline had almost lost it after you’d told her the following day. These two got along far too well.

“Hey, Ducon. (Hey, Asshole),” you snorted and leaned against the counter. 

He grinned and turned towards the list of sandwiches with a hum of faked curiosity. 

“What will it be today?” he singsonged. 

“You’re such a dick,” you laughed. 

“Hey, Mikey,” Richie smirked, as he shouted to the back while maintaining eye contact with you. “Your girlfriend’s here.”

You groaned and shook your head, while you heard Mikey’s voice from the kitchen. 

“Hope you ain’t being a dick about her order again.”

Richie grinned at you, which had you fighting down the warmth rushing into your face at the fact that Mikey knew exactly who Richie was talking about. 

“Yes, he is,” you called out with a laugh to hide your embarrassment, knowing that the other customers could hear everything too. 

“She insulted me in French,” Richie threw back with mock outrage. 

“Serves you right,” Mikey said, stepping out of the kitchen with a wide grin directed at you. “Hey, Sweetheart.” 

“Hey,” you smiled. 

You saw Richie sighing and rolling his eyes at the two of you before moving towards the kitchen. “Guess I’ll be making that sandwich myself.” 

“God, you’re such a fucking drama queen,” Mikey snorted, while you laughed at Richie’s theatrics. “Can’t I just say hi?”

“That’s not sayin’ hi, cuz, that’s undressin’ her with your eyes.”

You almost choked on your spit, while Mikey closed his eyes as if praying for patience and sighed. “Why do I even let you work here?”

“Cause this place would come crashin’ down without me, asshole.” 

Mikey shoved him hard with a huff of a laugh and took a step back before looking at you and then back at Richie. 

“I’ll have that order out in two,” he finally said after looking at you again. 

“Uh, thanks,” you nodded, while Richie watched him with a raised eyebrow as Mikey made his way back to the kitchen.

Richie sighed again while you took out your wallet, and nodded at the customer who had just entered the place and was waiting behind you. Handing over the cash, your money was met by Richie waving it away. 

“Go have a seat, Love. It’s on the house tonight,” he said with a much softer tone. 

“Oh… Um, okay, thanks, Richie.”

“No problem,” he winked with a genuine smile. A smile that you returned easily. 

One thing had to be said about Richie; he might be loud and obnoxious most of the time, he was also a nice guy who you actually really liked. Putting everything back into your bag, you made your way to your usual table. 

As promised, Mikey was out with your order barely two minutes later. 

“There you go.” He placed everything neatly in front of you. 

“Thanks,” you smiled brightly, looking into his face. 

Mikey nodded and looked back towards the register and the kitchen with a tiny frown. 

“I — uh — I’m kinda stuck back there with preparing stuff for the weekend and-”

“Oh, uh, that’s okay. I know you can’t chat every time,” you cut in, nodding your head in understanding. You didn’t want him to feel bad about not coming out to talk if he was busy. 

“Yeah, no, I know, but I was kinda thinking…” he trailed off and looked down for a beat, sucking on his bottom lip. “Will you stay after we close?” he finally asked, looking at you from under his lashes. 

You blinked a couple of times at the unexpected question. “Oh… um, yeah, sure. Of course.”

“Yeah?” he smiled softly. “It’s gonna be” — he looked around the place — “another hour at least, though.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting. I can go pester Richie if I get too bored.”

Mikey barked out a laugh at that and nodded his head a few times. 

“‘Kay… See you later.”

You smiled in acknowledgment and watched him walk back, stopping next to Richie, whose eyes shot to you after a moment, but you quickly averted your gaze. Picking up your sandwich, you took a bite to stop yourself from looking up again. Your face felt warm as you thought about Mikey’s request to stay. That had never happened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what was going to happen. In any case, you could only imagine Richie grinning like a lunatic at Mikey informing him that you’d be staying. To distract yourself, you pulled out your phone and went through your various social media platforms while you ate and then sat out to wait. 

A little while later, you were reading through an article about a show you were looking forward to when Richie appeared at your side. 

“You can already go through to the back. Everyone’s left there, and I’m gonna finish with the couple customers left and close the front.”

“Oh, okay.” You got up and looked towards the kitchen. 

“Okay, listen,” Richie started, looking suddenly serious. “I know I’ve been givin’ you shit and all that about him, but truth is, Mikey’s been… kinda all over the place lately. But since you showed up, speaking French and all that… I’ve seen more glimpses of my best friend than I have in a while.”

You stared at him in surprise. That’s not what you had expected to hear. 

“Shit… I don’t wanna scare you off or anything. But… shit… Mikey, when he falls, he falls hard, yeah? And I can tell that you’re not some bitch out to hurt him or nothin’.”

You chuckled at his agitation. 

“Nah… I’m just some Basic Beef, remember?” you said softly. 

Richie snorted and nodded his head. 

“But seriously, thank you, Richie. I’m glad that he has someone looking out for him… But yeah…” You looked towards the door leading to the kitchen. “Mikey, he… I just really, really like him”, you stated with a smile that you knew revealed how smitten you were by the man. 

Richie nodded again with a small smile.

“Yeah…” He finally cleared his throat and waved towards the kitchen. “Right… Go ahead… And please, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, yeah? Remember, kitchen, sanitary measures.” 

You groaned and shoved at his arm. Now, that was what you had expected. “Don’t be gross, Jerimovich.” 

You heard him laughing as you walked towards the kitchen. 

Stepping through the door, you looked around at the rows of appliances, pots, and pans, while you hung your coat and bag on a hook near the staff door. As you moved to the deepest part, you found Mikey in front of the stove, with three large pots bubbling away on it. 

“Hey,” you said softly, coming to stand next to him with your hip against the counter as you faced his profile. 

Mikey lifted his head from one of the pots he’d been leaning over and stirring, his hair curling at the top from the steam. He beamed as he saw you. 

“Hey. Richie gone yet?”

“No, not yet. There was still a table left. He said he’d close the front and leave from there.”

Mikey looked towards where the front of the shop was, as if he could see Richie, and smiled.  

“Smells delicious in here,” you said after a second, staring at the insides of the pots. 

Mikey grinned. “Making the last batch of pulled pork and beef.” 

You made a long hum of appreciation at that, which had Mikey uttering a pleased chuckle. 

“Can I help you with anything?” you wondered, looking around yourself.

“Nah, I’m good. There ain’t much left to do except wait a bit, but…” he trailed off like earlier. 

You tilted your head in question. He was being incredibly tentative tonight, which was kind of cute. “But?” 

Mikey shot you a small glance and cleared his throat. 

“Just wanted to see you for a bit longer.” 

You ducked your head and smiled. While Mikey had flirted with you intensely over the last weeks, it had all been done in a lighthearted fashion. The interest had been genuine, but it had never been this open. This confession was raw and hit you straight in the heart. 

“Yeah? Well… While I love the food you guys make here, you know that’s not really what has me coming back every time.”

Mikey smiled warmly, before he smirked. “C’est mon cul, pas vrai? (It’s my ass, right?)”

“Ah non mais t’es pas possible, arrête. (Oh come on, you’re the worst, stop it),” you half groaned, half laughed while pushing at his shoulder. 

Mikey laughed heartily and caught your hand as he turned to face you fully. You looked into his eyes, filled with mirth, but also something so tender that it took your breath away. 

“Wanna know something embarrassing about me?” he asked in a soft tone. 

You nodded lightly, your heart in your throat and unable to speak with the way he was looking at you.

“J’avais déjà envie de t’embrasser le jour où on s’est rencontré. (I already wanted to kiss you on the day we met.)”

Your heart missed a beat before it started to beat faster. 

“Alors pourquoi tu ne l’as pas encore fait? (Then why haven’t you done it yet?)” you breathed. 

Mikey smiled and cupped one side of your face with a large and warm palm. “Bonne question. (Good question.),” he whispered, before slowly leaning in. 

Your eyes automatically fell shut when his lips met yours. It was a soft kiss, just his lips pressing onto yours, as if testing the waters. You lifted your hands to his waist, your fingers gripping at his t-shirt as you slanted your head in request for more. Mikey huffed out a small breath against your lips, and moved in closer, giving you what you wanted. His hand went to the back of your head, with the fingers sliding into your hair as he parted your lips with his. You moaned at the first, soft stroke of his tongue against your bottom lip, just grazing the skin teasingly before he delved in further. Your fingers tightened in his shirt as the kiss turned into something more. More intense. Hungrier. Leaning against the stove, Mikey’s other hand went to the middle of your back, pulling you as close together as possible. In turn, you wrapped your arms around his chest and clung to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright. You suddenly felt ridiculous about ever thinking that you didn’t have any issues with just seeing where this thing with Mikey was going, since you had clearly underestimated how much you actually wanted this. Wanted him. And from how he was kissing you, holding you so tightly against him, the feeling was unmistakably mutual. 

You couldn’t say how long you stood there, locked together, with no signs of letting up, but you were pulled out of the moment by the pots suddenly bubbling wildly. Mikey cursed while you gasped, the two of you springing apart to see the contents of the pots sputtering around and almost starting to overflow. Jumping into action instantly, Mikey turned the heat down and stirred the pots while muttering under his breath. 

Once everything was under control again, Mikey held himself up with his hands on the counter and exhaled deeply as he turned his head towards you. 

“I think my ass is responsible for this too… I turned the heat back on high when I leaned against the stove,” he explained sheepishly. 

You stared at him for a second, before you burst into laughter, while he watched you with an amused smile. 

“You know,” you said lightly and stepped into his space again, wrapping your arms around his neck while he circled your waist with his. “I think I need to take some responsibility for this too.”

“Hm… you did distract me,” Mikey agreed with a chuckle, and leaned in to kiss you.

You grinned against his mouth, the kiss about to continue like you’d never been interrupted, when Mikey forcefully leaned his head away with a grunt and kissed your forehead instead. 

“Okay… let’s just…”

“Am I distracting you again,” you laughed softly, looking into his warm, brown eyes. 

“You have no idea,” he confessed, pulling you into a hug this time. 

You smiled into the embrace and took in a deep breath, staying in this position for a few long minutes.

“Rentre avec moi? (Come home with me?)” you finally asked, although you kept your face against his shoulder. 

Mikey cupped your face and tilted your head until he could look into your eyes, revealing his warm gaze. 

“Avec plaisir. (It would be my pleasure.)”

[basmala260]

We need to talk more about Kagiura's feelings

One of the things that I really love about chapter 7 is how it shows how painful it is to love someone who had never and probably won't think about you

We as readers and people outside the frame know how things will play out, but looking at Kagiura's place, things are completely different, and I'm sorry but he's blind optimistic

Kagi always said he wanted a best friend relationship like his parents, but do all besties have to be family? He might have had to think about that at some point if he wasn't so optimistic

Kagiura believes that Hirano loves him but needs some time

The point is that he's not just patient, he didn't believe that Hirano may not love him except only for a very short while, and all his attempts at this touching thing are to convince himself of something

(I just want to make it clear that I don't hate that Kagi is hopeful and it's not something bad or out of the ordinary)

He keeps telling Niibashi everything because he knows he will tell him what he wants, he will give him hope, and I'm sure that Niibashi understand that, Always considerate of what he says, trying to offer advice and some hope, that DOESN'T mean that Niibashi is a bad friend surly, But don't we all do that? When we see our friends exhausted in a relationship, don't we try to give them hope? He just doesn't want to see this Shiny Boy sad

Probably one of the things that hurts me the most in the manga is how Hirano always treats Kagiura so sweetly and gently that it makes my heart personally melt (not to think about how the other person feels already)

He just can't reach him

What hurts Kagiura is not being able to touch him freely or not

What really hurts Kagiura that he can't get the look he wants to see at Hirano's eyes on him, the idea of being only " a good boy" and "a little brother" at his eyes no matter what he does

I love how this was pointed out in ch 23.5, As Kagiura said that in a moment of emotion These are things he wouldn't mention in normal times, he just carries a huge amount of pain that he can't get out, he doesn't desire Hirano as much as he desires Hirano's feelings

There's a line at "Picture you" by Chappell Roan that always reminds me of Kagiura "Am I in the frame from your point of view?" He's really pathetic since he doesn't even ask for Hirano to reciprocate his feelings, he just wants Hirano to start looking at him seriously

[terapsina]

Ask Game: Agatha All Along:

Fandom: 1, 17

Ship: Agatha/Rio (Vidarkness): 7, 10

Character: Agatha OR Rio: 6, 7, or 8

(from this ask game)

Fandom:

1. ...the moment in the story that I started shipping my OTP from this world.

That whole scene where Rio blows in the door at just the most dramatic moment and the following throwdown fight made me pay attention. But this sentence? This sentence was a direct hit to alllllll my weaknesses.

It immediately gave me so much delicious information. Like, despite all that 'I want to see you burn... or hang... or drown' aggression? that this woman clearly was utterly gone for Agatha.

*be still, my beating heart 😍*

17. ...the world-building aspect of the story I have the greatest admiration for.

That SONG. I adore the way they used The Ballad of the Witches' Road in this show in so many ways. The way we kept getting different versions and the way they were so slightly and significantly different based on the purpose behind that particular version.

Like how the Sacred Chant version was all about the community of witches (and the way that hid the trap Agatha had used for centuries).

The way Lorna's version was full of a mother's unconditional love for her daughter and the lengths she'd go to for that love.

The way Nicky and Agatha's version was about their coven of two (and how even while Nicky was alive, the way Agatha had already kinda corrupted it even as her love for her son remained the one true thing about her).

Just. The way the song informed every aspect of the story... it's frankly incredibly impressive.

Ship:

7. ...the scene that I like to point to as proof that they're perfect for each other.

I could probably choose literally ANY of their scenes to make that particular point but I really like this one.

Like. Agatha has been angry and avoiding Rio for centuries. Rio has recently made it clear she wants Agatha dead (though admittedly knowing her nature this is basically at least 70% her wanting Agatha back).

But despite that, as soon as they know they have to do this particular ritual both of them know THEY are going to be the ones exchanging the brooms. They don't need to talk about it, or discuss it, or consider it, it's just... instinctual.

They are just always on the same wavelengths and it's both beautiful and really tragic.

10. ...rate the level of stupid they reach in their pining.

I mean... *murder threats* followed by...

*Agatha trying to claw Rio's face off* followed by...

*Rio painfully reminded Agatha she's never going to get her son back, a day ago* followed by...

*Rio saying she HATES ghosts* followed by...

(obviously not... no, she took a calculated risk on being able to continue irritating Rio for the next eternity).

Also just... we have one case of a dum-dum who fell in love with the literal embodiment of death. And another case of a literal embodiment of death who turned full dum-dum because she met a very pretty witch.

They're SUCH dumb. I love these pining idiots SO MUCH.

Character:

6. ...the scene that I think shows just how awesome they really are.

(I'll answer this one for Rio)

This is really boring of me maybe, but like.... how do you top a badass show-stopping moment like THAT?

Rio Vidal. Full Lady Death, everyone! *cheers and applause* *CHEERS AND APPLAUSE*

7. ...the scene that I think adds depth to their character or the relationship this character has with someone.

(...and this one for Agatha)

This scene just... shows that Billy doesn't just remind Agatha of her son... he reminds her of herself.

At the end of the day Agatha is a survivor, and so is Billy. And that both connects and differentiate them. And I just find that very interesting.

8. ...a headcanon I have about this character.

(...and Rio again)

Rio absolutely lied about being pulled onto the Road by their summoning spell. She's Death, she could have shaken that thing off with the flick of a pinky but was she really going to waste an opportunity that good?

[timeskip]

I have Thoughts about how the idea of "calling someone's name" in chimera ant arc ties together with Killua witnessing Gon transformed, at the end of the arc. And this is especially important for my personal POV that Gon didn't actually survive because he saw Killua there, the way I've seen some people say (though I do think this POV has merit too). It was a hopeless, tragic situation, and Killua couldn't do anything to stop it because Gon went alone :')

The concept of names is SO important to all of CAA, especially with how the ants form their identities, but it appears related to Gon and Killua too!! Killua calling out to Gon when he was transformed was such an important moment, because he's trying to save him the only way he knows how!!! And the fact that Gon RECOGNIZES that Killua is there and tries to reassure him but still continues to destroy himself is important too, because while Gon is being called for, he still keeps fighting Pitou! It's all Gon thinks he can do in his current state! It's an exemplification of how tragic CAA is for both of them, that Gon can never be saved until after it's over,,

Back to calling Gon's name; first, Killua talks about the importance of calling Gon's name in chapter 294:

"That's my one condition! Let him know you're okay. He was so worried about you, up to the minute we came in here. Give him some peace of mind. Please, put his mind as ease. Only you, Palm, can do that now. Nobody else can reach him. Not me..."

Killua really does believe that just by calling his name, Palm would be able to help Gon. Palm, not him. That the act of knowing she's okay would be a relief that could help Gon in a way Killua was completely unable to, because to Gon, Killua wasn't involved in this--pushing Killua away in order to take on Pitou alone--and Palm IS, because she went missing. But this perspective that Killua has isn't true! Killua is important to Gon, and Palm tells him this!!!

But Killua is horrified at this because he doesn't know how to save Gon!!!

It's such a vital moment. Killua desperately WANTS to be needed, to be someone Gon relies on. And Gon has already pushed him away, so Killua thinks that even if Gon needs him the most, Killua wouldn't be able to do anything--not even as simple as calling Gon's name.

Either way, though--Killua thinks that calling Gon's name is important, whether or not Palm's presence would help. After all this, Gon is spiraling so hard and he goes with Pitou alone, and kills Pitou alone, which is what Killua was afraid of--he wanted to be needed, and he's being faced with Gon leaving, which makes Killua powerless to do anything for Gon's sake (unlike what Palm is telling him). Even when Pouf tells him what's going on, all he can do is try to make it in time.

And then in 307, when Killua finds Gon:

For Killua, this is him checking that it IS Gon, because... this Gon looks ENTIRELY unlike the Gon Killua knows. And in return, Gon calls Killua's name. He acknowledges Killua's presence.

Gon knows Killua is there. They've both called each other's names now, they both know each other is there, and Gon knows that Killua is watching him not just kill Pitou as Pitou's puppeted corpse goes after him again, but also expend all his power and life in order to do it. We KNOW what Gon is going through, the guilt he feels, and all the pain he's finally unleashing on Pitou, as his sole object of revenge. He'd already chosen to give up all of himself by this point, and I... don't believe there's any way to go back on a nen contract like that. He's using all of himself, one way or another.

Even though he knows this is the end, Gon is telling Killua that he's happy. That it's not hurting him. He's trying to comfort Killua, or he's just so numb he doesn't understand what he's doing to himself. Either way, he's HAPPY that he can be like Kite, losing an arm before he dies, because this is the self punishment he feels he deserves, and he doesn't realize how much pain he's causing Killua. Gon is fully aware of what he's doing and he knows that Killua is watching him, but it's impossible to stop the self destruction he's started.

In a way, I think Killua was right. He can't reach Gon now, or at least he stopped being able to after Gon made his nen contract. He wasn't able to save Gon during the palace invasion, because Gon WOULD'VE died if not for Nanika.

But at the same time, I think Palm is also right. She wouldn't have been able to do anything for Gon just by telling him that she's okay, because this is so much bigger than her, and bigger than just knowing that Palm or Killua are okay when Gon isn't; Gon needs someone like Killua, someone who's able to call his name and help him come back to himself. Gon wants Killua to live, even if he's unable to accept Killua's help.

This is a tragedy, after all :')

I'd be willing to argue that it's Killua watching Gon which allows KILLUA to choose to live, the opposite of Gon looking at Killua and deciding to live. Killua had been planning to commit suicide with Gon, to make sure Gon isn't alone, but seeing Gon like this and desperately yelling at him to STOP, because if he keeps going he's going to lose his entire life, and watching Gon turn back and look at him tearfully... Killua wasn't prepared to witness that. And I think it must have changed his mind from thinking it would be fine if he died, as long as it was useful to Gon, to him wanting Gon to apologize. Obviously it isn't healthy, but it was a change that needed to happen. Killua needed to choose to live and save Gon, instead of sacrificing himself for Gon's sake!!!

And then offscreen somewhere, Killua finds Gon barely alive. When Killua first saw transformed Gon, Gon had called KILLUA'S name, bringing Killua back to his senses and making him realize what he needed to save. After all, isn't Gon the same as Palm? He showed up, looking like that, and Killua was terrified. And Gon needed to call his name.

They're BOTH the one each other need the most, even if they couldn't save each other!!

But I do think Killua is helpless to do anything even up to the moment Gon's jajanken explodes. After all, Gon saw that Killua was there and still kept fighting Pitou's body with his full strength, not even relying on Killua, reassuring Killua that he was okay (like saying that Killua didn't need to be involved) after Killua pushed him out of the way of Pitou's attack (which Gon was fully going to take!!! He was fully going to die if Killua hadn't saved him!!!). His self punishment didn't have anything to do with Killua, but Killua watched it anyway.

And that is of course part of why Killua is so upset after the arc!! Because he's finally starting to realize that he's been putting so much of himself on the idea of being "needed" by Gon, but he can't live like that anymore. He needs Gon to apologize for running ahead without him and being someone Killua couldn't save until after it had already happened.

Anyways I love the ways that the arc builds into the tragedy throughout the whole thing, it's so good <3

[itachiiwrites]

𖹭 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝕯𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖞

𖹭 Synopsis— A random act of kindness was all it took for you to be infatuated with Gojo Satoru, what about him?

𖹭 Dear Diary Archives.

A/N: this is my first time writing a long fic idk what this is but it's something? Let's see how it goes. Divider by @/cafekitsune

𖹭 CW. This story will content dark elements, hence it's 18+. It includes: Murder, Gore, obsessive themes, stalking, suuuuperrr unhealthy behaviours, everyone is insane, the reader is not a healthy person, or exactly a good person for that matter. There are other warnings too but i forgot, gojo satoru is his own warning

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝟎𝟏. 𝑾𝒉���?

All your life, there was an absurd kind of thirst present in your body. You could never pinpoint what exactly it was, what drove you menselessly crazy, made you deranged.

It was hard to put the pieces of the puzzle together, blaming your moldable brain areas for not being able to figure out what was wrong with you. What was wrong with you that the girls in kindergarten wouldn't want to play house, inclusive of you? The question of why was so predominantly present in your vocabulary that it presented itself in your mind even as no curiosity to seek answers to was present. The answer was always the same anyway.

'We don't like you because you're a freak.'

Creep. Freak. Oddball. Psycho.

If you didn't know you had an actual name, you'd be convinced that these were your real names with how often you were labelled that. It wasn't like you didn't have any friends, there were friends present but their presence felt as if it existed only because there was some pity.

Not for Gojo Satoru, however.

The first time you talked to him it was near a cheap, a little worn, worm eaten walled—candy shop. The purpose of going there was to pass time, having nothing better to do when all people would do in your class was draw vile things on your desk, how childish. If they had the balls they should tell you those seemingly outrageous incentives on your face, but it didn't matter because you had found your reason for being.

Was he fucking stupid? Offering you one of his sickly sweet candies? Couldn't he tell what you were already?

"Your eyes are gonna fall off if you keep looking at me like that, miss girl" What an infectious laugh. How cute.

"Come on, take it, I'm doing this only 'cause I have an extra" The boy with the white hair sighed and groaned at how stupidly frozen you were in your spot—making the effort to wrap the chocolate bar in your fist, his cold, clammy hands made you wince. He walked away before you could even get out a spur of a word— away with a casual wave of his abnormally large hand.

At first all you could do was stare at the chocolate bar that he handed you, taking a soft sniff to make out a tiny hint of his scent. There was nothing, all blank, as if he didn't exist, as if he was a figment of your imagination.

That chocolate was placed onto your table, tucked between your trinkets like a souvenir. Because it was, it was a reminder that someone made an effort to give you this diabetically sweet chocolate, just because he could. You didn't even dare to open it.

Frequent visits around the same crippling shop lead you to the information that his name was Gojo Satoru, an 18 year old student at Jujutsu Tech, a religious school.

And with a name in your hand, everything was in reach with internet at disposal.

Checking his myspace became a ritual. Satoru was a social person because.. Ofcourse he was. This was your only gateway to him for now but the desperation to know more was catching up.

He was beautiful.

You found him absolutely captivating, a sight that made your heart race with an intense langour.

The more you looked at him the more his beauty became ethereal, a vision that awakened something so grotesque within, it scared you.

Each feature of his face, every move he made no matter how ridiculous it was to others, fueled your obsession further until it was all-consuming. In his very presence that you never came too close to, you felt an overwhelming need to possess him completely, to have him all to yourself. His beauty was like gasoline to your raging flame of yearning, making your desire grow exponentially. For him.

This love of yours made you question yourself, it was idiotic to be in love with someone so unreachable, someone so beautiful. But an idiot is never complete without their mindless optimism for the better.

And you, were truly an idiot.

The way your heart dropped to your guts and your body manoeuvred nausea as if it was the only thing it knew. Seeing an equally beautiful man holding his hand, looking at him with the same longing in his eyes, the one that leveled yours. The pain was shrill, piercing, tinnitus and unbearable.

He wasn't yours.

The walls of your room that were plastered with his face all over felt smaller, it was getting hard to breath. Something simple like air came so difficult, with emotions risen like a tempest making your chest incredibly tight.

He had to be yours. He was yours.

The question of 'why' was up yet again, but this time with burn in your throat so harsh that it felt lacerated and while a thousand knvies gauched into your heart.

Why. Why. Why.

Only one of all the why's you've had in your existence, this was the one you could answer.

A knife like that from him felt bearable enough.

He had to be yours.

Taglist (Open :D) @rinachains

All rights reserved to ©itachiiwrites, 2024. Plagiarism not authorised. Do not copy, distribute my work on other platforms. Reblogs and feeback appreciated!

[janebonbon]

Alright, Let's talk

I've had some time to digest everything about the election and hearing all the talk surrounding it. I was, and am devistated as to where things stand now for a Trump presidency. However... My gut tells me this is not over. Whether that means election fraud or tampering, boycotts and protests, or more legal trouble for the big orange. It's not over. Things are far too quiet, and we are in the eye before the storm. Notice how EXTREMELY quiet Trump is this time around. He hasn't been boasting and gloating and unsufferably hard to ignore. There is something going on, and I think he is very nervous.

However. That does not erase the threat of everything Trump stands for. If anything, this has shown us the threat in front of us. My family is Polish, I have grown up Polish. Why is that relavant? Talk about world war two was almost a constant growing up. Most people associate Poles with WW2 anyway, so I learned a lot. I learned a lot about facism, nazis, eugenics, and the psychology of complacancy that led to the holocaust.

Around 2016, at the fresh age of 14, my mother and I went to the Zekelman Holocaust Museum in Michigan. I urge you too look at or read about some of their exhibits here. This is where my mother and I were first able to completely face the fact of what Trump was doing. There was an exhibit showcasing the 10 stages of genocide. We are now currently at stage 7. Project 2024 has thrust us there. I worry deeply about what project 2024 has shown us. What that means for every single women, the LGBTQ+ community, our immigrant communities, our disabled communities.

Even if there is no internment camps like in the holocaust, I worry about escalations. I am terrified of history repeating. I refuse to be complacant in that, and I urge you not to be as well. I urge you to prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. Be proactive in measures for the future.

Especially if you are a woman, I am telling you to buy Plan B now. Travel state lines if you have to. Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years. If not for yourself, do it for a friend, family member, or someone you care about. Even if you are not sexually active, you never know what is going to happen or who might need it.

If you have any period tracking apps, they need to go NOW. Flood it with misinformation if you are able, change past entries before you delete it. Stick to putting that information to pen-and-paper where your data will not be taken by the government and used agaisnt you.

If you are able to, please apply for a passport or renew yours if you haven't already, the sooner the better. It can take a lot of time for them to get processed, so do this first. If you are financially unable to pay for a passport, you may be eligable to apply with a fee waiver. In case you feel unsafe and just want to leave the country for whatever reason may happen, I feel it is extremely important to have.

Download Signal. It has end-to-end encryption that will keep you and those same people you care about safe. I also suggest turning off notification previews even on apps like Signal, as I am told that they can be un-encrypted. If you value your privacy for conversations with your trusted people, you need to do it on something that is end-to-end encrypted.

If you are able and feel safe to, build a community network. Anyone you believe can be trusted, talk to them now about your fears and come up with a plan for worst-case scenerios. Reach out to others that have the same fears as you. Talk to your trusted friends and family members. You are not powerless. You have strength in numbers. If not to help you feel safety, but to give you hope and laughter in hard times. It does not and will not mean that the world is not dire, but you need to still stay sane.

Save important doccuments now. Not on pinterest or in a TikTok bookmark. Download. That. Shit. Don't have the computer space? Get a hard drive. A USB. Fuck it, a CD. Can't download important information? Write it down on physical paper. You have options. Even if it doesn't get taken offline, archiving and saving important things is extremely important anyway. Anything important to you, save. I am worried about books and important information being lost. Get physical copies if you are able. Find ways to download them in PDF or similar formats. Music? Save it. Maybe I'm being too wary, but you will have no idea what is going to go until they start doing it.