#but i just ignored it until i was already in hell

[ivoraic]

JJK Men when they're OBSESSED with You.

featuring: Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Sukuna, Toji

a/n: just some fluffy (and not so fluffy) headcanons of the jjk men being smitten for you. enjoy ♡

Nanami Kento

Pretends he’s not obsessed, but it’s so obvious in the way he adjusts his entire schedule around you. (You’re the one thing in his life that doesn’t follow a schedule, but he can always make time for you.)

Knows things about you that you don't even remember telling him. Your childhood pet’s name? Your favorite snack from five years ago? The exact way your face twitches when you try not to laugh? He doesn’t just notice, he catalogs it in his mind.

Fixes problems before you even notice them. Something at work stressing you out? Magically resolved. Bills piling up? Suddenly paid. Annoying guy won’t stop texting you? He handled it. (Should you be worried...?)

“I wouldn’t call it obsession. I’d call it making sure you’re taken care of.”

Geto Suguru

The smoothest obsession. He’s calm, calculated, and charming, but know that everything he does is meant to draw you deeper into his orbit.

Lowkey stalks you… but in a way that seems completely normal. Oh, you’re going to that cafe? He just happens to be there too. Oh, you’re walking home? Well, what a coincidence, so is he.

Has a way of making you feel like you’re the only person who understands him, like you’re his one exception in a world full of disappointments. Always treats you like you’re a rare, delicate thing.

“I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed. But I would say that I’ve considered every possible way to make sure you never leave my side.”

Choso

The softest obsession. Absolutely no self-awareness about how deep it runs. He just thinks it’s normal to want to be with you all the time, to always position himself within arm’s reach, to instinctively follow you whenever you leave a room.

Textbook definition of loyalty. If someone so much as raises their voice at you, he’s already on his feet, ready to throw hands.

Physically incapable of ignoring you. You call his name? He’s already looking at you. You text him? His reply is lighting up your phone screen within seconds.

“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I want to be around you all the time?”

Sukuna

Denial, denial, denial. “I don’t give a shit about you.” Meanwhile, he’s threatening to level entire cities if someone so much as looks at you wrong.

Unhinged protectiveness. If you get hurt, he takes it personally. Like, seething about it for days, going on a rampage, killing everyone in his way until he finds who it was that hurt you.  (Nobody gets to touch what belongs to the King of Curses and expect to keep their lives.)

Leaves marks on your body - bite marks, handprints, anything to make sure you know you belong to him.

“Be grateful. You’re the only human I’ve ever tolerated this much.”

Toji Fushiguro

Possessive as hell, but in a lazy, confident way, because he knows you’re his. No need to fight for you when he’s already won.

“Where do you think you’re going?” said with a smirk, as he hooks an arm around your waist and yanks you onto his lap.

Teases you constantly but never lets anyone else get away with it. Someone makes a joke at your expense? He’s already cracking his knuckles.

Doesn’t say he’s obsessed, but you can tell from the way his touch is always on you. A hand at the back of your neck, his fingers brushing against yours, his lips grazing your ear when he talks.

“You’re mine. End of story.”

Gojo Satoru

He memorizes everything about you, down to the way your voice sounds when you’re tired, the exact scent of your shampoo, and the way your heartbeat changes when you’re nervous.

Throws his money around just to keep you comfortable. "It’s not spoiling you, it’s basic human decency," he insists as he books an entire first-class cabin just so you can nap peacefully.

Acts ridiculously nonchalant, but the moment someone else shows interest in you, he gets so petty it’s unbelievable. (Flashing his six eyes while standing behind you just to glare at the person, making you wonder why every stranger you talk to always hastily ends the conversation and runs away.)

“Obsession? That’s a strong word. I just happen to think about you every waking moment of my day.”

(Psst by the way, if you liked this there are more gojo fics and drabbles waiting for you on my blog! 🤭)

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Simon had been angry before, no question about that. But he had never been this angry. The moment the helicopter touched down, he grabbed your elbow and dragged you through the base, until you reached the building that was assigned to the 141. All the way, he ignored the concerned and annoyed shouts from the others. And you? You couldn't say anything to defend yourself. Not this time at least.

Simon had all the reasons to be angry, one could have. You were reckless, stubborn, almost got yourself killed in the process. And now you were bearing the consequences. So, you let him drag you through the base, ignoring the curious stares and the way his nails bit into your skin, even through the shirt you were wearing. 

As soon as you two stepped foot into the rec room, he pushed you inside, before stalking to you, glaring as if you were one of his enemies. But you knew better and you saw the worry and fear hidden behind the anger. 

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Price, Soap, and Gaz entered the room, looking worried. "Simon, calm down." Usually, Price's words would have worked. Would have gotten Simon to come to his senses. But you knew he was too far gone. 

"I wasn't thinking. I did what I had to, just like you taught me." You tried to square up to him, but the fire burning in his eyes made you back down. "I didn't fuckin' teach you to get yourself killed now, did I?" You sighed, frustrated, and glared right back at the giant in front of you. 

"You know what I mean. Don't act as if you wouldn't have done the sa-" He interrupted you, spit flying as he suddenly yelled. "That's not what this is about!" Your glare disappeared as your eyes widened in shock. He must have realized what he just did, taking a few steps back, his hand raking down his face. When he looked back at you, a quiet whisper that was your name, left his lips, but you stopped him.

"Fuck you, Simon." That seemed to get his anger going again. "Don't. You're on thin fucking ice right now, you understand?" Your eyes immediately found Soap's, who was already smirking. 

Just last week, he showed you a stupid meme, where someone said "You're on thin ice", and the other person started tap dancing. And in that moment, you knew what you had to do, no matter the cost. So, you stood up straight and started to tap dance. Or at least tried to. First, you had no clue how to, so whatever it looked like, it must've been terrible. And second, before you even got three steps in, Simon's arm wrapped around your waist and he threw you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

"Hey!" Not reacting at all, he walked out of the rec room, once again ignoring the others calling after him. Although, it was only Price and Gaz calling. Soap was standing beside them, bent over laughing.

Before you knew it, Simon put you down again. But it wasn't gently, no. Instead, he just threw you onto, what you quickly realized was, his bed. And when you heard the lock click, you knew you were in for a night.

A/N: I love all of you, hope you know that! <3

[pinkteethmarks]

omg.. wait for your valentines event could you please to like frat/playboy! katsuki x soft/nerd! reader (who could also look so fucking hot and gorgeous omggg😫)

so basically they’re just at a party and katsuki finds the reader hot but doesn’t know it’s actually the reader so he goes up to them asking them their name and stuff and then he realizes he knows the reader from their classes together and also realizes he’s in love /w her 😫😫

playboy…frat boy,,,katsuki…. i’m… ugh melting. i love this man so much IM MELTINGGGG. also… aha… sorry for taking this long.. SCHOOL OS ACTUALLY KICK MY BUM BUM SIXTH FORM IS GETTING SERIOUS GUYSS!!! but i’ll put my whole attention into tasks again guys.. sorry if this is really bad lowkey think i’ve lost my sparkle for writing but dw it will come back soon!! suggestive, references to corruption kink, gender neutral reader, use of pretty, sexy, succubus (lmao). 1.1k words!

stephanie; katsuki bakugou

katsuki should be at the library with you right now, you both had agreed to go to continue doing research for the project you were assigned to do together, but katsuki had other plans.

one that involved a hell of a lot of alcohol, cheap valentines decorations and someone to… relax him for the night.

in all honesty, he was avoiding you. something weird was happening, where everytime you grazed him with your soft skin, every look you gave him with those sparkling eyes, all of it, all of you, were starting to make him feel off. as though he wanted to protect you, but also ruin you.

you’re just so delicate, everything about you is the complete opposite of him, kind, loving, gentle, sweet, something about it made him so… possessive of you.

he didn’t know when this actually started to appear, he just knew that the last time you spoke to him in class got him sweating buckets to the point where even fucking shoto (the most socially inept) realised something was off with him.

so, here he was, blowing you off and ignoring your texts to come here. alone. how fucking fun.

katsuki’s carmine eyes whisked through the crowd, trying to find someone who will help him forget all of his woe’s about you and whatever this weird feeling that was bubbling inside of him, until they landed on…you.

well, yes you, but it wasn’t like he knew it was you since you looked completely different.

you were perfect, outfit way too tight and body way too perfect. you looked down right sexy, practically like a succubus waiting to suck his soul but one that had some form of gentleness to you.

regardless, he wasn’t exactly waiting to figure you out, he just needed a quick fuck for the night to get his stress out.

and so, he began to do his signature party trick, the bump and surprise.

he began walking straight towards you, making sure that his gaze was not fixated on you but directly past you until he bumped into you from behind, causing a cute little gasp to leave your lips.

‘reminds me of yn.’ he thought to himself for a split second, quickly trying to rid himself of that thought, of you.

“huh, you bumped into me.” katsuki scoffed, pretending not to be completely flustered as you faced him because damn you looked sexier up close.

those eyes though, felt familiar, they seem to sparkle innocently as he looked at you.

“no, you bumped into me?” you responded softly despite the loud bass of the music almost drowning you out, yet his ear was trained to listen to you.

“guess i need your number so that we can sort this out later.” katsuki smirked, fishing his phone out of his pocket and handing it to you.

“you already have my number, remember? especially since you’re kinda blowing me off right now.” you pouted slightly as you sighed.

“wait, have we fucked before?” katsuki’s answered back confusingly, glancing between all the people he was blowing off right now on his phone and your face.

“what, no?! bakugou, do you not recognise me?” you scoffed.

“um, no?” katsuki gruffed out, tired of all these games. he just wanted to take you to his bed, set you down on the bed and ravage you.

“it’s me, y/n l/n?” you responded sassily, your hands on your hip as you rolled your eyes.

katsuki’s eyes widened, how, in any single universe did he approach you out of every single girl at this fucking function?

you didn’t look anything like you did in school, you were all dolled up, wore something that showed your figure and something that made you look so… fuckable.

not to say that you in school isn’t already a pretty little thing in katsuki’s eyes, but this party-look painted you in a whole different light that was intoxicating to him, dangerous even.

“there’s no way in hell, out of every girl i could’ve approached, it was.. you.” he spoke slowly.

“don’t make it sound like it’s such a terrible thing.” you cutely looked to the side, your face slightly falling.

fuck, even when you were upset you were cute as hell.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’ katsuki thought frustratingly.

you kept invading his mind, etched into his soul and locked into his heart. nothing ever overshadowed his constant thoughts of you and no matter how much he tried to look at other people, flirt with others and get into bed with them, he truly couldn’t because every single time, his heart would come back to you.

he fucking hated it.

but, more so, he was scared of it and thus, scared of you.

not like he would ever admit that, he’s katsuki fucking bakugou for crying out loud.

“are you ok?” you asked him.

“i.. don’t fucking know. why are you everywhere, yn? i keep.. seeing you and thinking of you.” katsuki responded, his blush intensifying.

“what.. are you trying to say bakugou?” you looked confused.

“call me katsuki.” katsuki looked to the side, his face almost completely red now.

“ok, katsuki, what are you trying to say?” you asked once more.

ok, that was a mistake, if katsuki was flustered before, now he was completely ruined hearing his first name leave your pretty lips.

“i.. don’t know. it’s valentine’s day or whatever and for some reason the universe brought us together right now so, take a fucking guess.” katsuki scoffed.

“you want me?” you said excitedly, smiling widely as your once unattainable crush seemed to finally feel within your reach.

“depends on what your answer, damn it, katsuki bakugou does not get rejected.” his confidence was now increasing as he saw how elated you were at the prospect of being with him.

“only if you ask me properly.” you teased.

“fucks sake, ok, yn l/n, these past few project meetings had me feeling a type of way i never knew i could feel. you’re gorgeous, and i think now i realise that you aren’t only cute but sexy as fuck. not just that though, you’re kind, you’re smart, you have a hell of a lot of resilience and will power, all in all, you are the dream person for me. so, will you like, be my fucking valetines or something?” katsuki smirked

“yes!” you squealed, running to wrap your arms around his extremely toned torso.

katsuki was slightly surprised, of course he had been touched before - a hell of a lot of times actually - but, this hug you gave him just felt different. a lot more personal and intimate, oddly enough, he loved it all the same.

“you smell so good.” you sighed, immediately pausing as embarrassment flushes your entire being.

“is that so? wanna see how good i smell without these clothes on?” katsuki smirked.

“we just got together! also, i need you to promise me something.” you rolled your eyes yet your tone changed to something more sincere.

“yeah?”

“that you’ll stop with kissing all these other girls.” you sighed.

“kissing- honey, i do a lot more than kiss-“

“don’t wanna hear it! just want you to promise me you’ll stop.” you put your palm up to signify that you wanted him to stop.

“i promise.” katsuki replied, looking straight into your eyes, all that the present was warmth, kindness and love.

katsuki was new to this but he would definitely try, anything for you.

[red5tars]

all that remains, pt.1

ghost x reader; past ghoap.

cw: major character death, alcohol + drinking, simon is grieving and he is NOT happy

it was no surprise johnny would be forced into an early retirement. simon planned to follow him, hell, he would follow him to ends of the earth if johnny so much as hinted at it. but that wasn't the case, not this time.

or after going no contact for nearly two decades, simon riley gets the closure he's always needed with his sergeant. or rather, an extension of him.

he can hardly remember what happened.

(-security had to escort simon out of the hospital. yank him away from johnny as he yelled, cursed, told his mother that she could go fuck herself up the ass with the cross she carries in her bag-)

-the past a blur, smudged by time.

still, betrayal sticks to the back of his tongue like a bitter aftertaste. the feeling apart of him forever.

the day that johnny got shot, two matching holes were made: one ingrained into soap's head, the other in ghost's heart. time healed one while growing the other, the correlation negative. never crossing.

until now.

he reads the article over and over again, eyes darting all over the page.

local veteran. wife. daughter. car crash. multiple injuries. dead.

dead.

dead.

dead-

simon chucks his phone across the room, device shattering upon impact.

he shouldn't have asked price for more details, knowing his captain would never have spared him. then again, the last time simon talked with price was nearly a month ago, both men preferring to talk in person. unfortunately, this message couldn't wait.

according to elisabeth kübler-ross, simon should be in denial. shaking his head frantically, muttering 'no no no no no', tugging his hair and screaming till his lungs give out. yet, the first emotion that his apathetic brain can register is regret-

-days spent quietly in the woods, vows and toasts, an honest conversation, all lost when the text he's gone appeared on his screen only thirty minutes prior.

memories never created bounce around in his head, plaguing him. a ghost being haunted, how hilarious.

even when johnny was cut out from simon'a life, at the very least he knew he was still there. living and breathing, enjoying life with someone who wasn't him.

wasn't simon.

before he can spiral even further, his phone buzzes. a miracle, considering how hard he threw it. a part of him wants to break his phone, unable to cement this new reality (denial, maybe miss ross knew a thing or two).

but he's already walking, bending down to pick up the small device. his thumb hits the answer button before he can throw it again.

"i should've called first," price says, voice filled with sympathy, shielding his own grief. even decades later, his captain continues to put on a strong front. typical, but not unwelcomed.

a million responses run through simon's head; "yes, you should've", "it wouldn't have made a difference".

“you never should’ve told me. should’ve let me die an ignorance.”

"..'s fine," simon mumbles, eyes drifting down to the floor.

there's an uncomfortable silence that comes from the other end of the line. for a man who can figure out when the enemy is about to take their next breath, he's shit when it comes to comfort.

price sighs, "'s not, but not much we can do 'bout it now, huh?" he tacks on a humorless laugh at the end, which could be mistaken for another exasperated sigh.

he's right. there isn't much they can do about now. simon doesnt't even want to do anything. if he had to do something, gun to his head, he'd just pull the trigger himself and hope johnny is wherever he ends up (a low probability really. johnny believed in god and the only man simon worshipped was him).

"listen, simon," price's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, forcing him back to the present. the one where johnny is dead, "i didn't just call to talk about… him.

"they're gonna be 'osting a funeral, 'bout a week from now," he continues, simon taking every detail with a gram of salt, "gonna be in his hometown. i've been in contact with his mum considerin' the lad," (a weird word to describe him, but it makes sense. john has always been like a father figure to them all, offering guidance even outside of the trenches), "won't have a regular funeral."

a neatly folded flag, gunshots that echo of missions from years ago, and the husk of the strongest man he knows.

well, knew.

"figures," simon replies, despondent. it seems price catches on, another breath leaving him heavily, "look, i know you two weren't on the best of terms after the.. incident, but i do know that if he wanted anyone to see him off. it would be you," there's a slight rustle on price's end, a barely audible john..? reaching simon's end. price huffs, but it's filled with warmth, "woke up the missus.. listen, i'll talk to you again when everything is finalized just.. don't do anything you'd regret, simon."

it takes simon three minutes to respond, not realizing what john said wasn't a suggestion but rather an order (some things don't change, huh?).

"..yes, sir," and simon can hear the smile in his tone when john tells him 'good night'.

he didn't realize it till price left him in the static silence of his home flat, but simon didn't move a single inch during the entirety of the call. a strange superstition he had when he was younger, that if he didn't move, nothing would change. it didn't work of course. staying huddled in a corner didn't stop his father from seeking him out and beating him and his mother.

staying buried in the trenches didn't stop the enemy from firing at him.

and staying rooted in this one spot didn't change the fact that johnny mactavish was a dead man.

so much for some things not changing…

he thinks of what to do next. price ordered him to not do something he would regret, his to-do list quickly dwindling down to two options:

a) go to the funeral.

b) or don't.

to others it's an easy choice, but to simon? this would be facing the truth head first. face first.

johnny, expression contorted into something peaceful, telling a silent story of a man who lived a long fruitful life.

still, no amount of blush could hide the fact it's a corpse he'll be reuniting with.

it could do him more good than harm but what if it doesn't? what if it's then he truly snaps, impales himself on one of the many flower stands he knows will be there, removing himself only to drag his bleeding body towards his one true love.

splayed out like romeo over juliet except this isn't some shakespearean tale, star-crossed lovers and theatrical english. no, this is his reality, his purgatory made into actuality.

all that's left is to make a decision. stay or go? face the truth or don't?

it circles his head like an ugly carousel with a discordant tune, that is till his eyes land on a an unopened bottle of whiskey he got from america.

johnny had insisted on buying it when they were in the states for a mission. "we'll share it whin we git back to th' stead, lt. treat fur a jab weel done."

(they never opened it, that operation being dubbed 'the incident', followed by silence from both ends)

better late then never, simon thinks, skulking towards the bottle. the cap comes off with ease, simon swiping some dust around the spout. there's glasses somewhere in his shitty flat, a set that's engraved with their initials.

he settles on drinking straight from the source.

[passthecartunderthestall]

ignored r.c

mean!rafe x sweetheart!rafe

warnings: smut!, 18+, mean!rafe, public fingering, degradation, dirty talk, ignorance, nicknames, humiliation, ect.

this definitely wasn’t on her 2025 bingo card. her and rafe sat, more like squished side by side in a very crowded country club. she only came because he asked her to and how could she say no to him.

her hands sat perfectly still in her lap as she played with the hem of her short dress watching the place in front of her. she would be perfectly content right now if she didn’t get teased to hell and back by the boy next to her.

she was soaked. squeezing her thighs together just a the thought of what happened before they got there. the image of rafes knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel with one hand the other moving small tight circles on her clit.

his cock visibly strained against the pants of his black suit. the same suit that just so happened to have a matching red tie to match the short dress he picked out for you. her head thrown back against the seat and her eyes shut tight. right before she was about to cum he pulled his hand away and pulled into the parking lot.

telling her she had to wait until they got home and leaving it at that. but she couldn’t. she sighed in her seat next to him. the place so loud he could barely it but he did. his hand moved from his lap to hers, quickly moving it under her dress but not looking away from the scene he was watching.

her eyes widened looking up at her boyfriend then back down at his hand. “r-rafe!” she whispered yelled at him. yes she wanted him but not in public! rafe just stayed quiet paying her no mind as he grabbed her thigh and pushed her legs open far enough for him to move his hand but not enough for others to see.

she let out a loudish sigh as she felt him rub his fingers up and down her core. she was so fucking wet. he quickly entered 2 fingers into her. her back arch immediately. already close from the car. she grabbed his arm whispering rafes name up to him. but he stayed silent not even glancing over at her. “please rafe.” she didn’t even know what she was asking for but all she got was

his fingers speeding up inside her. her hand slammed on her mouth making a loud smack sound as she held back her moans. she looked around and saw that nobody cared about her and him but more so on the party itself. her legs squeezed together as she squirmed in her seat feeling her wetness drip down her thighs and onto the seat below her.

“look at the mess you made, sweet girl. gonna clean it up or have someone find out what we did?” rafe whispered in her ear. finally paying her attention.

“such a slut. you couldn’t wait till we got home had to squirt on my fingers in front of everybody huh?”

……………….…………………………………………

hey guys! this is my first time actually writing and i would love feedback or suggestions or ideas to write. so please let me know! love, scream

[sturniololuvz]

can you do an angst fic where one of the boys were play fighting with sister reader who’s 14-16 and he accidentally actually hurts her. she gets upset and scared of him and refuses to talk to him for a week and only talks to the other boys

yepppoo

“I Didn’t Mean To”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : hurt. ignoring

Chris never meant to hurt her.

It was supposed to be fun. Play fighting like they always did, throwing harmless jabs, pushing each other around, laughing until one of them gave up. It was something they had been doing since Y/N was little.

But this time… it went wrong.

They were in the living room, messing around while Matt and Nick were in the kitchen. Y/N had shoved Chris first, laughing when he stumbled back.

“Oh, you think you’re strong?” he teased, pushing her back playfully.

Y/N grinned. “Stronger than you.”

Chris scoffed. “Oh, bet?”

And then, in the heat of the moment, he swung his arm out—playfully, not thinking—and shoved her a little harder than he meant to.

Too hard.

She lost her footing.

She stumbled back, her socked feet slipping against the hardwood floor—

And then she hit the coffee table. Hard.

The sound of her body colliding with it made Chris’s heart drop instantly. The laughter died.

“Y/N?” he breathed, already moving toward her.

She was on the floor, clutching her arm where it had slammed into the edge of the table, her face twisted in pain.

Chris froze. His stomach twisted painfully. Oh, shit.

“Yo, I’m so sorry—” He reached for her, but she flinched back instinctively.

And that’s when it hit him.

The fear in her eyes.

The way she pulled away from him like he had actually meant to hurt her.

Chris felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Matt and Nick ran in at the sound of the crash. “What happened?” Nick asked, eyes darting between them.

Chris swallowed hard, panic settling in. “I—I didn’t mean to, I swear, we were just messing around and—”

Y/N stood up quickly, still clutching her arm, her jaw tight. “I’m fine,” she muttered.

But she didn’t look at Chris.

Not once.

Instead, she turned to Matt. “Can you take me to my room?”

Chris opened his mouth. “Y/N—”

She didn’t even acknowledge him.

Nick glanced between them, his face serious. “Y/N…”

But she was already walking off, with Matt. Not even looking back.

Chris felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

The next week was hell.

Y/N wouldn’t talk to him. Wouldn’t look at him.

She’d joke around with Matt. She’d talk to Nick like nothing was wrong. But the second Chris entered the room? Silence.

It destroyed him.

He tried everything.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

Ignored.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Silence.

“Please, don’t be scared of me.”

Nothing.

Chris hated himself for it. Hated that one stupid mistake had changed things between them.

“She’s not actually scared of you,” Matt reassured him one night. “She’s just mad.”

Chris shook his head. “Did you see how she flinched? I’ve never made her do that before.”

Nick sighed. “You just gotta give her time, man.”

Chris nodded, but deep down, he wondered if things would ever go back to how they were.

It wasn’t until a week later that Y/N finally snapped.

Chris was sitting in the living room, head in his hands, when she walked in.

“Why do you keep acting like I’m never gonna talk to you again?”

Chris’s head shot up, eyes wide. “Because you haven’t talked to me.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Because you hurt me, Chris.”

Chris felt his stomach twist. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I hate myself for it.”

Y/N sighed, her expression softening slightly. “I know you didn’t mean to. But it just… freaked me out, okay? You’ve never actually hurt me before.”

Chris swallowed. “I’d never—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I’d never do that to you on purpose, Y/N. Ever.”

She was silent for a moment before she finally sighed. “I know.”

Chris hesitated, then opened his arms slightly. “Are we okay?”

Y/N hesitated too—then stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him.

Chris exhaled, hugging her tightly. “I’m really sorry, bug.”

Y/N nodded against his shoulder. “Just don’t do it again, dumbass.”

Chris let out a breathless laugh. “Deal.”

[noorpersona]

Rivalry: Atsumu

It had been years of this.

Years of Atsumu Miya being an unrelenting, aggravating presence in your life.

From the moment you met, he had been insufferable. Smug, fiercely competitive, and persistently irksome, he thrived on pushing every button you had. Every interaction with him was a battle—whether it was a disagreement over training schedules, a critique of his technique, or a casual observation about his erratic setting. He never let anything slide, twisting every word into an argument, every comment into an opportunity to outmaneuver you.

The worst part? You never backed down.

If he provoked, you retaliated. If he smirked, you sneered. He could infuriate you faster than anyone else, and he knew it—and he reveled in it.

And now, in your third year as the Inarizaki team manager, you had mastered the art of tolerating Atsumu Miya—

Until tonight.

Tonight, he’d finally gone too far.

The entire team had long since caught on to your dynamic.

Atsumu didn’t merely annoy you—he made a sport out of it.

If you walked into practice? He was already waiting, arms crossed, a cocky grin stretching across his face as he prepared some quip guaranteed to get under your skin.

“Yer late, manager,” he’d say, despite the fact that you never were.

If you so much as tried to correct something? He’d smirk, feigning surprise. “Oh? Maybe I should just hand ya my setter position, huh?”

And the worst part? The others loved it.

Osamu, Futakuchi, and even Kita occasionally leaned back and observed your fights like a live-action drama, amused by how predictably you two clashed.

“Ya know, at this point, I think ya like the attention,” Atsumu teased one afternoon, casually tossing a volleyball between his hands. “Yer always gettin’ worked up over me.”

You scoffed, arms crossed. “Oh, please. The day I enjoy anything about you is the day hell freezes over.”

Futakuchi nudged Osamu. “Tension’s thick today.”

Osamu smirked. “Give it five minutes. They’ll be yellin’.”

And five minutes later, Atsumu had said exactly the right thing to set you off, and the shouting commenced.

Practice had gone as usual, with only a few sharp remarks exchanged between you and Atsumu before it was over. You were exhausted, your muscles aching from running errands for the team all day, your patience wearing thin. All you wanted was to head home, collapse into bed, and forget that Miya Atsumu existed for a few blessed hours.

The team packed up in the club room, their chatter filling the space as they slung their bags over their shoulders. You barely noticed that Atsumu wasn’t among them as they filed out, too focused on getting the final tasks done so you could lock up and leave.

But when you walked into the gym, your plans crumbled.

Atsumu was still there, alone, setting balls into the air with effortless precision. His expression was intense, brows drawn together in concentration, jaw tight, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. The only sounds in the gym were the rhythmic thud of the volleyball meeting his hands and the slight squeak of his sneakers against the polished floor as he adjusted his stance.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. Of course. Of course he couldn’t just leave like a normal person.

His shirt clung to his body, damp with sweat, emphasizing the broad set of his shoulders and the way his forearms flexed every time he made contact with the ball. He moved with precision, power behind every motion, muscles tensing and releasing like a well-oiled machine. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good. Infuriatingly good.

But you didn’t care about that right now.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and sighed. "Seriously, Miya? Go home."

He barely looked at you before responding. "Suck my dick."

You scoffed. "You wish. Now pack up, or I’m locking you in here."

He ignored you, setting another perfect ball into the air. That was the last straw. Marching onto the court, you grabbed the nearest volleyball and chucked it at him. He caught it effortlessly, smirking.

"You gonna help, or just be a pain in my ass?" he taunted.

You turned on your heel and stormed toward the supply closet, yanking the door open with more force than necessary. The overhead light buzzed faintly as you stepped inside, the scent of disinfectant and old volleyballs filling your nose. Without hesitation, you grabbed a laundry basket full of towels and shoved it into Atsumu’s chest the moment you returned.

“You’re gonna help clean up tonight,” you said sharply, your voice edged with exhaustion and frustration.

Atsumu scoffed, letting the weight settle against his chest. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You stayed late to practice, and I have the keys to the gym. That means you’re packing up before I lock up for the night.”

Atsumu smirked, that lazy, infuriating smirk that made your blood boil. "But you're so much better at those kinds of things, ya know? We all have our strengths."

“Oh? And what's yours?”

He shrugged. “I score points.”

You wanted to strangle him. “I mean off the court, Miya. You brainless egomaniac.”

That smirk widened. "Damn, sweetheart, say it like ya mean it."

Your entire body tensed. If there was one thing—one thing—that set your blood boiling faster than anything, it was that nickname. The way he said it, like it was his own personal joke, a word meant to patronize, to needle at you in a way that no one else dared. It was never affectionate, never playful—not in the way others might say it. No, when Atsumu called you sweetheart, it was dripping with arrogance, a smirk wrapped around syllables meant to get under your skin.

And god, did it work.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, jaw tightening so hard it ached. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

His smirk only grew, as if he had been waiting for that exact reaction. "What? Don't like it? Thought ya might warm up to it by now."

"I'd rather set myself on fire."

Atsumu chuckled, slow and smug, like he'd already won this round. "Now that is dramatic."

You threw a towel at his face, and he caught it effortlessly, his smirk widening. "Temper, temper," he taunted, shaking his head like you were the one being unreasonable. "Y'know, if ya wanted me to get all sweaty cleanin' up, ya coulda just asked nicely." You only roll your eyes in disgust.

“Take those to the supply closet. And don’t start with your usual bullshit, just do what I say for once.”

Atsumu tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something sharp. “Bossy.”

You inhaled sharply, jaw clenching. The way he looked at you—like he thrived on how easily he could rile you up—made your skin prickle. “Miya, I swear to—”

“Fine, fine,” he drawled, rolling his eyes as he slung the towels over his shoulder. His smirk deepened as he eyed you, a flicker of amusement dancing behind those infuriatingly sharp eyes. "Must be exhausting bein’ so uptight all the time. Ya ever tried just... relaxin'? Oh, wait, guess that'd require ya to actually remove that stick from  yer ass."

Your blood boiled instantly, a sharp sting of irritation spreading through your chest. Exhaustion and frustration swirled together into something combustible, something that snapped your already frayed patience. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you fought the urge to throw something harder than a towel at his smug, insufferable face. Without thinking, you stomped past him, heading into the supply closet, letting out a frustrated breath as you grabbed another piece of equipment to throw at him if necessary.

"Maybe if your setting was as reliable as your big mouth, I wouldn’t have to waste my breath on you,” you spat, voice cold and cutting.

Atsumu went rigid. His smirk flattened into something unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, burning eyes—flashed with something dark, something livid.

In an instant, he was storming after you. Before you could react, he followed you into the supply closet, his movements sharp and full of barely restrained anger. The door slammed behind him, the echo bouncing off the walls.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" His voice was low, lethal, his usual teasing edge completely gone.

You whirled around, arms crossing over your chest. "You heard me, Miya. Maybe if you focused on actually being consistent instead of running your mouth, you wouldn't have to work overtime trying to convince people you're the best."

His nostrils flared, jaw clenched so tight you could practically hear his teeth grinding. "You think I got this far by bein' inconsistent? By bein' a fuckin' joke?"

"I think you got this far because you talk so much shit, people actually start to believe it," you bit back. "But I'm not like the rest of your fangirls, Miya. Your act doesn’t work on me."

Atsumu let out a low, humorless laugh, stepping closer. Too close. "Ya really think you know me, huh?" His voice was dangerous now, quiet and sharp like a blade pressed just beneath your skin. "Yer full of shit."

"And you're full of yourself."

The air was thick, charged with something volatile, something unstable. His hands were curled into fists, his breath coming in sharp exhales. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his fury rolling off in waves.

You scoffed in disgust, shaking your head as a bitter smirk pulled at your lips. "You're pathetic."

Atsumu’s nostrils flared, his jaw tightening dangerously, but you were already turning away, reaching for the door handle to get as far away from him as possible.

Then your stomach dropped.

The knob refused to turn.

Atsumu frowned. "The hell are ya doin’?"

You twisted the knob again, harder. Still nothing.

Your throat went dry. "The door is locked."

Atsumu snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure it is." He reached out, confidently twisting the handle—

Nothing.

Atsumu frowned, twisting harder. Still nothing.

Silence.

Then, without missing a beat—

“Yeah, like I didn’t try that,” you deadpanned.

Atsumu’s scowl deepened, his frustration crackling in the air between you. "You’ve gotta be fuckin' kidding me. This is all your fault."

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. "Oh, right, because I totally planned to lock myself in a closet with you of all people."

"Yer mouth sure makes it sound like ya did." His voice was low, edged with something sharp. "Maybe ya just wanted me all to yourself."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Please. If I wanted something all to myself, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you."

Atsumu took a step closer, his presence closing in on you like a storm. "Keep talkin’, princess. Let’s see if ya can keep that smart mouth runnin’ when we’re stuck in here all night."

"Oh, fuck you, Miya," you snapped, stepping forward to meet his glare head-on. "You are without a doubt the most infuriating, self-obsessed asshole I have ever met."

His lips curled into a sneer. "And you’re the most uptight, high-strung pain in the ass I’ve ever met."

"Oh yeah? Well, at least I don’t have to spend every waking second convincing everyone I’m the best. News flash—if you actually were, you wouldn’t have to try so hard."

His eyes darkened, his entire body stiffening at your words. "You wanna talk about trying too hard? How ‘bout ya take a fuckin’ look in the mirror? Always actin’ like ya hate me, but yer always up in my business. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think ya like this."

You scoffed, tilting your head in disbelief. "God, you’re delusional."

"And you’re a fuckin’ hypocrite." He was even closer now, his breath hot, his voice tight with rage. "You always act like ya can’t stand me, but here ya are, pushin’ up against me like ya wanna make this somethin’ else."

The worst part?

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Your chests were nearly brushing, your ragged breaths intermingling. Your skin was burning, your hands clenched at your sides, every inch of you wound too tight. The anger, the frustration, the way he always got under your skin—it was all-consuming.

And then, suddenly, neither of you were talking anymore.

Atsumu’s mouth was on yours before you could process it, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was just as furious as your fights. You yanked him down by the collar, fingers tangling into the damp fabric of his shirt, pulling him in hard enough to hurt. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist, pressing you back against the closet shelves as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was years of pent-up aggression and frustration, a battle neither of you wanted to win. Teeth clashed, hands grabbed, nails dug into skin. The heat between you was unbearable, suffocating, and neither of you had the willpower to pull away.

Atsumu nipped at your bottom lip, his breath hot against your mouth as he muttered, "Knew ya wanted me."

Shut up, Miya." You bit back.

And then you kissed him again, drowning out whatever cocky response he had left.

Atsumu wasn’t satisfied with just kissing you. His frustration, his irritation, his hunger bled into every movement as he pushed forward, backing you up until your spine hit the cold surface of the supply closet door. The impact barely registered, not when his hands were gripping at your waist, fingers digging into your sides like he was trying to mark you, claim some kind of dominance even here.

You gasped against his mouth, the moment of vulnerability only spurring him on. His lips left yours for half a second—just long enough for him to smirk. “Told ya,” he murmured, voice husky, breath hot against your skin. “You just needed me to shut ya up properly.”

You barely had time to react before he was kissing you again, harder, more desperate. Your hands found their way to his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck and pulling—a move that ripped a deep, guttural groan from his throat. The sound shot straight down your spine, heat pooling in your stomach, making your breath hitch.

His hands slid down, gripping the backs of your thighs, and without a second of hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his waist. He held you effortlessly, as if supporting your weight meant nothing to him. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, making you shudder. He lingered there, his teeth scraping before his mouth latched onto your skin with deliberate pressure. You barely registered the sensation, too caught up in the heat of the moment, too focused on the way his body pressed against yours. But his smirk against your neck said otherwise—like he knew exactly what he was doing, leaving his mark before trailing his lips back to yours.

The warmth of his touch burned through the thin fabric of your clothes, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made your head spin. His hands started to wander, moving up beneath your shirt, his touch searing—

And then the door burst open.

Atsumu lost his balance. With a startled grunt, he stumbled forward, dragging you with him as you both spilled out of the closet and onto the hard gym floor.

“What the hell?!”

You barely had time to register the situation before a voice rang out above you.

“The fuck are you two doin’ in here?”

Your eyes shot up to see the janitor, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, face twisted in the most unimpressed expression you had ever seen.

Silence.

Neither you nor Atsumu moved. You were still on top of him, his hands still on your thighs, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders. The position was beyond compromising.

The janitor raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t cleanin’ up after this.”

Atsumu let out a breathless chuckle beneath you, his smirk returning full force. “Guess we got caught, huh, sweetheart?”You shoved him off you so hard he hit the floor with a thud, scrambling to your feet, face burning with embarrassment. “Shut up, Miya!”

[prettyangellllll]

No Way Out

Summary: Kildare Island has always had its fair share of secrets, but nothing compares to the masked killer that haunts its streets. A string of brutal murders has left the town on edge, and you find yourself caught in the middle of the nightmare when you start receiving calls from an unknown number. The voice on the other end is deep, teasing, and eerily familiar. As the body count rises, you realize the killer isn't just terrorizing the town—he's coming for you. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Pairing:ghost face Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Horror, slasher elements, stalking, obsession, graphic violence, blood, murder, home invasion, explicit language, psychological torment, toxic dynamics, fear play, dark themes, and strong sexual tension.

----

The first call came just after midnight.

You were alone in your house, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped tightly around you. The TV flickered, casting eerie shadows across the walls as a horror movie droned in the background. The storm outside howled through the trees, the wind rattling the windows.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table. Unknown Number.

You frowned but picked it up.

“Hello?”

Silence. Then, a deep, distorted voice hummed through the speaker. “Do you like scary movies?”

A chill ran down your spine. The question sounded too rehearsed, too much like a line from the movie playing on your screen.

“I guess,” you replied cautiously, your fingers tightening around the phone.

A low chuckle followed. “You don’t sound sure. Let’s test that.”

Your stomach twisted. “Who is this?”

The line went dead.

You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the unease crawling up your spine. It was probably just some prank. Kids messing around because of the recent murders that had shaken Kildare Island. Everyone was on edge.

But then the second call came. And the third. Each time, the voice got more familiar. Each time, the words got more personal. Until tonight.

You were in the kitchen, rinsing a glass, when the call came in. This time, your gut told you to ignore it. But something inside you—morbid curiosity, maybe—made you answer.

“You shouldn’t ignore me.” The voice was smooth, dark, laced with amusement. “That’s rude.”

Your breath hitched. “Who the hell are you?”

“You already know.”

Your heart pounded. There was something about the voice—the way it dipped at certain syllables, the teasing lilt—that struck a chord of familiarity.

Then, the power cut out.

Darkness swallowed the room, the only source of light coming from the moonlight bleeding through the window. Your heart leapt into your throat as the house fell silent.

The phone was still pressed against your ear.

“Now that I have your full attention…” The voice was closer now, like he was standing right behind you.

Your body tensed, breath coming in sharp gasps. A creak echoed from the hallway.

Someone was inside the house.

You dropped the phone and bolted, tripping over furniture in your rush to get to the front door. But as you reached for the knob, a gloved hand clamped over your mouth.

A scream never had the chance to escape.

“Shh,” the voice murmured against your ear, a ghost of amusement in his tone. “You scream, and I’ll have to make this hurt.”

You thrashed, kicking and clawing, but he was stronger. The grip on your mouth tightened, forcing your head back against his chest. And that’s when you felt it—the solid, muscular frame, the faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with something metallic.

Recognition struck like a lightning bolt.

“Rafe,” you choked out.

The grip loosened slightly, and then he laughed. “Took you long enough.”

A scream bubbled up your throat, but he spun you around, slamming you against the door. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, the hollow eyes empty, soulless. But you knew who was behind it.

Rafe Cameron.

Your mind reeled. The recent murders, the taunting calls, the way the victims had all been people connected to you. It all made sense now.

“Oh, baby,” Rafe cooed, tilting his head as he ran the tip of his knife along your jaw. “You should see your face right now.”

Your chest heaved, panic clawing at your throat. “Why?”

“Because you were supposed to be mine.”

His voice was raw, possessive. “But you kept running. Kept acting like you didn’t want this.” He pressed the cold blade against your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back. “I had to remind you.”

“By killing people?!”

“They were in the way,” he said simply, as if he hadn’t gutted half the island. His free hand trailed down your arm, gripping your wrist. “I knew it would bring you to me eventually.”

Tears blurred your vision. “You’re insane.”

Rafe grinned beneath the mask, dragging the blade lower, tracing the neckline of your shirt. “And yet, your heart is racing for me.”

You wanted to deny it, to shove him away, but fear tangled with something far more dangerous—familiarity. Rafe had always been intense, always had a darkness lurking beneath his blue eyes. You just never thought it would come to this.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear through the mask. “Say it.”

You swallowed hard. “Rafe—”

The sound of sirens wailed in the distance. His head snapped up, the moment broken.

His grip on you tightened before he sighed, almost disappointed. “Guess we’ll have to finish this later.”

Then, in a blur of movement, he was gone—disappearing into the shadows like a ghost.

Leaving you breathless, terrified… and waiting for his return.

[fictional-gods-tournament]

Round 1

Characters' info under the cut

Xie Lian (wiki)

Domains: Ascended thrice and was banished twice. First time as a Martial God, second time as a God of Misfortune, third time as a Scrap God.

Propaganda:

To ascend to godhood once is already a rarity. Twice is unheard of. But thrice??? How cool is that? He keeps getting banished by the Heavenly Emperor but the Heavens (a separate power over which the Emperor has no power over) want him up there sooooooo bad. Xie Lian is a person who once said 'Live Laugh Love' to a ghost and then said ghost took it so incredibly personally they decided to make his life living hell until he was just like them. Xie Lian went through all of that and just became kinder as a result. He spent around 800 years living with the worst luck possible of his own will just because he wanted to atone for what he had done when the ghost had nearly broken his spirit (the events preceding his second ascension). He's God's whumpiest soldier. He's an incredibly unreliable narrator because he simply Will Not think about things even if it's relevant to the story until he's face to face with them and unable to ignore them any longer. He's suffered so much physical trauma over his life that he can no longer feel pain. He starts the book not particularly healed from the trauma but he's compartmentalized it enough to be relatively stable and then the book takes a sledgehammer to every single one of his weakpoints so he can actually heal. Good thing his third ascension allowed his future husband to finally find him after the same 800 years of searching (they knew each other in the past) and he can be there to support him through it all <333 yes this book is a BL. He's gay and he gets a husband who adores him so much he defied death and literally became the world's strongest ghost by the force of his love. Xie Lian my beloved. Vote Xie Lian The loser. The layoff. The legend. It's the Trash God himself, coming back into the ring for round three. This god was kicked out of heaven and pulled back by complete accident on account of his sheer power - on more than one occasion - but he'd much rather spend his days taking naps, sweeping the floor of his little shack, and sending lavender essential oil tips in his heavenly groupchat. No one gives off great-great-great-grandpa vibes quite like he does, and when he's put his nose to the grind, he's racked up a good spectrum of feats. (Including but not limited to: a coincidental military escapade, swashbuckling, saving a falling kid from a balcony, and several horrific warcrimes.) He's perservered for 800 long years and is long overdue for a break, so here's to a peaceful future alongside his wonderful ghost husband, who would probably be cooking the celebratory meal for this tournament in interest of not giving the other competitors dysentery. As his friends could tell you, he's got a good heart, he's just a bit of a cosmic plaything sometimes - but deep down, don't we all have a clown in us? He is one of the few characters in a lot of media I’ve consumed that feels so real to me. He is a god but he is so human in his way of acting. His backstory is incredibly complex and tragic, so glad he got a rich husband in the end. He deserves everything I love him so much ohhhh my god someone more eloquent needs to write propaganda for him cause all I can say is 🥰🥰🥰🥰 Please

Celestia

Domain: The Sun

[demonbloodenthusiast]

i remember seeing this post on pinterest AGES AGO

and i scroll past it and then i'm like hold on what was that and i scroll back up but then i accidentally refresh the whole page and can't find it ANYWHERE but i just keep thinking about it for months AND THEN MONTHS LATER i start watching supernatural cause i want the same feeling as i get from my fave wolfstar au fic but i don't wanna read it again cause i'm too sick for it AND I GET INTO THE FANDOM AND REALISE THAT ONE POST I CAN'T FIND ANYWHERE IS ABOUT DESTIEL AND MONTHS LATER I FIND THIS POST AGAIN

the universe truly works in funny ways lmao

[hauntingblue]

CAUSE THIS IS THRILLER (bark), THRILLER (bark) NIGHT

Usopp's outfit is so funny for reals

He got the whole squad laughing

Luffy enablers at it again.... (Robin.... I know.....)

The humor panels so far have been so good!!! God this arc is so funny

HE SAID IT‼️‼️

They look like birds 😭😭

It's just too good... luffy taking cerberus and zombies what can't he do

It's just banger after banger what can I say

Franky feeling for other people because of his guilt complex and sanji lying through his teeth and pulling out the women excuse to seem unaffected... yeah

Look at them.... look how they ate

Omg joyboy reference?? (No)

Sanji is rubbing off on usopp.... also chopper noticing that is sogeking's weapon akdhaksjak

ANOTHER SLAY!!!!!

Their priorities: I'm not strong enough, there isn't enough food, and nami isn't here

Franky going from wanting to kill brook for his jokes to making a joke like his after he hears his backstory... exactly (Robin was already enabling him before the backstory even fdagjsfha)

Sanji is altering his body and actually being on fire to communicate to us how fucking mad he is..... I need more of him going insane I do I do

My god what is he doing ALDJALAJALA

AHSAHAHQHAH THEY ARE THE SAME!!! naaah sanji wouldn't force a woman to be his wife

You cant see me but I am nodding my head in agreement over and over

You don't understand he altered his body to communicate to us how mad he is. He inploded himself and then reconstituted again. Those germa 66 genes are insane

You tell em usopp!!!! The first of many girls you've scared into defeat!!! Akdjqknql

Zoro zombie regressed to not trusting robin akdjaks he's still in there

ROBI-CHO SUPLEX??? HELL YEAAAAAH

There is zosa- [GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT]

Super frapper gong.... he is doing combo shots with frobin... omg.... parents....

Everything is so fun I'm having such a good time reading.... and then zosan angst like damn I am being fed well here

[quietwingsinthesky]

the last unicorn post from earlier has me thinking about the master. that yana is still in there, you know? is still someone he was, if even for a brief flash across the life of a time lord. there’s no way to unlive that life. there are ways to twist it later, sure, to make utopia into hell on earth. but the life was lived. in much the same way that the doctor can remember, can feel, the love he held onto as john smith even as that life is ripped out of his hands. the doctor choose denial and then grief and then to shutter it all away. and so john smith died, and so professor yana died, and the doctor and the master live on. the doctor has done this before, and he lives in orbit around humanity, trying to keep the best parts of them and hold them deep enough to take root (which he can pretend he gets to choose, as a time lord. as a human, it all floods in and can’t be dug back out.) but what about the master, right?

to borrow a turn of phrase: i think there are two time lords left in the universe, and they both learned how to regret.

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

no yeah i really love how every core 4 member got a real happy ending....except for ej

nini is happily pursuing music in la with her moms' full support

ricky is dating gina, a girl he calls "home". he's finally becoming more at peace with love and how to show it. he's learned how to not run from his problems. his parents are getting back together (???) and his drama teacher wrote such a good letter of recommendation that he was accepted into a community college

gina becomes a literal movie star and was able to change the filming location of her second movie, without any consequences, to salt lake so she can physically be with ricky, the boy she finally got to date after crushing on him since the day they met. she has a permanent home to call her own now. her mom finally showed up to an opening night and she was finally able to portray gabriella

and then ej...is alone (in a wildcat sense) at college, financially cut off from his family, working multiple jobs to afford it. he spends most of his season 4 screentime guiding and helping others (ricky, gina, miss jenn, madlyn) instead of an actual storyline and a lot of his lines were about how he's made mistakes and has to live with them

[satorugojoswiife]

for anyone playing the global release of phantom parade !!

Feel free to use my invite code: e6GUmUWzAPEJ (so we both get cubes lol)

Also feel free to add me to your friends c: I'll follow everyone i can back!! 2u5s28z8sven0

[jrueships]

guess whos not going in at all this week, actually

[pride-of-storm]

on the one hand 'i get to put up whatever shower curtain i want' is kind of a stupid hill to die on, but on the other hand i have acknowledged your claim on every other hill i could have picked, so fuckin acknowledge my claim on this one