#ok no more tags im tired rn

[tzarrz]

i listen to fog lake too much

[chiistarri]

me when ihave a dream about my 3rh closest friends all beyeaying me 🤯🤯🤯

[pikachu-is-gay]

learning how to play a select few piano lines from sad songs about wanting to die so that whenever im at a function with an available piano i can identify the other queer people with middle school relationship trauma

[agayconcept]

.

[cheriecrushed]

ok other doodles i made today other than like the cringetober thing

erm this is just a doodle page with an oc i havent drawn in a WHILE... her name is luna and uh she has 4 arms and yeah... ill probably go more into her lore another time.. (warning its terrible)

ok so uhm. this is my oc quinn. and i was talking to my friend about drawing him in a pose and like. uhm. my friend told me to draw him with a gyaru style so. i did... so thats my terrible attempt.

[bigfreakinfrog]

just saw a post saying elias cared absolutely nothing for jon and just saw him as a tool and nonoono how can you be so wrong

he put everything into jon. he CREATED him. jon delivered to jonah his apocalypse

he told jon good luck as his dying words

[ilostyou]

lallaaalalala just some things on my mind

[monsterbisexual]

things have been scary n hard n a lot but i do feel good sometimes..theres good things too they might not seem like big things or as meaningful but it still matters n makes a difference! things might get scarier n harder etc overall n probs will at least sometimes.. even when it feels like things shld be easy theyre usually not but im trying ! n thats smth i suppose

[nomairuins]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[pyrriax]

what if i just waited to post stuff until i've got my current three Ideas written

just post em all back to back and then sleep for a week

[ !! venting in the tags !! ]

[rosyblooom]

chicken shop date | cl16 smau

pairing: charles leclerc x fem youtuber!reader

summary: y/n hosts a popular youtube channel where she invites various celebrities to have a 'chicken shop date'. in this upcoming episode, she welcomes famous formula 1 driver, charles leclerc.

a/n: all my love to amelia, i love her vids🫶🫶 also, pls lmk what u think :)

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading! thank uu!! :)

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▯▯▯▯▯▯▯▯

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯

21st of March, 2024

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: red 4 🏎️🏎️🏎️ ]

[ caption: chicken shop date out on saturday!!! xx ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: aussie aussie aussie 🦘 ]

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbfusername, landonorris and 137,923 others

yourusername i love you australia xx

view all 4,831 comments

yourbfusername third pic 👀👀

yourusername 🤫 username that's suspicious...

username ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE????

username flying across the globe for a chicken shop date??? oh this is serious guys

username nah she's just rich lol username i'll be sad if they're just playing in our faces

username y/n becoming a ferrari girl was NOT on my bingo cards😀

charles_leclerc ❤️

yourusername 🥰🥰 username so the plot thickens username love u charlie🫶🫶

username y/n don't play with me rn. are you dating charles or nah

(liked by author)

username girl it's been 84 years we are tired of the games😭 username 'liked by author' WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

landonorris here for mclaren i'm hoping

yourusername i- sure! username oooh it's the lying for me miss

22nd of March, 2024

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username, and 8,239 others

f1gossipofficial After arriving in Australia last night and posting a picture hugging who fans believe to be Charles Leclerc, Y/N L/N made her F1 debut this morning during the practice sessions.

She and Charles appeared to be very close, only further fuelling the dating rumours that have been circulating the internet for the past month. As of yet, however, neither of the pair has confirmed nor denied the ongoing rumours.

view all 273 comments

username bruh how hard is a "we're dating/we're not dating."😑

username lmao are you ok?? they don't owe us anything

username Y/N as an f1 wag???? OH HOW I USED TO PRAY FOR THESE TIMES

username aw she's so pretty

username a chicken shop date episode with charles is dropping tmrw so i think it's all pretend

username oh yeahhhh I almost forgot username but travelling all across the world for that seems a little excessive? she's literally already super successful ygm username pretending for over 4 weeks is nasty work😫

username did anyone see the way he looks at her though????😍

username RIGHT?? THEYRE SO CUTE OMG😭

23rd of March, 2024

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: this is more like it 😌 ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

charles_leclerc posted to his story!

[ caption: Lucky charm secured ❤️ ]

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbfusername, landonorris and 277,004 others

yourusername chicken shop date with @charles_leclerc OUT NOW!! hope it's an uncomfortable watch xx

view all 4,992 comments

username 10/10 awkwardness, I had to pause multiple times. truly hated it, keep posting more!

yourusername thank u thank u. will do🫡 username loool Y/N ilysm

username Y/N ARE YALL DATING OR NAH??? IM SO CONFUSED

username u and me both😭😭 username idc if it's delusional i'm just gonna pretend they are🥰🥰 username ignorance is bliss babe✨😌

yourbfusername wait you guys are lowkey cute🧐

yourusername *highkey username OMG IS THIS A CONFIRMATION??? WE WONNNN username just fell to my knees in tesco pls don't be joking Y/N😭

charles_leclerc Avez-vous déjà pratiqué votre français ? (have you even been practising your french?)

yourusername oui oui 😌 username she's actually got it lmaoo who would've thought💀

username LMAO Y/N not "what are we?" why are you like this💀💀

username that's so real of her tbh

2:35 ───ㅇ───────── 7:55

The YouTube video begins with a series of clips showing Y/N and Charles laughing, with intermittent shots of Y/N looking directly at the screen. The familiar tune of Y/N's 'chicken shop date' videos begins as stop-motion hearts flutter across the screen, transitioning smoothly to a scene featuring two dolls seated in a miniature chicken shop date setting, seamlessly leading into the main content of the video.

"Charles Leclerc," Y/N warmly greets, resting her elbows on the table. "Welcome to our date."

Charles responds with a smile, settling back in his seat and gesturing around. "Y/N Y/LN, thank you. I'm very happy to be on our first date... here... with all these cameras," he remarks jokingly.

Y/N narrows her eyes slightly, briefly glancing around before refocusing on Charles with a hum. "I'm not sure what you're implying. This location is a solid 10 out of 10," she says, gesturing to their surroundings. "Besides, do you see the chicken?" she adds, plucking a single fry from her meal box and waving it in the air, awaiting his response.

"You mean the fry?" Charles chuckles, pointing. "That's not chicken."

Y/N takes a bite of the fry, pausing to swallow before clearing her throat. "I'm aware," she says with a dramatic tilt of her head and a tight-lipped smile. "I just grabbed it because I fancied a fry." 

"But anyway," she continues, circling back to the initial question, "do... you... see... the... chicken?" Sensing his hesitation, she places her hands firmly on the table. "Look at me. It's a simple yes or no, Charles."

"Well, actually, it's yes or yes," she corrects herself with two affirmative nods, before redirecting her attention back to him.

Charles responds with a smile, though his expression betrays his confusion, evident in the different angles of his raised eyebrows. "Yes, I see it, Y/N."

"And do you taste it?" Y/N asks slowly.

"I haven't yet..."

"So, what are you waiting for?" she claps her hands together, motioning towards the untouched box of food in front of him. "Don't be shy now."

Charles chuckles as he sits up in his chair and leans forward, rummaging through the food before pulling out a chicken nugget. As he dips the piece in some ketchup, his eyes meet Y/N's once more, her wide-eyed nod urging him on.

"Go on."

"Okay, okay," he says, taking a bite. "Mmm," he nods, almost as if someone were holding a gun to his head, compelling him to do so.

"Oh," Y/N purses her lips and shakes her head, "I don't like it when people make noises while eating."

"Uh," Charles swallows and chuckles, "sorry?"

Y/N shrugs. "It's okay, I forgive you."

"Anyway," she inhales deeply, "what do you think? That's some good chicken, right?"

"Yeah, actually, it is really good," Charles nods as he speaks.

Suddenly, the video cuts to a staff member in chicken shop attire standing behind the counter, wearing a smile while staring at the camera, unmoving.

Then, the video returns to Charles and Y/N.

As Charles takes another bite of his chicken nugget, Y/N casually asks, "Do you think our children will like chicken?"

Coughing sounds interrupt as Charles drops his chicken into the box, knocking his fist against his chest until the sound clears. His voice croaks as he speaks, his brows furrowing, "Our children? We're talking about children already?"

Y/N's composure cracks slightly as she chuckles, clearly amused by his reaction, and observes him reaching for a glass of water, taking large gulps. However, she quickly regains control, shrugging nonchalantly before continuing, "Well, yeah. I don't know about you, but I date for marriage—I want a little family of my own someday. Don't you?"

Charles rubs his eyebrows and places the glass back on the table. "Yes, I do want to have a family one day. But this feels like it's moving very fast, don't you think?"

Y/N shakes her head. "Not at all. To be honest, I want one boy and one girl. What about you?"

At Y/N's continued forwardness, Charles releases a laugh, visibly bewildered, before scratching at his beard in deep thought. Propping up his elbows on the table, he finally responds, "I think I want a boy."

"—And a girl," Y/N interjects, smiling expectantly.

Charles blurts out a laugh, clearly taken aback, before nodding. "Yeah, a girl too. I don't really mind."

"Great, so we're on the same page then."

The video cuts off again, this time to the entrance of the chicken shop, slowly panning into the empty and bright interior with multiple tables and chairs. The camera stops on the large menu, featuring pictures of chicken and fries, lingering for a few moments before cutting back to Charles and Y/N. 

However, this time Y/N is holding a piece of paper in front of her.

"So, I hear you're French?" Y/N glances up at Charles, noticing the grimace on his face. Quickly realising her mistake, she corrects herself, "Oh, hold on, no wait, don't kill me please. You speak French, but you're from Monaco—you don't claim France at all."

Charles laughs and nods in agreement. "Correct. I am Monegasque. Those are separate countries, yes."

Y/N purses her lips, her eyes flickering from side to side. "I know, I literally just said that." Clicking her tongue, she exhales a long breath and continues, "Anyway, what a coincidence. I'm actually trying to learn French."

Something flashes in Charles' eyes as he suddenly leans forward in his chair, his expression filled with keen interest. "Oh wow, tu l'es ? Comment vas-tu ?" (translation: "Oh wow, you are? How are you?")

Y/N freezes, her mouth parted slightly in a half-smile. For a moment, she just stares, clearly startled, before scratching the back of her neck and humming deep in thought. "Oh, okay, straight into the deep end, huh?" she chuckles and then blurts out, "Oui, oui?"

Charles tosses his head back, laughing, while Y/N folds her hands together, waiting expressionless for his laughter to subside. When he finally regains his composure, his eyes back on Y/N, she says, "Great, thanks."

"I'm sorry," Charles waves his hand in the air, "I just thought you'd know the basics already. My mistake."

Y/N narrows her gaze at him for a few moments before taking a deep breath. "Well, that's what I've got you here for." Clearing her throat, she tilts her gaze down at the paper and asks, "Let's start easy, shall we? I'm going to give you a few sentences in French, and you translate them back to me in English."

Charles furrows his brows. "Wouldn't it make more sense the other way around?"

"What can I say, I'm special," she shrugs, "I actually learn better this way."

"Ah, of course you are."

"Alright. Je t'aime."

"I love you," says Charles.

Y/N places her hand across her chest. "Aw, Charles. Dropping the L-bomb already, are we?"

Charles drags his teeth across his lower lip while shaking his head. "Next one, please."

“Veux-tu m'épouser?" (translation: "Will you marry me?")

Charles tilts his head sideways, an amused expression spreading across his face. “Seriously?”

Y/N clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t quite sound right. I think you might need to brush up on your French, Charles, because I’m pretty sure ‘Veux-tu m'épouser’ does not mean ‘seriously.’”

Exhaling a long breath, she rotates in her seat and straightens up. “Don’t worry though, I’ll give you another chance.”

Charles rolls his eyes playfully before releasing a whistle. Rubbing his hands together, he begins, “Will you marry me. That’s what it mea—”

“Charles!” Y/N's jaw drops as she interrupts him. “Well, I’m a hot commodity, you know? But I want to know, how would our marriage work? I mean, how long are you planning on racing, anyway?”

Charles smiles, slumping into his seat as he reaches for a fry and tosses it into his mouth. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I love racing and I want to be a world champion, so we’ll just have to see how long that takes.”

“You want to be a world champion, yet you extended your contract with Ferrari?” Y/N's brows furrow inquisitively. “That’s an interesting choice.”

A couple of chuckles escape Charles as he runs his hand up and down his neck, his gaze fixed on the half-empty box of food before him. After a moment's pause, he replies with a casual shrug, “They're like family to me. And honestly, when I see myself winning, it’s always with the Ferrari team by my side.”

“Fair enough,” Y/N exhales, her eyes widening as she claps her hands together. “I suppose I'll have to stock up on red outfits.”

Noticing Charles’ puzzled expression, Y/N theatrically rolls her eyes before explaining, “For our next date, silly. I’ll be your lucky charm, and then you can finally start winning and have a real shot at the World Championship.”

“Wow, how nice of you, Y/N,” Charles responds with a lazy smile. “Merci.”

“Oooh,” Y/N points at him, nodding in satisfaction, “I know that one. You’re welcome…”

“…Boyfriend?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. “What—what are we?”

He ponders for a moment, swaying slightly from side to side, then relents, “Okay, sure… girlfriend.”

The video cuts to the outro, displaying various polaroids of Y/N flashing by, accompanied by a text reading, ‘If you enjoyed the video, please don’t forget to like and subscribe for more! xx’.

24th of March, 2024

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: early day😴😴 ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username and 4,723 others

f1gossipofficial Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc have been spotted entering the Paddock together. Numerous sources have also confirmed seeing them exchange a few kisses.

As always, wishing the drivers all the best for today's race!

view all 269 comments

username oh we're so on

username the world is healing

username who would've thought being awkward is how to pull charles leclerc💀

username ig this means we all have a chance username lmaooo i need u to be so fr

username ugh I don't see the hype?? that video made me so uncomfortable, she's such a weirdo

username nobody cares bruh

username mhm iktr😌 we love to see it

f1

liked by yourusername, carlossaiz55, username and 324,076 others

f1 Carlando back on the podium together! Congrats to Carlos Sainz, Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc on their wins! Huge accomplishments!

#F1 #Formula1 #AusGP

view all 248 comments

username CARLANDO LETS GOOOOOO

username aw they all deserved it I'm so happy for them😭🫶

username carlos the man that you are❤️

yourusername 🥳👏

username seeing Y/N become an actual f1 girl🤧 username please treat charles well for us🥹

username lfg 💪

yourusername

liked by yourbfusername, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 263,014 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername as the french say 'soo la voo' or whatever xxx

view all 5902 comments

charles_leclerc close enough🤣

yourusername je t'aime ❤️ username OMGG??????? AHHH KICKING MY FEET🥰 username wow we've literally gone full circle🤧 username he fell first she fell harder tease🥹

username NOOOO CHARLIE NOT HER :(

username girl shut up

yourbfusername lool cuties <33

yourusername bby 🫶

username is- is this what it feels like to win?😭❤️❤️

7:35 ───────────ㅇ─ 7:55

hope u enjoyed! thoughts are appreciated! <3

[ppushable]

two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

.

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

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would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

[wildglitch]

Spider-man x Batfam Prompt's

Ok so lately I have seen a lot of "Spidy goes to gotham and gets adopted fics" probably cause of Dark Matter by mysterycyclone cause like, duh, that fic is a goddamn masterpiece. But I feel like a lot of them are sort of the same thing with diffrent fonts ans it feels a bit saturated. Not all of them...but most of them.

Am I saying that there needs to be less of these fics? Hell no! Keep writing them please. I just feel like there could be more variety is all.

I suggest maybe try one of these ideas out

1: Peter going straight to the Batfam or other heros (dosent always have to be Batfam) and they try to work together on how to get him home, while slowly realizing "omg, your life is terrible! We want to help you, we do, but maybe we shouldnt and try to give you a better life here. Then its just a moral delema on what to do as they get to know the spider child.

2: maybe another Spider-man is the one that goes to Hotham like Andrew or Toby. Insted of being sent home at the end of NWH, they where accidentally sent to the DCU. Or maybe one of the Spider verse characters or a cartoon version of the character. Dosent always need to be Toms Spider-man.

3: on that same note. Please give more love to What If...Zombies Peter. You guys have no Idea the amount of angst and "haha, my world ended and im fine" potental there is. And you can have the other surviving member also be there as they look for eachother (characters that "survived* (no one survived that episode) are Peter, King T'challa, Scott Lang+cape, and Ig Bruce Baner/Hulk, and Bucky Barnes since we never saw them get turned or eaten) just think about Spidey and the Batfam investigating a lab or sometbing and all of a sudden they find floating head Scott in a crate. Everyone if scared shitless while Peter is crying tires of joy as he moves to hug the floating head. Think about that and tell me Im not on to something here.

4: Have the fic start our like halfway through. Maybe skip him getting to Gotham and have him be there for a few months already or something. This will help with adding more crack fics.

5: Maybe have the fic be that Peter is there for a while, he knows everyone, they know him, they might or might not know the identitys but they trust eachother. And Peter has been looking for a way home and he finally finds it! But... he accidentally brings some of the Batfam with him. So now its the Batfams turn to learn to live in the MCU with help of Spidy and they finally understand so much about him, how he lived, and vigilanties he knows (team red!) As they learn the history and pubilc opinion or Spider-man and the world.

6: Just a react to fic. Yk, those fics where they're stuffed in a room and forced to watch something? Yeah. Have the Dark Matter cast stuffed in a room and watch some MCU clips. It dosent even have to be some magic forth wall bull shit if you dont like that. In chapter 44, Peter and co. are said to be going back to the cave, and Peter still have is suit. Canonically, Karen records everything. Maybe Peter ends up so tired he dosent even want to try to explain everything. So he just hooks up Karen to the computer and and has her show them everything from the suits recordings to security cameras and news reports, to the memes and videos spiderman fans have made.

7: have the Justice League get involed cause "Hes to bright to be one of yours Bruce!" And have him be a honorary member of the league of have them put him on Young Justice. Peter gets adopted by Batfam? Yes. Peter becomeing Bffs with the Young Justice kids and actually forming normal relationships with kids his age? Also yes.

Do I have more? Probably but Im too lazy for it rn

If you for some reason use one of my ideas, pls tag me and maybe credit me for the original idea (but I mostly want to be able to find the fic if you do make it ( o_o) )

Who knows, I might just write some of these myself if I ever get the motivation lol

[discoveredreality]

OMG AVFSVFDSVFAVHSC CONGRATULATIONS ON 200! YOU DESERVE ALL OF THEM, IM SO GLAD IM ONE OF THEM <333

Please may I request a ✨ or a 🌷? Whichever is more convenient for you lol

Anyways have a wonderful dayyyy! Ilysm <33333

bro did u not see the 'send one request per ask' smh 😔😔😔

pls send another ask for 🌷<3333333333 or dont ill just make a separate post and tag u lol

i'm only going to do the moodboard for now lol but i'm going to write the letter later cause i cant fucking get up rn im tired ok 😭😭😭

anyways here u go <3 (letter coming soon hopefully :D)

green like ur blog rn lmao

also the quality is like lowkey shit idk why 😭😭😭

idk if u click on it it's fine??? pls click on it istg it's not that bad😭

also there were a bunch of images i put in the moodboard but didnt use 😭😭😭i cant bear them not getting recognition so here

[cumulativechaos]

@scarrletmoon thanks for the tag! this was a fun way to make the slower hours of work pass quicker

3 ships

three ofmd ships bc the grip this show has on me is insane. three ed ships specifically bc he’s my most beloved babygirl

ed/stede (otp of all time)

ed/frenchie (rarepair white whale)

ed/the crew (not enough fics abt ed getting to be the specialest princess at the bimonthly crew orgy)

first ship

ok so im gonna be real. i think my first ship ever was simba/nala from the lion king but specifically as portrayed by me via my stuffed animals. and i had an actual child simba stuffed animal but the toy i used for nala was not actually nala. i don’t think it was even a lion like it was some sort of black and white spotted cat thing. maybe a leopard?? idk.

alternative answer: my first-ever OCs and by OCs i mean the personalities i invented these two webkinz

every time i reminisce about my childhood i get blown away by the fact that i’m not more of a furry

last song

i genuinely can’t remember when the last time i deliberately listened to music was and yes i’m aware this makes me sound insane. in my defense i get easily overstimulated if i play music while i’m tired and i’ve been exhausted for months on end.

i guess i’ve had casual by chappell roan stuck in my head for a few days so let’s go with that

last movie

deadpool & wolverine babeyyyyyy! very fun movie to see in the theaters with. My Father

currently reading

various ofmd fics and also hitchhikers guide to the galaxy and also bunny by mona awad

currently watching

ummm nothing atm but i did finish rewatching gravity falls a few weeks ago. good show 👍

currently eating

uhhhhh well i’m gargling salt water rn bc my throat feels gross but idt that counts as eating. last time i ate food was a few hours ago when i had buffalo garlic knots + a slice of cheese pizza i put some of the buffalo garlic sauce on, courtesy of my boss who ordered delivery for us for no reason. eating this at 3am was probably a mistake, i have shit like 4 times since then.

current craving

i want to go to bed. so badly. god i hope i can clock out by like 7:30 today that would be soooooo so so sexy. fingers crossed that shift change report doesn’t take 8thousanf years like it did two days ago

tagging: nobody bc it is 6am and i can’t think of people. if u want to do this u can reblog it from me i’m giving u permission even if i have no idea who you are