#you'll see eventually dw

[key-lime-soda]

other good news: I finally settled on mizuchi's design (way too late tbh)

[romnianistan]

i don't consider the bapo new york workshop to be canon (considering most of the changes never made it to any official production/cast recording) however i think they provide some very interesting insight into the characters. for example during the dialogue part between confession and portrait of a girl you've got the girls and nadia talking shit about ivy ("the girl is like the anti-Mary, so many men have touched her it's a miracle she hasn't conceived") then the stage directions go "Ivy overhears and walks off. Jason stops her" and that's when Jason tells her "hey, chantelle says your drawing looks great". and i think this says a lot about jason's character. he is smart and notices a lot of things. he is aware of how fast rumours can travel and how they can ruin someone's reputation. but he is also kind and feels for ivy because he knows exactly how awful it'd be if rumours were going around about him too. i think he sees himself in her. and i also think it's very sweet (in a sad way) that their relationship started with him simply trying to comfort her and letting her know she's not alone despite the bullying she's facing. they could have had such a sweet friendship if things hadn't escalated the way they did

[pommigranite]

teehee i'm plotting and scheming and chuckling mischievously

[eudikot]

It's all coming together

[stsebastianonhisknees]

do you ever feel a little switch flip in your brain and suddenly you realize oh! ah. it was the gender... interesting....

[fxllfaiiry]

─ callin' it quits now, baby, I'm a wreck ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: the aftermath of the argument with miguel.

✶ warnings: angst, hurt with comfort, occ miguel (for one scene only dw), shitty humour, one or two swear words, reader being slightly mean, mentions of death.

✶ notes: part two of "you're the sunflower" this part was originally 8k words long and i was like nope, so i had to cut it down, I'm sorry. I really hope this isn't bad ‼️

At first, you didn't quit the team. 

After the blow-up with Miguel, you thought about leaving the team for good, but yet you decided to show up, hanging around for a bit before quickly leaving. 

But slowly you stopped showing up altogether. The looks of pity were too much for you to handle, and frankly, you deserve an apology, you deserved better.

Every day was torture, and seeing Miguel only made it worse. No one thought this whole ordeal would go this far. 

Everyone noticed the changes, you were more serious, and your usual sunshine self was gone at this point. Everyone noticed the day you stopped coming in. 

You felt so lonely, sure, you had friends in your universe but yet, nothing felt the same. You sometimes wondered if they missed you or not. 

It had only been a few weeks and yet it felt like months. 

A part of you secretly hoped someone from the team would show up at your doorstep pleading for you to come back, but nothing. 

"You'll get used to it eventually" You'd tell yourself. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It had been two whole months since you left. Nothing felt the same without you. 

"Does anyone else miss Sunflower?" Gwen said sadly. She missed your hugs, and your little girl talks with her, she missed everything about you.  

"We all miss her, kid," Peter sighed. Without you, he had no one to talk to about Mayday. 

"I hope she comes back soon," Miles said. 

"I think she just wants space right now," Pavitr replied.  

"This is all Miguel's fault y'know?" Hobie added bitterly, how dare Miguel take his friend away from him. 

"Someone should talk to him, maybe if he apologizes, she'll come back." Miles was hopeful, he knew you'd come back eventually. 

"Sure, kid. As if Miguel ever listens." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Miguel on the other hand was depressed. 

He'd gotten used to your presence and it felt odd without you.

He felt horrible about yelling at you but he was scared. The thought of you dying terrified him, and his way of dealing with that wasn't the best. 

He thought about apologizing many times, but he didn't know how to. The last thing he wanted was to cause more damage. 

"You know a simple "sorry" could fix this all right?" Lyla said, breaking him out of his trance. 

"It's not that easy, Lyla." He sounded so broken to his own ears. 

"Well, you gotta try, Boss." 

"Sunflower used to call me that." 

"You're joking, right? Wow, you really are pathetic." Lyla snorted. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Dude, you're in love with her. You are absolutely smitten." 

"Lyla, that's enough-" 

"No, you love her and that's why it's bothering you so much." 

"I don't-" 

"Nah, Lyla's right, you do love her." He turned around to see Jess standing in his office. 

"Jess, not you too, and where did you come from?" Miguel groaned, he did not love you. 

"The door…? Anyways, just try to fix things, the first step is you apologizing." Jess stated matter-of-factly. 

Miguel thought about it for a minute, these last few weeks had been pure torture for him, Jess was right, the first step is apologizing.

"Fine, I'll do it first thing tomorrow, but I don't love her." 

"Sure, whatever you say, man." Jess snickered. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You got somewhat used to your new life. It was the same old plain routine every day. You tried to throw yourself into other things. Finding new hobbies, jobs, literally anything. 

But eventually, it all started to feel okay.

Things were finally starting to look good for you. 

You thought about the spider society way less and finally started living your life to the fullest. 

You were moving on. 

Crime fighting was easy today. You got to hang out with your friends and an old lady gave you a cheerio, which is something. 

You swung around the city for a bit, enjoying the view and temporary peace. 

Soon it was time for you to head back home. You climbed in through your bedroom window and quickly changed out of your suit, slipping into more comfortable clothing.  

When you went downstairs to get some food, you weren't expecting to see Miguel O'Hara sitting on your couch. 

"Holy shit, what are you doing here?" You scared him, because he jumped violently at the sound of your voice. 

"I was here t-"

"Humiliate me further? Because I thought we were done with that." You felt bad saying that, but he deserved it. 

"No, I'm here to apologize." He looked down, ashamed. 

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" You chuckled bitterly, walking past him into the kitchen. 

"Just listen to me for a second." 

"I thought I was incapable of doing that." You muttered to yourself. 

He got up and strode towards you, but he received no acknowledgment of his presence. 

"I'm sorry for yelling at you in front of everyone; it was wrong and I shouldn't have acted so immaturely." 

"Uh-huh, it's fine. You can leave now, the door's right there." You weren't buying his ridiculous apology. Even a five-year-old could do better. 

"I understand you're mad, but please give me a chance." That was pretty much the last straw for you.

"I'm mad? You humiliated me in front of everyone! You made me feel like shit, you made me think I don't belong on the team! You're an asshole." You were screaming at him, taking out all the anger and sadness you felt in the past two months.

"I'm sorry." He sounded so small, so vulnerable, and for the second time in his life, he didn't know what to do. 

"The best you can say is I'm sorry? At least give me a proper explanation." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

"I'm in love with you." What? 

"Right, if you're here to joke around and mock me just leave okay."  You open up to him and he mocks you in return. Amazing.

"I'm being serious. I'm not mocking you or joking around, I'm in love with you. You want an explanation, so I'm giving you one." He breathed, looking at you hoping to receive some reaction. All he got was a small head tilt which he took as a sign to continue. 

"The reason I yelled at you was because I was scared. I thought you were going to die and that terrified me, I've lost everything, and I don't want to lose you too. I didn't know how to handle it, so I lashed out. I truly am sorry, Sunflower." You froze trying to process everything, was he telling the truth? 

"Lyla and Jess helped me realize my true feelings for you." He whispered. 

When you said nothing for a few minutes he started to get scared, he was ready to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to. 

"Can you… say something? Please?"

"I can't forgive you just yet." He would never admit to what happened next but he started sobbing. All this was too much, being vulnerable was an unknown feeling to him. 

"Woah, wait hey, don't cry. Let me-" Before you could finish your sentence he fell to his knees, arms clutching your waist like a lifeline. 

You were beyond confused, you thought this whole interaction was some sort of weird dream. Miguel O'Hara down on his knees, for you? Wow, two months ago you would've scoffed and rolled your eyes at that. 

Nonetheless, you ran your fingers through his hair trying to soothe him. 

"Miguel, honey, listen to me. Just because I'm not ready to forgive you now, doesn't mean I never will." His face was still squished against your midriff, and his breathing was slowly returning to normal, with a few sniffs here and there. 

"So, you'll come back?" Seeing him in such a state broke your heart, you were still upset with him but were willing to give him a chance. 

"Yes, I'll come back tomorrow." At that, he smiled properly for the first time in weeks. 

He stayed there for a few moments, letting you comb through his hair gently, he would cherish this brief moment forever. 

"I should get going then. The multiverse needs saving." He said hoarsely, standing up, he was slightly embarrassed by this side of him. 

"Maybe use the door this time." He lightly chuckled at your statement, the warm feeling took over him once again.

Miguel did not want to leave, he wanted to stay here with you, but he knew that wasn't an option right now.

Before he left he had to get one last thing off his chest.

"Could you, not tel-" 

"Tell anyone about this? Don't worry, this stays between us only." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Everyone was surprised to see you back the next day. 

The second you walked in, everyone was all over you, hugging you and filling you in on everything you missed. It felt good to be back. 

"I'm so happy you're back," Gwen whispered, hugging you tightly. 

"I'm happy to be back, Gwendy. I missed you guys so much." 

"Hey quit hogging Sunflower, it's my turn to hug her now." Miles huffed impatiently. 

"Me next!" Pavitr bounced enthusiastically. 

"Hey, not cool. I called dibs, man." Hobie groaned. 

"Hey, Sunflower, I have some new pictures of Mayday to show you." Everyone was so excited to see you again, it was chaotic, but it felt like home. They were your family. 

Miguel watched the scene from afar with a smile, he was glad everything was okay now. 

"So you fixed things up with her, huh?" Jess said, popping up behind him, once again taking him by surprise. 

"¡Ay, coño! Jess, stop doing that." 

"Sorry, not my fault you don't have a spidy sense." Jess hummed. "So, how did you get her to forgive you?" 

"I have my ways." 

"You got down on your knees and begged her, didn't you?"

"How did you know?" Miguel whisper-yelled. That was supposed to be a secret. 

"I have my ways." Jess winked. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

In a few weeks, everything was back to normal, you were back to your old self again. 

Except for the fact that you and Miguel were now closer than ever. That was new. 

You were always by his side, sticking close to him and he felt comfortable around you, always relaxed in your presence. 

He wasn't sure if you forgave him just yet, but he was willing to wait for as long as you needed. 

He did small things to show you he cared, sometimes it was bringing you coffee, other times it was giving you your favorite flowers. 

You knew he was sorry, and in your heart, you forgave him a long time back. 

So, you finally decided to tell him. 

You guys were in his office having lunch, he didn't like to eat out in the cafeteria. You both would usually sit in silence enjoying each other's company. 

"Hey, Miguel." 

"Hm?" 

"I forgive you." 

He raised his eyebrows in confusion taking a moment to realise what you meant. When he finally got it, his eyes widened almost comically. 

"Oh, you do?" He was trying to hide his smile but failed horribly. 

"I forgave you a long time back, but I just… needed some time." You nodded.  

"I understand that. Thank you for giving me another chance." 

"Actually, to forgive you fully, I want one thing from you." You declared, confidently. 

"I'll do anything, Sunflower." He'd indeed do anything for you. 

"I want you to go out on a date with me." 

His brain stopped working. You were asking him out on a date. 

"Miguel? Is that a yes or no?" You grew nervous at his lack of response. Did you cross boundaries? You thought he liked you. 

"I would love to." You quickly beamed at his response, after months of waiting it was finally happening. 

"So, how about tomorrow, at 7?" You giggled. 

"Sounds perfect." He sighed, softly smiling. 

He couldn't wait for tomorrow. 

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Previous Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Next Pt. 4

!Warnings: angst, angst and more angst, fake!texts, swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: Sorry but I really needed to do this, my heart desires this angst rn but dw y'all get ur happy ending (reader will throw chan off a building and gets married to jay why papi😍)✨

You were walking at a river, listening to a story one of your friends is telling, when you receive a message.

You groan and take out you phone to answer back as quickly as possible, but when you saw what the message was about, you were the one that nearly collapsed.

You didn't mean to be that mean, you really didn't but it just pissed you off so much. He hurt you and now he's expecting you to just come over and act like nothing ever happened?? You did care about him, a lot, but rightnow, you don't even know if you care about him since he's your boyfriend, or because he's a human being. Either way, you don't plan on forgiving him, not yet, not since it's been a week and there hasn't been even one message or apology.

"Y/n? Y/nnnnnnn everything okay????? You've been staring at your phone for minutes." Rin, one of your friends, asks you, as you were standing still, staring at your conversation with Felix.

"I'm...fine..just something..... unnecessary" you shove your phone back in your bag "Let's not mind it. How about we'll go shopping?" They all agreed on going shopping, but you honestly weren't in the mood for a fun day anymore, not when your mind keeps wandering to chan. Even if he was an asshole...you still love him.

xxxxxxxx

Later that evening, you drove over to the hospital chan was at, to "just drop off a bag" of fresh clothing for him tomorrow.

Earlier that day you asked Felix not to drop anything off and that you'll do it later, also asking him about Chan's state. Apparently he fainted due to stress, lack of sleep and also a sudden panic where his heartbeat wasn't quick enough to exchange the oxygen in his body fast enough, so it was in fact not your fault.

Well, not all at least.

You were just going to take a quick look at him, to make sure he's not dead. You love him after all... You can't just stop caring for him, you just wanted to see that he's okay...it's been a week and to be honest, you did miss him, somehow.

So here you sit, next to his bed, watching him sleep peacefully. The nurses let you in, when you said you'd quickly drop off his bag.

You just stared at his face for a while, before standing up and giving him a quick peck on his lips before walking towards the door, turning around when he mumbles out your name.

Oh this voice. His voice. How you missed hearing your name with that voice, from him. But instead of saying anything, you quickly and quietly get out of the room. You didn't wanna talk to him and you also don't want to give him the joy of knowing, that you still miss him after what he said.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning you were awoken by messages blowing up your phone and were close to a heart attack when you didn't recognize your surroundings, when you realize that you moved in your new apartment early, so you wouldn't wake up to a half dead chan banging at your door.

Instead, that half dead oldie decided to blow up your phone.

You turn you phone off, lay it on the nightstand, cover yourself with your blanket and.... Cry.

What did you do? Why did you say that? And why did he keep giving you the fault? Questions over questions linger in your head as you cried. You didn't want all this to end, but what if he notices he's actually better of without you? What if you just....destroyed a 3 year long relationship just because of your stupid personality?...

No. He deserved if. He definitely did for being an asshole. But do you really have to suffer, because of his mistakes?

You eventually cried yourself to sleep, in hope that it was just a bad dream...

Sometimes it's heart to accept the truth, because the truth sometimes hurts.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

@finnbbl @emilyywhyy @wolfs-howling @justastraymoa @loveyouamory @muraae @callmekda

[ssparksflyy]

i cannot remember if i already sent in a request, my apologies if i did. but could i get a percy x daughter of dionysus boyfriend headcanons

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

percy jackson dating hcs! ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of dionysus!reader warning(s): alcohol, teensy bit of underage drinking a/n: hellooo! dw pooks u didnt send it already <33 sorry this took me a sec to get out, school SUCKS

WE WERE IN THE BACKSEAT DRUNK ON SOMETHING STRONGER THAN THE DRINKS IN THE BAR

im not kidding though. percy's literally so in love with you that he feels drunk

he gets super smiley and giggly when he talks about you

im talking actually twirling his hair and kicking his feet goodnight

and the poor new camper he's supposed to be showing around literally just wants to learn where the restroom is

he seizes up any opportunity to talk about you methinks

someone could be like

" look at that (f/c) flower! its so pretty!!"

and percy, who's like 12 feet away would run up like

"DID YOU KNOW (F/C) IS (NAMES)'S FAVORITE COLO-"

at this point half the camp knows your entire life story

honestly. pollux loves percy.

he sees how happy he makes you and how well he treats you and is just like 'awwww'

DEFINITELY TEASES YOU THOUGHHH

he also definitely doesn't see percy sneak into your cabin. no siree he doesnt. hes sleeping. goodnight.

( castor also loved him. ILY KING. 😭 )

mr d on the other hand...

literally surprised he hasn't turned him into a dolphin yet

one day he will

but like say you guys are just happily walking around camp, holding hands, being cute , the usual.

when like suddenly you turn to the big house and see your PISSED dad DEATHSTARING you guys. oh hell no.

AND PERCY DOES NOT HELPPPP.

he'll literally look mr d straight in the eye. then turn to you and give you a long kiss. right in front of him.

chiron has had to hold him back countless times

like there was one time when you walked out of cabin 12 together and mr.d saw

he was FUMING

he's seen you walk out of cabin 3 before, BUT CABIN 12?? HIS CABIN????

percy's ass was grass.

literally.

you two were sitting together on the grass, just chatting, and percy could not get uppp

there were vines literally tying him to the ground

you were laughing so hard and he was PANICKING. RIPTIDE WOULD NOT CUT THEMMM.

eventually when you stopped laughing you were able to get the vines to retreat, but percy is still scared to sit in the grass, so all picnic dates have been moved to the lake ♡

whenever youre practicing making wine and like have to taste test it, percy always takes a sip with you

cause obviously you gotta taste it and make sure your actually improving, so you both take a little sip together

it's his own way of saying that he trusts you and your talents

he absolutely adores picking strawberries with you

sometimes you'll help out the demeter kids and bring percy along

and hes just like speed running it i swear

you dont even know why. like he's just laser-focused

apparently, he doesn't know either, it just happens 🤷‍♀️

at the end of the day, when youre done picking strawberries, you'll sneak a few in your pocket and share them with percy ♡

he doesn't care if he's developing back problems from being hunched over in the fields all day, your strawberry kisses are worth it ♡

[kyri45]

So there is a young and immensely powerful Monkey running around with the power of not just one but two celestial monkeys that have both been "enemies of the celestial realm“ and the celestials are okay with this ? I mean, don’t they still have trauma from what Monkey King did to them ? And they probably fear the Six-eared Macaque as well. He can be a scarily smart tactician and has shadow powers. Also he came back from the dead and whatnot.

So I ask again, are the celestial OKAY with MKs existence ?

Oh not really. Like yes but no. And dw this will eventually be covered in the comic. It's actually the final part of it. So you'll see what it s going on with that.

[firefly--bright]

knowing. (1)

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u.

summary ; to love someone is to know someone, fully, wholly, and jean fulfills this, wholly, knowingly.

warnings ; (not in this part but) eventual smut (this part is sfw!!), descriptions of religion as a concept

a/n ; uhhh smut in the next part (which is already written. hidden for now.) and it was my first time writing that and . well. you'll be the judge of if it's good or not but if it's BAD dw I'm never writing smut again. I'm gonna delete my account after that actually. thanks.

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @ppushable , @raazberry , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana .

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

centre tile art cred to @bpepper_cn on instagram :)

✿

jeans mother always told him that love will come with time and patience. when he complained to her about loving too much, she assured him that one day, he'd be loved the same. he has to have the courage and time to keep doing it. he rolled his eyes then. but now he's getting ready for a new years eve party, an invite extended to him through eren by Connie. he raked his hand through his hair, looking at his closet, deciding on what to wear, with you on FaceTime, propped up on his dresser.

so why was it that he'd remember his mother's words now, out of all times? why was it that his mother's assurances rung out in his ears after he laughed at a comment you made about his closet?

or maybe he knows why. he just hates to address it. instead, he focuses on your voice like he always has.

"maybe if you had less clothes, this would be an easier decision." you say, your voice muffled by something you're eating. jean rolls his eyes and you can barely see it. from where you're set up, you can only see his waist, the view ending just above mid-thigh length from the bottom and cutting off at his neck on the top. you can see the tips of his hair and parts of his growing scruff and grey sweatpants. he knows this, but he rolls his eyes anyway and he knows that you know he's making that face.

"you're a hypocrite." he says, lightly scratching his cheek. he reminds himself to shave before leaving.

in all honesty, jean doesn't do this. he's always been the type of person to have his outfit picked out the night before, ever since he was a kid – the need to be too prepared just so he has a plan of action; options he could employ. but he was rethinking everything today, after seeing what you were planning to wear and how he wanted to match with you without making it too obvious.

Why? He doesn’t know. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s too much of a coward to admit it.

he remembers the first time he did that accidentally. he matched what he was wearing with you and you greeted him with a giddy smile and your finger pointin0g to him and then yourself and he knew what you were saying without you even having said it.

he remembers how your smile made him reluctantly smile as well, even if he spilled ink on the maroon crewneck, and you made fun of him for it. he rolled his eyes but didn't have the heart to throw the cloth out. it was still there, in his line of sight, and he smiled to himself after catching a glimpse of it. he hears you hum in thought.

"what about that vest you have? the dark green one?" you ask. his eyes light up and he hums right back, appreciatively.

rummaging through his closet, he pulls out the knitted vest, holding it up to his chest. he nods to himself.

this could work. your outfit was the same shade, and if he layered it right-

"see! it looks perfect. you're overthinking too much, you'd look great." you say. he's glad you can't see his face and how flushed it was, the tips of his ears and nose warming with comfort and madness.

he clears his throat, muttering a small, "thanks" to you. you smiled brightly. he refused to look at the screen, not admitting what your actions did to him.

half an hour later, the call finally ended. he cut it unwillingly when you complained about there not being enough time to get ready. he agreed but didn't do anything about it for another ten minutes, letting you go off on a tangent that led to another tangent. he listened while laying on his bed, playing with the hair that lay on his forehead unconsciously. you talked with a smile on his face and he swore the brightness on his screen increased, he swore that you had swallowed sunlight when you were young, making everything you said meaningful. or maybe he was the only one who found meaning in them, soaking into your words like a plant waiting to grow.

or maybe he was the moon, shining off of your light. maybe he was meant to love you like this; with his love known but afar, seen but untouched.

that was the only way to explain it. the only way he could put his words into any fruition, the only way he could make it his, because this feeling wasn't his. he was used to loving people without them ever realising it. he was used to his love being messy and thrown around without any care, he was used to his love being everyone but his. but for the first time it was here, with him, in his hands that were reaching out to yours.

always reaching out to yours. it was the closest he’d felt to the reaching the stars. the world around him fell apart and it was just him and his love and you, afloat with hands reaching out to the others. always. Or maybe it was the fact that this was the only way he could describe it in a way that made sense. Maybe it was the fact that all other ways would be too plain, too simple. Maybe relating what he felt for you to something as important and all-consuming and divine as the stars he sought out in the city was the only way he could feel it be as important as it felt.

he got in the car with Marco at the back, waiting outside your dorm to pick you and sasha up, after which it would be Connie's turn. everyone had their designated seats - Marco in the middle of sasha and Connie because their presence together was something jean’s extensively loved car was not equipped to handle. and then you, sitting next to jean in the passenger seat with jean driving, and Connie complains about how you're allowed to choose the music but he isn't, and sasha complains how youre allowed to eat in Jean's car but she isn't. marco doesn't complain, but he does comment about the extra privileges given to you just because you "sit shotgun" with a nudge to Jean's ribs. jean rolls his eyes and says it nothing, tells Marco to shut up. Maybe he doesn’t want to address it.

he doesn't. even now, as you take your rightful seat next to jean, flashing him a smile, Marco notes how he'll annoy jean about his eyes wandering to you, how his mouth opens and closes, no doubt thinking of some compliment to give about how you look tonight. but jean ends up saying nothing, as always, and Marco notes it down to tease him for it later. it's a cycle; perpetual and routine but the routine provided comfort. it was predictable and it was comfortable because they were people he cared about. there was you, who was picking out 'the perfect song' (that only Marco would end up actually listening to) with a cheeky smile in the passenger seat. there was jean, driving, responding to Connie's jabs at how he's never let Connie play the music before and then there was sasha, who was rambling to you (Marco didn't know how you could possibly even pay attention to her and respond to her with Connie and Jean's back and forth, but you did it anyway) about that blonde guy she met at the diner the other day, and you gave her notes on how she should respond to his texts when she showed her screen to you with a panicked expression. marco smiled widely, crossing one foot under the other, getting comfortable in his seat. he was glad he met you clowns. jean glanced at him through the rearview with a knowing look. jean knew him long enough to know what he was thinking about with a small smile on his face.

"well then you shouldn't have lived so far away." jean mutters, his argument with connie pulling his focus back to the moment.

"what does that have anything to do with this?" Connie asks, grabbing the back of jean's seat.

"hey! careful with that, that costed more money than-"

"I'll lick the goddamn thing if you don't tell me what it meant." Connie said, removing his hand from the seat and folding them on his chest.

“yeah? Do it, you shameless cu-“

"and then, he said... wait let me scroll up. he's so cute," sasha says, looking at her phone in her hands, scrolling through her messages with niccolo. marco stole a glance at her phone. "oh! there it is!" she says, showing the phone to marco before passing it on to you.

"you should go for it sash. shoot your shot," Marco said, looking at sasha's flushed face under the dim passing of the streetlights outside. she looked good today, sparkly eyeshadow highlighting the browns of her eyes, a baby blue dress and pearl accessories to go with it. you took a while reading the texts, scrolling down to the current chat where sasha had typed out, 'see you there!!! I'm wearing blue! :)'

"oh my god, sash, this is adorable. i agree with mar, you should go for it." you say, and sasha takes comfort in the nicknames you used for her and marco. Predictable of you to use, really. It was only a shorter version of their names, nothing creative, but it felt comfortable when you said it. It felt more like it was yours, that they were yours to make short and say without hesitation.

"really? i mean, I am sorta old fashioned in a way. i want him to ask me first," sasha says, sighing and leaning on Marco's shoulder. "but I do also want to speed up the process." she says. you hum. marco puts his head on top of Sasha's and she thinks, amongst many other things, how glad she is about the fact that you're here. that she met you and marco and jean this year and about how she had always dreamed of friends that felt like family like in the T.V. shows she used to watch, sitcoms with their own openings and closings, inside jokes that kept repeating until it became a comfortable thrum of predictable but bright laughter.

"i think you should go for it first. he seems like the guy who'd bring you flowers and stuff. besides, I think he really really likes you. I mean, the way he looks at you, sash-" you start, putting a hand over your chest. jean glances at you not so discreetly while waiting at a stoplight.

your face is lit up under the usual red stop light; an everyday feature, something jean has come across uncountable times, but jean looks at you like you've been casted in the sun and sasha blinks. if that's the way nicolo looks at her then she may have a chance.

"alright. I'll go for it." she says with resolve, clapping her hands together. you smile back at her, looking at marco, neck straining with effort, stretching to look over your shoulder so your eyes could meet his. "do you like this song?" you ask. marco smiles and nods - a cycle. Predictable. Comfort.

the five of you reach yeager's house in about ten minutes of the same cycle, the same perpetuality. jean opens the door for you, and marco stretches as he gets out, wringing his hands after being cramped. sasha adjusted her dress. Connie exits last, closing the door loudly.

"don't close the door that hard, dumbass." jean says, waving a hand through his hair, crouching down to look at the side mirror to get his hair just how he liked it. sasha asks you if her lipstick is okay and you tell her she looks perfect and has nothing to worry about, holding her cheeks in your hands. she smiles into them, giving you a hug that leads jean to stabilize you, abandoning his view in the mirror in favour of placing his hand near your shoulders gently.

his hands don't leave that place until youre inside the house and you have to pretend it doesn't affect you. it shouldn't. it really shouldnt send a large shiver down your spine, the touch making your bones relax and melt and be remade again. you wish he did that more often - let his hand sink into your skin. You wish he made it a routine, a second nature. Muscle memory. Your tendons would shape around his, and the comfort of the routine wouldn’t make it any less important. let his body meld against your own until it was one entity, floating and untethered but still grounded on earth with the same clay you were made from, same strings you were attached to.

"you guys! over here!" Reiner's voice booms out as he waves his hands over his head so the four of you could see.

you were soon joined by historia, ymir, bertolt, reiner and annie. you didn't do well at parties; a fact jean knew far too well, but you talked to the group you knew well, laughing and smiling, trying. everyone's finals had ended, and Reiner boasted about how well bertolt did - even if they hadn't released the results, he knew that Bert did well, patting a hand on his back as Bert smiled shyly. historia and Ymir were talking to sasha and Connie, marco struck up a conversation with Bert, and you and jean were talking to Reiner but jean wasn't really paying attention to it because he was too busy looking at you. A routine.

it was unusual, he thought, how quickly you had grown into his company and vice versa. but you did, somehow. you claimed everything to be yours without you even touching it. it was unusual how quickly he grew comfortable into this non-existent touch, more importantly how he knew it was there, how he quickly made it his rightful home because it would be too formal to call it sacred. sacred would mean he'd have to abandon and pay for his sins. sacred would mean he'd have to join his hands and beg for forgiveness. sacred would mean rules and regulations - a book he'd have to keep reading until he understood it, until the verses poured from the tip of his tongue as a reminder of his guilt. Loving you was divinity as a whole because it was the only word that could describe how it felt, how you felt, but you were far from it. Your divinity was your humanity, jean thought, because that was the only sin he could commit to memory.

but no, you weren't a place of worship that upheld it's sanctity. you were holy the way his home was - the way he didn't have to beg or pray or pay for his crimes, but the way where he could remove his jacket and hang it up next to yours. you were holy in the way where he didn't have to read you because of shame or guilt but because he wanted to, because there wasnt compulsion in your love. you were holy in the way he found god under his blankets when he was a child; shining a torch light on his sketchbook and drawing a nameless face while thunder roared outside.

his heart settles back into his chest, not realising it hadn’t been his for a long time. you were holy. not because you were pristine and untouched and well-kept, but because you needed to be touched, because you needed to be held and kept in the palm of his hand.

he'd do it. he'd hold you. he'd love you as a sacred home that was meant to be lived in even as you do as you were doing now, your hand holding a cup and fingers tapping the rim of it to the beat of the song, nodding along to reiner's story, he'd do it. he was doing it - all the loving and praying. not praying for you, but praying to you without the guilt and shame and begging.

you were not a god but jean would see you in every one. jean would find you everywhere. he would look at the sun and think of your smile and he'd feel the breeze in his hair and think of your hands. you were not god because you weren't and couldn't be as cruel as him but jean loves you like you are one - like you're the one that gave art it's meaning, like you're the one that followed him everywhere he went, that you're the one that could ever have the courage to look him in his eyes and forgive him even if he didn't ask for it, even if he didn't think he deserved it.

you weren't god but he says your name like worship. He looks at you like home.

"i think there needs to be better music," Reiner says, and you nod readily. Connie joins in the conversation, "I think they need to pass it to me." jean rolls his eyes, and you laugh, agreeing with Connie, egging him on.

more people arrived as the night went on, some of whom you knew the names of. it was a mix of people - a bunch of zeke's friends and a mix of eren's. friends in a loose sense – classmates and acquaintances of the classmates and their coworkers, making the large house seem smaller than it had when it was just you guys on the weekends playing with an abandoned ouji board (jean and eren tried to shit talk each other but ended being the most scared out of all of you. jean’s shriek still echoed through the basement when connie tapped on his shoulder in the dark). you were glad you at least knew the way through it as you lead sasha by the hand to the kitchen, deciding to give her a pep talk there.

the plan you and Connie made was simple - you'd lead sasha to the kitchen under the guise of giving her some encouragements, and Connie would lead niccolo to the kitchen as well, claiming that they could really use him there, even though the area was mostly empty. it wasn't an actual 'plan' – nothing you and connie concocted ever was - more of just a way to speed things along. Connie had brought it up the night before and you had readily agreed before putting a pack of gum in the shopping cart he was wheeling.

(grocery shopping with Connie had become a routine for the two of you. it started first as a way of getting Connie's life together but then spiralled into buying dumb snacks that you knew sasha would eat anyway. The last one she had tried was butter chicken jerk beef, something you had to spit out immediately but something sasha gobbled up in flat 6 minutes).

the kitchen was, thankfully, away from most of the crowd. the music still penetrated through the walls and the vibrations were still present on the floor, but there wasn't anyone in here, preferring the loudness of a stereotypical party to the quiet of a corner, finding their spots either outside or on the lawn or in the basement to dance. you held Sasha's hand as you turned to her, rubbing circles into the back of her hand.

“youre beautiful.” You tell her. She nods, understanding that it’s a command and not a compliment, a beckon for her to believe the truth as it is. “and I know he’s important to you, and I know you’re afraid of loosing him, but that’s why you should go for it.” You say, fixing the top of her hair that had gotten a little frizzy because of the heat in the house. “he’d be the dumbest person alive if he rejects you. I’d egg his car, but that’d be a waste of eggs.” That gets a small laugh from her. You’re glad that the noise from the outside isn’t loud enough to be important because you can hear her laugh. That becomes more important than any music with any amount of meaning.

"thank you. im just...really scared. i just haven't, I dunno, put myself 'out there' for a long time. especially since he's a good friend too. i mean you get it, right? with you and je-"

"i know what you're saying." you interrupt gently before she has a chance to complete her sentence, "I wish there was an easier way out, too. But, I mean, again, its scary because its important. And it’ll be even more important once you go through it." You say, unsure of what exactly your mouth is spewing out.

you're not good at this. you wonder what drove Connie to tell you, of all people, to give sasha advice on a topic that you also had barely enough experience with.

"just...rip the band-aid off. then you won't have to worry about it anymore. you won't have to have this wall with him, and if everything goes well - which I know it will - this can turn into something beautiful. just these couple minutes. and then it'll be done and over with." you say, hoping it does the job as well as you think it should. Verbal words were never your forte – you only hoped your actions could provide enough proof of your love than your flimsy words could, have more of a grip and tangibility than your voice.

she smiles and squeezes your hands in hers, and you smile in relief. "you're right. ripping the band-aid off. mhm." she says, nodding once in approval, before bringing you into her warm embrace. you happily obliged and hummed - sasha's hugs had a way of making your unsaid love feel heard. (you found that out after a long day of working at the café where an older customer had screamed at you until his head turned red, all for accidentally getting his order wrong. the start of your day was just as crappy as his yelling, everything had gone wrong since the moment you woke up. but when sasha took one look at your tired expression and mumbled hellos, she wasted no time in wrapping you up in her hug and you were sure it cured you, healing all the wounds that had been there prior to that day. if you could bottle up her hugs you were sure that it'd sell as an antidote for any poison, the gentle and consistent strength of her arms around you could hold the sky up better than Atlas could, holding your world up on her pinkie finger without breaking so much as a sweat).

"thank you," she muttered softly, pulling away. you didn't have a chance to reply before connie and niccolo entered the room, and connie sent you a not-so-discreet wink with two thumbs up, sealing the business deal.

you smiled back at sasha, squeezing her hand twice before walking up to Connie. "we'll leave the two of you alone!"

"use protec-" Connie's voice was cut off by your hand on his mouth, muffling it and pulling him out the kitchen. “don’t ruin it, man.” You tell him under your breath with a hopeful gleam on your face.

removing your hand just as you stepped out, connie turned to you with just as much of a bright smile on his face, holding his hand up for a high five.

you replied with a smile of you own, slapping your hand against his, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

"we did it!" he exclaims. you laugh, nodding, the slight amount of alcohol you had buzzing in your head; just how you liked it. Everything felt joyful – the faces and smiles unblurred, important, but words slurred. he continues, "you know what I just realised?" he asks, and he has to shout over the music to be heard, even if it wasn’t too much of a strain for him. Connie thrived in parties, being used to the shouting and the continuous laughter and bad decisions that led to even worse hangovers. you don't say anything, tilting your head and furrowing your brows instead., allowing him to continue. "this was our last mess-around of the year!" he shouts, leaning closer to your ear. You can smell the boozed punch on his clothes.

“oh my god, it is!” you say, “my favourite one was when we made the lights go out for the entire building.” You say, your voice reaching his ears only barely over the music. He nods with a big smile. Connie Springer in his natural element – going over shitty ideas with a drink in his hand, not his first and definitely not his last either. “holy shit, dude, I forgot about that!”

“im pretty sure what we did was illegal-“

“we’ve done more illegal shit-“ “shoplifting a pack of condoms isn’t the same as plugging the wrong wire into the wrong hole-“ “I CAN FIND THE HOLE.” He cuts you off, making you burst out laughing. Its routine – he says something particularly stupid, you say something worse, and he would say something to top it off. (the last time the pattern occurred was this morning – he spilled his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter as well as his pants, you had joked about how he kept “getting wet” to which he says “I always am.” Jean scoffed from across the room)

“no you cant, connie.” The familiar voice yells out to the two of you from the end of the wide, poorly-lit hallway. Jean walked towards you with what seemed to be his first drink of the night, and the dim overhead light made his hair shine like a halo on his temples. He tips his glass towards you with a nod and raised eyebrows, worldlessly asking if you’d like one. You shook your head. Connie continued, rolling his eyes. “not what your mom said last night.”

“my mother doesn’t even know you exist.” “that’s not what it looked like last nig-“

“im going to go out. To dance.” You say, avoiding another bad excuse of a brawl. If it was anything like the countless times you’d witnessed before, jean and connie would end up failing their arms at eachother; nothing short of just a catfight.

Jean turns towards you, his feet pointing to yours, “dance?” he asks, his voice only heard because you were standing so close to him. You nod once, knowing that you probably weren’t going to step outside so soon, knowing you preferred more quiet rather than the loud, crammed bodies in the basement or front of the house. Jean nods once too, knowing what you’d want, knowing what this is, knowing what your voice meant even if he can’t hear you well.

Connie shrugs, “im gonna go to the basement. Find the love of my life tonight.” He says, turning around with a smirk as you shout to him, “use protection!” mimicking his cut-off statement from before.

Jean shakes his head with a smile that only you got to see. the house was big enough to have two kitchens – a smaller one that was occupied by sasha and niccolo, and a bigger, more known one that was occupied by barely recognizable faces and loud voices. This hallway, although used many times by you and your friends, seemed more sacred now that jean was infront of you, latching onto every blink of his eyes, every sip of his drink, every tone of his voice. You liked having the intel – the power, really – of knowing him so wholly. Knowing that he knew what you meant, knowing what you did and didn’t mean to say and knowing exactly what he was feeling even under the dim, warm light of this hallway. It didn’t deserve to be called just a hallway. It felt more like a temple, more like the road that led to something twice more beautiful, more like the process you were told to trust.

“so,” he says, and you note how unaffected his voice is by the scarce alcohol he had. Reaching out, you take his previous invitation now that its just him, holding his cup and stealing a small sip. Jean tries not to think about why an even an indirect indication of a kiss can make his heart flip out into the open world and he wonders even more if you can see it, his heart, bare open on the carpeted floor of the hallway, ready to be treated however you’d choose to treat it. He wonders if you know its waiting for you, and he wonders even more about if this is what is never told to people about love. About how its known that you know him, that his heart – more soft than he’d like it to be – was for you to hold but more that he trusted you to keep it well. He knew you more than enough to know exactly how you’d treat his pulse. Maybe that was what the movies and t.v shows failed to tell him, that maybe loving someone meant knowing that they wouldn’t willingly hurt you. or maybe it was just him. Maybe it was just you.

“so,” you say, handing his glass back to him. “roof?” you ask, tilting your head towards the end of the hallway, leading him to an escape from this sanctuary, but really, everything would be a sanctuary with you. so he agreed, taking his cup and then your hand, leading you up the stairs, your hand clamped into his, feeling the folds of his palm under your own. You wondered if he knew that the wrinkles on your hand described everything you knew about your unheard future, and you wondered if he knew you were trusting him with it. You wondered if he knew it was only his to hold.

Maybe he did. His thumb circles the back of your hand, drawing conclusions to questions he was too afraid to ask out loud, knowing that the answers only lay with you. the rooftop was also a routine – visited countless times by the whole group after the basement got too stuffy to handle. The lawn would be too predictable, eren would say, and led everyone to the extra guest room on the last floor of the house (it was a mansion, really, you remembered thinking, because what kind of a house had a spacious basement and three whole floors? You remembered also knowing why eren preferred to spend nights at mikasa's much smaller, shared apartment than this solitary building with nothing but empty halls and stairways, quiet bedrooms that were almost never occupied). The roof wasn’t built to have people on it, presenting to be slanted and kind of a risky ordeal to climb up to it through the window of the bedroom, but it was worth it because the air would no longer be filled with the now comfortable smoke but would remind you of how wide everything felt, about how the watchful but drowsy eyes of your friends provided and endless amount of comfort against the cold nights.

jean opened the window of the bedroom, exposing you to the forgotten thought of how cold the air was, how still but lively everything felt. The music was still heard, but there were barely any people in the lawn below you since the back of the house always went untouched, the grass growing wildly – a stark contrast to how the front yard looked. The window was large enough for jean to fit through, and you held his cup as he climbed out of it.

His shirt rode up a bit as he climbed out, his arms flexing with the effort to pull himself onto the roof. This part was a routine. A dance, well-choreographed and practiced to the point of it being muscle memory, his hand reached down just as you sat on the ledge of the window, handing him his cup and then your own hand. Jean pulled you up with ease, holding your shoulders as you adjusted yourself on the slanted platform, breathing comfortably right beside him because that’s the only way you could breathe when he was around.

You sat with your legs on top of the other, and jean prefers to lay down right beside you just as he had countless times before, admiring how the side of your face looked because he knew he was too much of a coward to look at you fully without feeling everything he had tried not to feel before. Your weight rested on your hands behind you, and you looked at the sky, as the clouds rolled in to cover the moon momentarily before moving, seeing something new. Jean looked at your face, gauging the light on your face to know if the moon was visible or not, admiring how your eyes shone against the soft glow more than he’d ever appreciate the moon.

“what a year.” You said, the statement enveloping jean as your voice carried out to him softly, wholly. This was how he knew you. how he wanted to know you, how you were, your presence wasn’t a symbol of what could be or what was, not a reminder of what he could be, but more of the present tense. Love had always been something jean viewed as something he should be better for, something he should improve for, unknowing of how this was the feeling he should’ve been looking for all alone. Or maybe the fact that he wasn’t even looking for it made it even more beautiful – the fact that love was how you found him in the present. How you sat beside him, patiently, knowingly, always there. Its been a whole year of you being friends, of jean finding more things to appreciate, to love a little freely. His hand rested on his chest, and you rested just as he did. Rested, because that was what he made you do, no longer running around for some better version of yourself that you wouldn’t find. No, you were here, present, whole, with your muscles as relaxed as they could be without the influence of anything but him.

He hummed. You didn’t dare look at his face, knowing you were too much of a coward to look at everything you wanted to tell him, the silence stretching beyond the space you two shared. You wondered if he knew what you wanted to say, but you decided to take the risk. Break the comfortability, take a step against the routine.

With your heart beating at a slower rate than you thought it should in your chest, you spelled it out for him. “I didn’t… think I’d be here. With people I care about and who I know care about me.” You said. Jean breathes in and out, his hand covering his heart that was already safe with your own, listening, knowing.

“thank you.” you say. “youre important to me. Thank you for seeing me as important to you, too.”

The same silence stretches before you again, but unlike other times, you don’t have to wonder if you said the wrong thing, because it was an important thing to be said. Sacred, to you, more like the scriptures that told you how live, what was right and how to not do wrong.

Loving him was right. Knowing him was right.

He sits up. His shoulders brush yours as he does and then he says your name like you belong there. You swear you do, because you’ve never really fully been present but he says your name like you do, like you are. He says your name as if you’ve always been his to say, always been his to become. “youre so much more than that.” He says, “youre so much more than just important to me.”

You could stay here forever, you think. His voice is everywhere, colouring every atom with himself, and you can finally find the courage to look at him. His face shines, his cheekbones highlighted by the moon and you swear its made for him. The too-important, all-knowing satellite shines just for him, his eyes shine, watery and beautiful. The browns look a little greyer under the night, safe and tucked away for something less important, a small speck of white in his pupils, reflecting the light form above, preferring you over the wholeness of the moon. Theres no breeze and you barely notice the winter cold because of him, the warmth in his gaze holding you, wrapping itself around you long enough to make it known. It already was known.

He continues. In his head, he’s counting everything that makes you beautiful but loses count, loses track with you infront of him, giving him everything that was already his. “youre…. Youre you. I mean, everywhere I go, everything I do, I think about you because I know what you’d think. I know what you’d say, and everything becomes so much more meaningful. I don’t know how I can even simplify it or, I mean, I don’t know how to say it,” he does have to, you think, but he says it anyway. “I just… this feels more than anything ive been feeling. You feel right. I love – I love you. everything feels much more than what it is ever since ive met you, since ive known you. I… I don’t even know if love begins to cover it, honestly, but you know-“

“I do.” You say in a breath that youre so afraid to take because that would mean that everything he was saying was real. but he makes you braver than you thought you’d be, and so you inhale. Exhale. Youre you. he’s always seen you as such, and not as a perfect version of you that you’d always wanted to become.

“I know.” You say, “you’re in everything I’ve done. Everything I continue to do. Jean, i…I’ve always wanted to be, like, better than what I was. Better than I could ever be, but for the first time I think, because of you, I don’t need to be. Everything I have is yours. Everything I want is yours. i mean, its not…complicated, really, its simple and I love you. so much.” You complete, your words soft and quiet and that’s how jean knows they’re yours.

the string tying him together snaps in half, an inevitable conclusion to the long drawn-out, impossibly divine moment and he finds his hand meeting yours again, resting on top of yours, and he knows youre not god because he feels the reciprocal of his unending service because your hands turn upwards to his, interlocking your fingers, engulfing them in his. It feels predictable, comfort, routine even if you hadn’t done it before, even if you’d have the chance to do it countless times again.

And he knows youre not god because he’s never been close to the concept of one like this before, face to face, noses touching, the only thing he can think about is how your lips look, how his hand his travelling up to your cheek, tucking hair behind your ear so it doesn’t bother you. he knows youre not god because loving you is the closest hes ever been to himself, to everything that ties him to his existence. All meaning, all importance, all routine and all comfortability lies with you, he thinks, your breaths mingling together, both an answer and a question, and jean closes any gaps that had been left in the distance between you two, placing his lips on yours, slowly, wholly.

Everything happens. Universes are created, ended, made again, you shift closer to him if that was even possible, letting yourself melt into him because his hands are the only ones capable enough to build you all over again, your hands tangling themselves in their hair like its second nature, muscle memory, routine, comfortability. Your heart beats contently in your chest for the first time in a while, and the moon witnesses it all, shining softly. Your hand traces down to the left side of his chest where his own heart beats for you, and he pulls away for only a second to breathe before his lips are on yours again, half of his being in him and the other half in yours, your legs laying on top on his. Your hands caresses his heart, gripping his green vest, wishing to take it off so you could hear it louder than your own pulse. But youre sure you can hear it, because it sounds the same as yours, because its been with you this whole time. His hair tickles your forehead and you smile because it feels right.

You feel like yourself and jean had never felt the outcome of his love so tenfold before.

✿

part 2 >

[ceilidho]

Everyone's wondering whether Sheriff!John knows you're not his mail order bride but have we considered: mail order bride scammer runs out/losers all her money and messages John again like heyyy sweetie, you won't believe what happened. I need another ticket and traveling cash!

But he's looking at you over the letter

oh dw, she will be coming back eventually. you'll see in what form, but i can't dangle there being another woman out there that thinks john price was willing to marry her and just let that fall flat.

[envy-of-the-apple]

OKAY SO. u know. yandere-sin's monstober challenge right?? i knew i wanted to write gojo so i skimmed their list, saw "eldritch", remembered some of our conversations (or just your posts maybe) and. my brain was beamed forbidden awful celestial cosmic horror gojo knowledge form the heavens.

can you think of how profoundly unsexy regular human sex would be to anything that didn't have that kind of biological impulse?

gojo does not have a physical corporeal form so he doesn't really get the whole. insert tab a into slot b. that's utterly inane to him. you could describe sex to him and he's no more interested in it than he would be in ikea assembly instructions.

what he does find sexy is you. YOU. not your corporal form, but the "you" that lives inside it. "you" are what he wants to go inside of, lovemaking after his own fashion, revealing to you his true form on a plane of existence you can't perceive, becoming a part of you in some way

tldr; gojo wants to fuck your brain and cum inside it. he literally wants to fuck your grey matter, but like, cosmically. dw you'll be okay (tm)!

and gojo's true form is like. i once heard a joke about an engineer at a mathematics convention. the engineer was desperately confused at this math problem that started talking about 10-dimensional space.

he's like "how could you possibly visualize 10-dimensional space??"

and a mathematician next to him goes "just imagine n-dimensional space, and let n=10!"

and gojo fucking your brain (erotic) (sexual) (not clickbait) is basically that, him forcing your brain to perceive things your visual cortex literally doesn't know how to model. you SEE space in 10 dimensions now, an extra 7, but your brain doesn't know what you're seeing.

but dw gojo is there to guide you <3 that's what the mindfuck lovemaking is all about! he is fusing with you! moving parts aside to make new room, blazing new pathways, routing in a few extra optic nerves for more eyes to help you out. isn't he so nice??

there's more but this is already intensely long skhfglshdgsdg god why am i inspired for this i need to write my kinktober day 4 AAAAAAAAAA

*sighs and opens a03 to read CGT for the 24438th time*

(tw: death, death, even more death, unsafe sex , dark content, dead dove do not eat, just don’t read this)

ah so the Qu but like way worse

you know that saying “I wanna be in your heart” eldritch horror Gojo would take that literally as he rips open your chest cavity and tries to insert himself inside of you cuz you’re so perfect and amazing and he just needs to find out why he likes you so much!!! eventually he realizes that he finds nothing just a bunch of blood and this thing that would pump the blood around your (now) lifeless body so he just gives up and resurrects you (cuz what is death in front of a being who’ll never experience an end)

I think he would definitely try to change you to be in his image but then he’ll realize that he likes your humanity the most. Two arms two legs two eyes so useless and terrible design but he finds it so pathetically cuuuuuute. When your brain turns to mush from your activities he just restarts you again until eventually you just adapt to the horror fuck.

but like alternatively….would eldritch gojo even have a feeling of fucking?? I don’t think cosmic horror beings need to reproduce right? I think it’s more horrific if he thinks he’s doing YOU a favor by mindfucking you into oblivion cuz you’re human and below him and ya ofc u need this. not understanding that humans don’t rlly claw out eachothers brains to get down.

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

OMG hi I love your writing sooo much. I kinda have 2 requests if you don't mind, there both for Charlie. One would be like the ABC thing (idk what there called 😭) the other maybe like reader is pregnant. I feel like Charlie would go ballistic and like crazy protective.

Awe thank you so much, and dw, I can do both! I did the pregnancy one for this post since it took less time, but once I get around to writing the abc one, I'll definitely tag you in it so you can see when it's out! I hope you enjoy!

Charlie Craven when reader is pregnant

Afab reader because you know, pregnancy, but no pronouns are used so technically gn! reader.

Warnings: Technically yandere character but he doesn't really do anything yandere-esc here besides be overprotective, pregnancy, the vague idea of abortion is mentioned, somewhat abusive parent mention (not reader or Charlie dw), mentions of vomiting.

Also-the idea of a Charlie having sex with a kidnapped darling makes me feel gross, so for the sake of my sanity, reader is with willingly with Charlie, he's just kind of yandere for different reasons.

Divider credit goes to @kyejiz

-Charlie wasn't planning on having kids, he really wasn't. His childhood was fucked up enough, courtesy of his father being the previous leader of his mafia, and he really had no desire to put a different child through that, no matter how aware he is of his shortcomings. So he always tries to be careful when getting intimate with you, just to be on the safe side.

-But no precaution is 100% affective, and eventually, you end up beating the odds and becoming pregnant.

-When you tell Charlie, he's...stunned, to say the least. How could this have happened? You two were so careful, how did you still end up pregnant? Holy shit, what were you gonna do? Did you want to keep it? How could he possibly be a father? Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit-

-He tries to appear calm and collected, keeping a brave, stoic face on, but from the way he's clasping his hands, and the way his leg's bouncing up and down rapidly, you can tell he's freaking out. You can't blame him, especially with his job, but his nervousness is starting to make you nervous. What if he's upset? What if he wants you to get rid of it? Will the kid ever have a normal childhood? What are you going to do?

-He's fully prepared to ask you what you want to do about it, but before he can, you whisper out that you want to keep it, and he feels a strange rush of relief flood his system. he's not sure why, keeping the kid will be much more difficult than simply getting rid of it, and besides, how could he possibly be a good father when he's never had a good example of one, or when his job is...well, what it is?

-Still, as soon as the initial shock is over, he's over the moon. He's gonna have a kid! He's gonna have a kid with you! He's gonna have a kid with you now! He can't believe it!

-His immediate reaction is to pick you up (gently) and twirl you around, smiling uncontrollably as your new life together flashes through his brain. He can worry about his job and all the little things later, for now, he just wants to celebrate this new milestone with you, and only you.

-Immediately begins preparations for the kid. he's buying everything you two could possibly need in bulk, regardless of how soon you'll need it. A crib, clothes, toys, diapers, blankets, anything that comes to mind, he'll buy. He'd rather be overprepared than underprepared, and besides, he's practically rolling in money, so spending too much isn't really a concern for him. Only the best for his child!

-On top of preparing, he becomes 10x more protective of you. It doesn't matter how early you are in your pregnancy, or how capable you normally are, he is not letting you do anything, no matter how low-effort the task is. He's following you around the house, helicoptering around you every second he can, picking things up for you, cleaning literally any sort of mess or disturbance you've made regardless of how capable you are, anything that could possibly be considered taxing on you is no longer something you're able to do. He doesn't mean to stress you out, that's the opposite of what he wants, he's just super nervous about your wellbeing throughout your pregnancy.

-Nobody's allowed to touch you besides him. Nobody. Not that they could before, but especially so now. On the rare occasion you're out of the house, he's always by your side, glaring at anyone who dares stare at you for too long.

-Speaking of his protectiveness, he's amping up the house's security as much as possible, if he hasn't done so already. He refuses to let anything bad happen to you in general, but he double refuses to let anything happen to you while you're pregnant, or to the kid once it's born. He's a powerful man, and with the job he has, he knows what attention he attracts and what his enemies are capable of. He can't let them hurt you or the kid, he can't even risk them knowing he has a kid. If he lost either of you...he wouldn't be able to cope.

-His fears are exactly why he doesn't let anyone besides your personal bodyguards know you're pregnant. Even them knowing stresses him out, but he still has a job to do, and leaving the house is inevitable, no matter how much he tries to put going out off. He just has to trust that the bodyguards will take care of you while he's gone, but he'll definitely be stressing when he has to leave you behind for a bit.

-He can't keep his hands off of you, even before the bump starts showing. He's constantly holding your stomach, cuddling up to you, picking you up and carrying you around, any form of physical touch he'll be doing regularly. If you're stressed and need him to back off he will, but he'll be very twitchy while parting for you.

-Lord help you when your bump does show, his hands are gonna find a new home on your stomach. He loves the feeling of your child kicking at your stomach, it calms him down whenever he has doubts about having a kid. It makes him feel like everything will turn out alright.

-He refuses to be like his father, he refuses. His dad wasn't necessarily unloving, but he was a mafia boss, and Charlie was meant to be an heir, so most of Charlie's childhood was stripped from him in preparation for his future career. Instead of being able to play with kids his own age, he trained to fight, to kill, to do business. He was taught to trust no one, to never show his emotions to a living soul, and to utilize his anger for furthering business. Pair all of that with his parent's constant fighting, and boom, ruined childhood.

-So needless to say, he's scared. He loves the kid already, and he's sure he always will, but what if love isn't enough to make him a good parent? What if he still ends up being hard on the kid, just like his dad was on him? He doesn't want to shove this life onto an innocent child, especially his child, but what if he does? How could he be a good father when violence is all he's ever known?

-You'll have to reassure him a lot during your pregnancy, even if he never explicitly tells you his fears. It's kind of obvious based on all the parenting books he's bought, or all the blogs he's scanned giving advice on how to be a loving dad. Sources he'd normally never turn to, but right now, he's desperate. He just needs you to remind him that it'll be ok, that the thought he's putting into all this is enough proof that he'll be a good father.

-He's the best comfort you have when pregnancy symptoms start to kick in. Pregnancy cravings? he's got everything you could possibly want stocked in your ridiculously large kitchen. Morning sickness? He's up with you, holding your hair back as you do what you have to. Sore? he's massaging whichever part of your body needs soothing. Tired/grumpy? He's doing whatever you need, no matter how stupid or ridiculous your requests may be. You're carrying his child after all, it's the least he could do.

-Pampers you to high heaven. Whatever you want, you'll get, no matter how expensive. It doesn't even have to be something you need for your pregnancy specifically, literally anything you want he's providing. Your happiness has always been key to him, and he's not about to let you feel unloved or neglected during your pregnancy.

-He won't ever tell you this, but it pains him to see how uncomfortable you are at moments. He's less ballistic about it than he would be if it was literally anything else causing you distress because he knows that this is natural and just how pregnancy works, but he's still very on edge, especially when you're showing visible signs of being uncomfortable. He abhors seeing you in pain, even when he knows he can't help you the way he feels he needs to. He doesn't want to make you feel bad about yourself though, so he'll keep his worries to himself, watching over you carefully as you go through your day to day life.

-Once moving around becomes more difficult for you, he'll do whatever he can to get you from place to place without letting you strain yourself. This usually ends with him carrying you around himself, but on the off chance he can't or you won't let him, he'll try to bring whatever you need closer to you, so you don't have to walk as far. It can seem a little overbearing, but he means well.

-He's constantly chattering about your kid, what they'll be like, how they'll turn out, what they'll be interested in, the big moments he can't wait for, all that good stuff. He'll love the kid no matter how they turn out (for the most part), but he still enjoys speculating with you.

-He's so excited to be a dad, and he's especially excited to be a parent alongside you!

-...Let's just hope he doesn't pass out when the baby comes, he's desensitized to a lot but childbirth isn't really something he's seen a lot of (or at all).

Hope you enjoyed!

[fuzzythoughtsblog]

Since you asked so nicely <3

Id love to take you to a random college party to which I oh so desperatly begged begged you you come but ofc you felt something was off because of how much I was prodding and begging you to come with me- and didn't feel like it. But you brushed it away and now you're getting dressed doing my makeup and I do yours.

Eventually I take you there and there's alot of ppl. Not a man in sight all girls dressed in pretty dresses and slutty outfits.

So far so good.

You even start to like the atmosphere giving up on wanting to go home. However I hand you a drink and then another, and another. It's booze ofc you drink it not thinking much of it. And as you feel the alcohol hit your nerves and make you woozy- I'd so graciously take you. You'll think I'm just taking you home but that's when you realize youre in the basement of the house. Still- dazed and buzzed you don't even feel it when i tie you face down on a table. Securing your wrists and ankles with zipties. An uncomfortable position you whine and squirm under as I coo to you to stay still even though you probably didn't hear that. As time passed and I'm done securing you up like a pretty little present on a table, ass up, knees wide apart as your chest touches the cold table you sober up. That's when you see and realize the zipties cutting at your skin, the silhouettes of people all around you. The girls from the party. You're the prize darling. Matter of fact you're the life of the party. The main course. The big present everyone's waiting for. As you start to panic I tell you "it's alryt, we'll all be gentle okay?" As I run the tip of my box cutter grazing your spine down to your cunt slightly nicking your inner thigh as you yawp in panic. I cut apart your pretty dress like the wrapping of my gift as I tell the rest of the pretty ladies to join in. That's when you'll start to feel the rest of the girls and females' arms grabbing at you, at your dress as you cry and sob and beg me to stop yanking at the restraints. They're all getting a chance at cutting away at your dress like a birthday cake and unwrapping their present with both sweet and soft hands as well as calloused hands that prod at your leaking cunt. Running their slick covered fingers up and down your folds.

"You're liking this aren't you pretty girl?"

You're soaking already so you can only imagine how everyone is riled up, excited and ready. How'd you feel when they're all teasing and grabbing you, using your holes, fitting they're girlcocks straps and fingers slaming them all at once because they're all too impatient raping and abusing all of you. While all you could do is cry and watch me, your good friend- or so you thought, laugh and use you as well. "Hope you don't mind bunni, i didn't know how to ask you. Everyone's have a good time anyways." I coo inbetween.

I even whisper a tiny thank you cuz all my friends are enjoying you while you're shaking tremoring. You'll eventually settle in after hours of it unable to count how many time you came or everyone else came in you. It’s going to be so embarrassing when you cum on your rapists cocks and straps for the first time. Sobbing and begging as you’re split apart like a cheap fucksleeve, unable to keep a moan from escaping while you’re pumped full like some cheap whore. Pain turning into pleasure as you try to deny how good you feel. How wrong it truly is but here you are. Broken and braindead. Just a pretty little thing. Just a hole.

But dw I'll get you new clothes and ice cream afterwards ♡

This is so hot I'm shaking. I've always fantasized about being shared, but how you laided this out for me is so hot. Sorry for not responding to this sooner. Honestly I was thinking about keeping this for myself.

[nortonluv]

hello sweetie! :D

i see that you want to write about descendants and i would absolutely love to share some requests i've been thinking about.

idk if you write ficlets, headcannons or oneshots, so you can write in the way you feel more comfortable! :)

so, the thing is, uma and harry (separately) x artist!reader (gn please!!) where the reader draw and write music and poetry about their lover/crush. i just want to see how they would react if they seen the readers art bcs i think it would be soooooo cute!

(im so sorry if you can't understand something, english isn't my first language.)

take care of yourself. love u!!

I love this so so much! thank you!

Hope this doesn't end up being too bad, I feel it was a little rushed (not because I felt I was being rushed just that I had a few thoughts that I needed to write before they were gone yk?)

I'm doing it so it's:

Harry Hook x painter/drawer!reader

And

Uma x music artist! Reader

To make it easier to imagine

Also I've kept it gender neutral dw and I've also written it so Uma and Harry are in Auradon when they meet you

Please feel free to request more at any point (I'm going to write for all descendants characters but mostly Harry Hook)

----------------------

Harry Hook

Let's imagine Harry has no idea who you are in the beginning

Some random person that's always seen drawing, painting, creating something.

He's seen some of your works hung around Auradon prep in expensive looking frames

He doesn't approach you for a while, in fact Gil is the first to meet you

Gil takes the same art course as you so you meet there when Gil had a bit of a paint disaster

Harry was originally cautious around you because he thought you'd be some stuck up art critique kind of person who was going to complain about Gil

But when you instead explain that you could see what he was trying to do but the actual execution of it wasn't great , Harry laughed with you

Overall your first meet was a positive one that was the beginning of a laughter filled relationship

Harry would always see you sat somewhere, in some weird position, scribbling away in your sketchbook

He eventually spots what you are drawing, or better yet who.

Him

He crashes.

All thoughts, Gone.

He's just staring at it for a good 5 minutes before you have to click your fingers in front of his face to wake him up.

"H- How, no, why are ye drawin' meh?" Heat rises to his cheeks and he slowly brings his thoughts back to Earth.

He'd already had been developing feelings for you since you two met. I mean you were nice to his friends, kind to him, he let you meet his sisters at one point and they seemed to even like you. You are fun to be around, you check that he's taking care of himself, you make sure he's not too bashed up from the sports he plays. What isn't there to like?

"You have a pretty face, nice to draw." He takes note of the blush that grows on your cheeks and the way you look off to the side with a shy smile growing. "I draw the people I like, the people I'm closest to."

His heart almost stops. Did you just try to kill him?! 'cause clearly you aren't aware of the way you make him feel.

I headcannon Harry to be Pansexual, as a pan person myself, so he was kinda well known on the Isle for being able to flirt with anyone he wanted for various reasons

But let me tell you, not once had he had the air knocked out of his chest from a few simple words.

You take his silence the wrong way and begin packing your things to go find somewhere to wallow in your shame, but Harry just drops to his knees in front of you.

"Please, draw meh, whenever ye want to." He is on his knees looking at you with the happiest smile he can muster and almost puppy like wonder in his eyes. "I'll be yours, if you'll be mine?"

Okay that bit came out a little too easy to him, he didn't really mean for that to happen.

But he can't complain since you agreed!

Everything you create for him, he treats like it's the most fragile item he's ever come in contact with

He's always showing it off though he's so appreciative of everything you do so he wants to show the entire world

When you feel down for not feeling your art is good enough, he's oddly prepared to show every bit of art you've ever given him with reasons on what makes it perfect to him

He may as well be prepared with a PowerPoint presentation on every one of your works he's seen

I fact he's probably prepared one somewhere, pictures, effects, transitions, the whole shebang!

He draws too, almost forgot to mention. I've got a little headcanon of him always doodling pirates on cool adventures when he was younger on the isle. I also like to imagine that there was a time where Evie and Harry liked to draw together but Evie drew Princesses and dress designs and Harry drew pirates which created some childish clashing between the two. So they'd stopped almost as soon as they started their little doodle hangouts

That's offtrack, sorry.

He gives you pictures of you in multiple different styles, each time it seems like he's trying to depict you as an angel of sorts

He also draws the Uma and the crew but he comes to check that he got everyone right with you

ART DATES.

YOU'RE GOING TO ALL THE MOST AESTHETICALLY PLACES HE CAN FIND

He may or may not let you take pictures of him for references as long as he can do the same with you, he's also pretty good at photography so he loves getting new picture of you with some fantastical background making you stand out so much more

Uma

Uma knew who you were when she arrived in Auradon, she'd heard your music played at cotillion

She couldn't complain about it, it wasnt her usual style but it was new and she liked that

When she had officially arrived she would notice you all around

Playing music for parties, proper events, even just around the school

Despite her not meeting you she subconsciously finds her way to you

She listens out for you whenever she can

She ends up actually meeting you thought Evie

Evie was designing everyone's outfits for a party so your fitting time overlapped into Uma's time. Uma didn't mind and in fact took the opportunity to tell you that she'd heard you around but hadn't had the chance to meet you

From then, you became quick friends.

Her feelings developed the more time she spent with you, she just loves listening to your music

She'd like to learn an instrument that would compliment your style of music so you could play together

She helps you with lyrics whenever you need the help

She first finds out that you write songs about your experiences and the people around you by looking at the lyrics for some of your songs

She finds it sweet that although you don't directly mention people, you can share the way you feel to them to those who will listen

But then she finds a song that's for her

I mean who else would it be for, she's the person you spend most of your time with and she's the pretty pirate with blue hair

She definitely looks over the lyrics and gets so giddy that she's kicking her feet with glee, when you walk in and see her smiling at the page she doesn't stop smiling

She immediately asks what you mean and when you tell her she latches onto you

Basically, she asks you out right then and there

Who are you to deny her? Of course you accept

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

So sorry it took longer than I thought, and sorry Uma's part was shorter thats my dumb lil brain being dumb