#he started at a low point but i can't think of anyone who has tried harder to fix his mistakes than zeus ;-;

[cottoncandyafterdark]

Parenting Heacanons - Chuuya, Atsushi

Character(s): Chuuya Nakahara; Atsushi Nakajima (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Tags: SFW, fluff, familial, headcanons

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy

Notes: AFAB reader; originally posted on ao3 here; this is old and I'm not caught up with the manga now so sorry if anything seems strange

Chuuya

I'm not going to lie, Chuuya's initial response to finding out his partner is pregnant is not going to be very positive. He's not angry or anything, but he didn't really want kids and doesn't feel the slightest bit ready to be a father. He isn't going to run away, though; he knows it's sorta his fault you're in this situation to begin with so he's going to swallow his pride and stick around for your sake.

He spends the whole pregnancy low-key dreading having to take care of a baby. Mostly because he's got no clue how to do that. That's not to say he isn't trying to find out how; if you check his browser history at this point, it'll probably be a lot of parenting articles.

He'll say he wants to leave naming the baby to you but if you come up with name ideas and ask him for his thoughts on them Oh Boy will he have some opinions for you.

As soon as the baby is born and he gets to hold it, it's like all his apprehension just vanishes into thin air, he is immediately in love. Like, he looks this tiny, helpless human he helped make in the eyes and immediately knows he would kill and die for them.

I think that it would be a more interesting dynamic if he had a daughter; he'd still be a good father to a son, but with a daughter, he would truly be wrapped around her little finger. That little girl will be SO spoiled, she'll be the one all her classmates want to be friends with because she has all the newest video games and the best dolls.

Lord have mercy on anyone who tries to bully his daughter, not just because he'll be more than willing to beat them up but if she's inherited any of her dad's personality, so will she. If she gets in trouble at school for fighting back against a bully, she will get high fives and ice cream from Chuuya.

When she's old enough, he'll teach her to fight for real. He knows he won't always be there to protect her, so he wants her to be able to keep herself safe.

Once she's old enough to start dating, Chuuya will do the entire protective dad routine to any boys she might bring home. He will all but do a full interrogation about what they're planning, make it known that he knows how to hide a body, and if they bring her home even a minute late he is going to lose it.

Word will get around about this. It is not going to be easy for Chuuya's daughter to find a prom date.

Atsushi

In the early stages of pregnancy Atsushi is going to feel sicker than you.

This poor boy is straight-up terrified to be a parent at first because of what his own childhood was like. It isn't that he doesn't want to have children, exactly, he just doesn't want to end up continuing the cycle of abuse. Of course, the fact that he's worried about that at all is enough to tell you that he'll be a fine father, but good luck convincing him of that.

Once his child is born, all his worries are going to lead him to go so far in the opposite direction, he's probably never going to so much as raise his voice at the kid. He is a major pushover of a parent, Atsushi's child could get away with murder.

He's also going to have a hard time denying them anything they want. This is going to be another spoiled child for sure. The kid's probably going to end up as a bit of a brat because of this, and Atsushi can't even get mad because he knows it's no one's fault but his own.

On the positive side of things he's going to be such a supportive dad as well. He'll be in the front row of any recitals, plays, spelling bees, anything like that his child participates in and he is going to clap the loudest because he's so proud of them!!!

He'll try to help them with their math homework at some point, but quickly realize that he doesn't really know how to do math either. Much frantic googling will ensue as Atsushi tries to quickly learn long division for his child's sake.

When they get old enough to start hanging out with friends on their own, Atsushi is going to be so worried if they stay out later than they said they would, even if it's just by a few minutes. He'll also want to know exactly who they're with and where they're going. He isn't trying to be overbearing, he just has anxiety.

Voted most likely to cry when his child moves out. Empty nest syndrome is gonna hit him so hard. His child is probably going to get daily texts from their honorary aunts and uncles at the Agency reminding them to call their dad.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #atsushi nakajima #bsd chuuya #bsd atsushi #bsd headcanons #old fic

[reignofolympus]

happy father’s day to zeus ;-; 

#he started at a low point but i can't think of anyone who has tried harder to fix his mistakes than zeus ;-; #anyway feeling suddenly very emotional abt this KJHGFND

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Hello lovely I hope this enough for a request but I was wondering if you would write a fic for Hunter x Jedi!Reader around season one. Hunter has the start of a crush on reader but once omega comes into the picture and he sees how good reader is with her he knows he needs to ask her out! Feel free to change whatever, I hope you like the idea!

I Will Protect You

Hunter x Reader

Summary- As a defective Jedi you are reassigned to The Bad Batch. How can you resist Hunter? Especially when he confesses after seeing how good you are with Omega.

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I LOVED this idea! I've contemplated doing something similar in the past, so I am so glad you requested this!

Word Count- 1,679

You remember being assigned to Clone Force 99 like it was yesterday. The day you were considered a 'defective' Jedi. While you were skilled in the force and an expert in wielding a lightsaber- you got attached.

In a mission gone wrong, you sacrificed yourself for your Jedi master. She was entirely grateful. Even though you made a full recovery, the Empire was not happy. Claiming you shouldn't have those 'emotional tendencies.'

You understood the purpose of severing all relationships, trying to only be one with the force. Emotions just came naturally to you! Connecting with all kinds of people, acting motherly to the less fortunate, and trying to be there for all of the clones.

The final straw for The Empire was when you were caught holding a small ceremony for a few fallen Clones. A fellow Jedi, you once called brother, turned you in.

You were immediately reassigned to Clone Force 99- labeled 'Defective.'

That was the same day you met Hunter. The first thing you noticed was his face tattoo, how attractive it looked. The skull covering half his face tickled your curiosity. You never had the courage to ask him about it, the whole 'don't get attached or you'll get reassigned' circled your mind.

You quickly grew to love Force 99. They accepted you, treated you like a human being. Not just a force wielder, something you'd never had. Despite your vow and upbringing, you considered them all to be your family.

Just under a year had gone by when Order 66 went out. You noticed how protective Hunter could be. He fought off droids, clones, and anyone who tried to harm you.

Not many knew of your Jedi background, allowing you to go into somewhat of a stealth mode. You acquired new gear, matching your team's. With a helmet on around others- your identity and life were safe. Though, you and Crosshairs friendship wavered...

The weight of your life always being at steak rested on you heavily. You couldn't sleep anymore, having gone days with low or no rest..

"Hunter, can we talk?" You asked him in the cockpit.

"Of course, what happened?" He looked worried.

Tech, however, does not even look up from his position as pilot.

"Uh, Tech, can we have a moment?" You asked, feeling a little guilty for making him leave.

Now he does look up, pressing some kind of 'auto-pilot' button. "Sure."

Great, now you already felt awkward.

"Look, I think I should go.." You got straight to the point. It hurt too much to draw it out.

Hunter's face fell, he was not expecting that. Though, a little part of you appreciated he cared so much.

"W-what?" He stepped closer to you.

"I just, well I just think it's for the best..." You fiddled with your fingers. The force felt moody, like something was off.

"Did something happen? Did Crosshair say anything! I swear I-"

"No, no. Nothing like that I promise!" You took the last step separating you. You were inches apart now.

"Did I do something?" He whispered, knowing he couldn't forgive himself if he did.

"No, I don't think there's anything you could do to make me turn from you." You whispered back, like a secret.

"Then what?" He softly asked.

You looked at the floor, unwilling to face him now. "I can't be the reason you guys are attacked. The Empire is after all Jedi's. You are all at risk if I am here..."

He, with the lightest touch, listed your chin up with a finger. "That doesn't matter... You're safest with us. You can't leave. Damn if the rest of us are in danger, I don't care. We will protect you. I won't let anyone take you." His voice was husky, he meant every word.

You didn't know how to respond, you were awestruck. Your legs felt like jello. All of your training out the window. You hadn't a thought except for him. Everything was suddenly him.

You just nodded, leaning further into his touch. Almost in a trance. You desperately craved his lips on yours. Just an inch forward and they'd be yours. So close-

A beeping made you gasp and pull away. Tech storming back in to the cockpit, taking his respective seat.

"Sorry to interrupt. We are about to land on Kamino."

You panted still, the exchange leaving you flustered. He eyed you, searching for any kind of rejection from you. Neither of you spoke with Tech in the room, you just looked at him with your head in the sky. You were unbelievably happy.

Unfortunately, you and Hunter were yet to bring that moment up again. Things kind of went back to normal, as you all got increasingly busy. Losing Crosshair and gaining Omega was a stressful time, you didn't have a second alone with Hunter. Even if you did want it more than anything.

Luckily, you had a calling to Omega. She was the sweetest girl you'd ever met, her positivity was inspiring.

You spent a lot of time with her, bonding especially when there was down time in-between missions. You also picked up on Hunters defensive and protective nature with her. He was undeniably acting as a father would.

"Yes, bullseye!" You jumped up and gave Omega a high-five. She was getting better everyday with her energy bow.

She laughed and bounced giddily.

"Now, lets see if you can hit a moving object." You encouraged her.

The two of you were far enough from the city to be hidden. You moved a small cart and a few bricks with the force. It slowly moved back and forth. It was hard concealing the powers you learned as a Jedi, but you soon adapted. Using the force less frequently as time went on.

She took a deep breath, inhaling as she pulled the bow string back. Just as she let the arrow go, it went flying past the target.

"Aw." She was visibly upset, not realizing how different moving targets were.

"Hey, it's okay. You should have seen me trying to move an object for the first time. It took me days to even lift a pebble." You proved your point by lifting a nearby stone up. "I still struggle sometimes..." You purposefully dropped the piece.

"You're so cool... I wish I was a Jedi! Then I wouldn't have to learn how to use an Energy Bow. I could just use my mind!" She made silly gestures. Moving a hand out to pretend she was wielding the force.

You smiled at her, deciding to shield her from the horrors of your childhood.

"I think an Energy Bow is just as cool. If not cooler!" You assured her.

"If you think so." She grumbled out, but ready to pull the string back again.

You sighed. "I think that's enough practice for today. It's getting late, honey." The sky was getting dark.

She looked displeased, "Why don't you go find Wrecker and get some dinner?"

She brightened up at this. "I'll save some for you too!"

You watched her as a mother would, making sure she was by Wreckers side before turning away.

"I can feel you staring." You announced, cleaning up the mess you and Omega made while training.

Footsteps were now heard as Hunter revealed himself. "Sorry." He acted as if you caught him doing something bad.

"Oh, I don't mind. I know you're just trying to keep Omega safe. Care to help?" You asked, bending down to place the brick back where they were found.

He walks to you, crouching to help. "Not just Omega." He says, lifting a few bricks.

"Hmm?"

"You as well." This made you blush lightly.

"Thank you, you know you'd make a really good father, right? Omega really looks up to you." You proclaimed, making sure Hunter knew his worth.

He stiffened, the words hitting his heart. "If anything she looks up to you. You're so good with her. It's..." He seemed to have regretted his choice of yours, continuing with- "You just always know what to say and do."

"It's what?" You asked, not letting him change the subject.

With a sigh he starts, "It's one of the reasons I love you so much." Another shift in the force, your heart thumping loud.

You stood, turning to him. A sense of Deja Vu rushed over you. To that day on the ship, the moment that was never resolved.

"You do?" You asked. Love was a feeling you were never supposed to feel as a Jedi.

"Have I not been clear? I live and breathe you..."

A flutter rests in your stomach. A sharp thrill reaching lower.

You walk to him, chest almost touching. "I don't think we finished what we started in the cockpit..." He declared, voice deep.

You shook your head. "No, we didn't. Are you going to make that up to me?" You spoke smug, but knew you'd melt at his touch.

"Only if you'll allow me..." A hand brushed against your forearm, resting there.

"Yes, of course..." He leaned down, his other hand now cupping your face.

He stopped just before his lips touched yours. "There won't be any going back." He whispered.

You didn't speak, only pushing yourself flush to him. It forced your lips to meet.

It was clumsy, you'd never done anything like this before. The Jedi code was very strict. You wondered if he had been with anyone else in that moment.

All of a sudden insecure over something you've yearned for.

Your thoughts were crushed with is next words, "You're perfect. So, so perfect." You turned a new shade of red, deeper and deeper.

"Watching you with Omega... Made me realize." He stopped, opting to kiss you once again.

You complied. He wrapped a hand around your waist, bringing you as close as you could be. Your arms lifted around his neck.

You pulled your head back slightly to breathe, "And what is that?"

"That I should ask this beautiful woman out." He stated, looking for your response.

"You didn't even have to ask..."

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this one, I hope you liked it!! It's like 1 am, so i'll come back and edit this when i'm not tired xD!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @dangraccoon @knight-of-flowerss

#clone force 99 #star wars #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #fanfic #tbb #the bad batch fanfiction #fem reader #bad batch #tbb x reader #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter #the bad batch downtime #hunter x reader #omega #wrecker #hunter x you #hunter tbb #Hunter tattoo is SO sexy #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #tbb wrecker #wrecker bad batch #omega tbb #tbb omega #hunter the bad batch #friends to lovers

[yeyinde]

I know this would be terribly inaccurate and morally wrong, but it's taking too much space up in my brain and I can't write NSFW to save my life and I'll stop rambling and get to the point about this random hoe ass dream I had the other night about Bear (Graves).

But that table in the middle of their storage area room thing (with the cages)? Imagine getting railed on that table. Horrible consequences if you're caught, but in the moment that doesn't matter.

I didn't even really clock the morally wrong portion of this until just now—I just immediately started writing it.

Warnings: MATURE | 18+ — pseudo exhibition kink, corruption (as in, MC does everything possible to break Bear), risk-seeking behaviour; light smut Word Count: 2,2k Notes: it's been so long since I wrote smut that I kinda forgot how. alsoooooooo. it's deffo early season 2 Bear. With the beard and the unhinged madness and tragic angst. Okay? Okay.

It's a whim. 

One of those terrible ideas you sometimes get—like the insatiable curiosity to know what it would feel like to snuff out an open flame between your thumb and forefinger, or lick the anode and cathode of a 9V battery just for the thrill of it. The electric hum of recklessness that surges through your veins, pitched right between the accompanying high of a short-lived adrenaline rush. An addictive sense of danger that isn't really dangerous. 

It isn't enough to kill you, or cause any severe injuries—no. You're not stupid. It's just one of those passing no good, bad, and very terrible ideas that leak from that place inside your head where madness and idiocy spool. 

Sometimes, it doesn't even hurt. 

(But you've always liked it better when it does.)

This, then, must be that. 

This, of course, being: 

Bear—so austere, so stalwart—bracing his thick fingers against the back of your neck, palm so wide it swallows you whole. Clipped nails pinching your skin when he digs in tight, holding on to you as he fucks you stupid, fucks you senseless against a metal table, perfectly perched in the middle of the room like an altar. 

His nails cut a scratch on your hip when he pulls you back by the bone to meet his heavy, hurried thrusts, growling low in his throat at the madness of this all. The danger. The recklessness. 

Eyes oscillating between the open doorway split into three possible entry points where anyone—Chase, Trevor, Buddha, Caulder—could walk in and see, catching Bear fucking you over a table; and you—

Bent over, fingers scratching at the linoleum beneath your hands, keening desperately for more. 

It's more brutal than you'd expect him to be considering where you are, where he is, but there's a weight to the way he pounds into you, a palpable sense of urgency, and need. Rapacious, you think, and wonder if it's the tantalising aspect of exhibitionism, the fear of getting caught, that brims white-hot in the balmy air between you, or if it's the setting alone that threatens to undo him. 

Fucking out in the open—with a man who yelped when you tried to ride him on the bed of his stupid pickup truck under the stars; vanilla incarnate, all American apple pie left to cool on an open windowsill in the heartland—is probably as close to true trouble as a man like him, the one bent over you now, has come before. You wonder if this is his Saddam. If he scents brimstone in the air when he curls over you, staining your skin with droplets of sweat that pools down from his brow, drips off his temples. 

It was that same sweat that started it all. 

Anger carved canyons into his forehead, ploughing five neat, little lines through tanned skin—flushed slightly pink near his hairline, and bleeding down across the bridge of his nose, the patch of skin between his lash line and beard, undoubtedly from standing on the sun-beaten shores of Virginia Beach all morning. The sweat that beaded across his skin was patchy, drying into patches of congealed salt above his brow, but dripping down his temples in rivulets of exertion, and cutting a clear path to his jaw, where it fell, pooling like a lagoon in the dips of his collarbones. 

You wanted to lick it off. 

An odd thought considering the arched reprimand he was in the middle of doling out. Sharp, slurred words of can't be here, and reckless, all undercut with an air of something balmy, something hot that simmers below the surface. 

His eyes flashed, cool blue to cobalt, when you lifted your shoulder in a lazy, half-hearted shrug, shirt slipping down, exposing skin to his irritated gaze, and, oh. Oh. 

The scorching heat you felt wafting off of him in puffs of humid air had little to do with temperature, with anger. 

The words, then, took on a new meaning. 

Can't be here, can't do this here. Reckless. 

And so, you leaned up on the tips of your toes, and flicked your tongue across his skin, eyes lidded and heavy as the briny tang of sweat and seawater flooded your senses. 

It was surprising that he let you. That after some more growling protests about shame, and public decency, he quieted fairly quickly when you slipped your hand into his trousers, letting the heft of him fill your palm. 

An incorruptible man, corrupted.

Opposites attract, you think, and then bite the notion in half when he slides in as deep as he can go, husking out a muted fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so fuckin' good into your shoulder. Opposites, maybe. But something about the way he grabs you hard enough to leave marks on your bones, drags you back into his harsh ruts, his frantic pace, makes you think something reckless, something damning, lives inside him, too. 

(He never would have let you tug his trousers down over his hips, let you arch over the table for him, if he didn't, after all.)

"This is—" his breath is humid on your skin, hands spasming over your flesh. You taste clarity in his words. Cognisance bleeds into them, spilling panic, and frenzied worry over your flesh. "This is stupid. We're gonna get caught—"

He huffs, and the rough scratch of his beard skates over your skin when he mouths against the curve of your bone. 

There is a moment when you think he might pull away. Where the urge, the drive, to be proper and pious, prim and good, brim up through the overwhelming dizziness of cacoëthes that spindles through your marrow, but you arch into him until you're pressed taut to his hips, full and gasping from having big Bear inside of you this deep, and tuck it back into the box it snuck out of. 

There's no place for decency when he has you bent over a table where anyone can wander past and see how good you take him. 

So, you push back against him, taking him in as deep as you can, and then deeper still when his hips stutter at the sudden push. It edges into too much when he's pressed flush against the soft curve of your ass, but you swallow down the whimper, and rock back on your heels, swaying against him until all you see is hazy gunmetal swimming in front of your eyes. 

It's always on that uneven edge of pain with Bear—dual sensations of too much intermixed with a heady thrum of pleasure that buffers out everything. A test of your mettle. He quizzes you on the limits of your resolve when he bucks his hips, sliding inside as deeply as he can go. Eking out a place within you that you might have been untouched, undiscovered, until him. 

Where his tests are physical—pushing into you as deep as he can, until you swallow him whole—you excel in destruction. The erosion of propriety. His self-control. 

(He shatters so prettily in your hands, like a supernova scattering across the inky black sky.)

This, then, is his test. 

And he clues into it almost as quickly as the plan formed inside your head, spooling fast and recklessly in that place that convinces you that adrenaline is your friend, and that climbing higher is always the goal. The spot inside that makes you always pick dare instead of truth. 

Bear knows—knew—of your plans when you pressed your lips to his, and still let you. A quick glance to the open doorway as you slide your tongue against his. The press of his fingers on the bow of your lips, a firm admonishment not to be too loud. 

You could take it as: 

Don't let us get caught. 

And you do. But you also hear the unsaid words murmured into your ear when he fucked you harder, hips pistoning into you as if daring you to make a sound:

Don't let this end too soon. 

"You're so bad, Bear," you coo, words tangled in pleasure as the blunt head of his cock batters into that spot behind your navel that never fails to make you sing. It rises. A quick flash of heat roiling in your belly; the whine of a coil being pulled too tight. Liquid bliss in red-hot agony. "Fucking me like this. I bet you want them to see. I bet you want them to watch you fuck me, don't you?"

The hiccup in your voice belies the accusations in your words. A tremulous, teasing warble that is met with his sharp, heady groan. 

"Oh, f–fuck—"

He's close. You feel him swell. Hear the rumble in chest as he loses that mechanical rhythm; a stutter of his breath, his hips. The bones in your hip ache when he digs in tight, holding you still as he pounds you with a fury unmatched by anyone else you'd ever known. He takes you like he's working out a problem. Like he's on the opposite lines of an allegiance, and is trying to fuck you stupid enough to ramble out the answers to the questions he asks. It disintegrates into madness. Desperation. His measured thrusts grow sloppy. His breaths ragged. 

The implosion of his self-control is almost more euphoric than the flood of molten pleasure blooming in your core. Your release offset by the unignorable crumbling of his resolve. 

"Come for me, Bear," you pant, your breath whitening the gunmetal table with plumes of condensation. "Come for me—"

His hand presses against the smooth slope of your neck, pushing your cheek into the slick table. His thick fingers spasm as he grows frantic, desperately chasing his own end in your spasming body, ready to follow you—quick and reckless—over the edge of a precipice, filled with an adrenaline-rush spiking through the pleasure. 

Things just feel better when it's dangerous, after all. 

Bear comes with a groan he can bare smother, pulling your hips back into his as he spends himself inside of you, the punchy grunts of a well-earned victory tumbling from his lips. The sound bounces off the condensation-slick walls, renting the air in two. His heavy breaths are magnified in the sudden absence of silence that always seems to follow a loud sound. 

His misery-filled groan is muffled by the back of your crown when he tips forward, and buries his face into your hair. In his defeat, you victory. A sweet damnation that you relish as he struggles to regain footing after losing control. His brassbound resolve is still in tatters, and spilled across the back of the table he'll use tomorrow with everyone else, haunted by the images of you spread out and willing as he tries to pretend he doesn't know what it feels like to grip the end of the table and fuck you senseless in a room designed to amplify all sound. 

You grin into the metal when he husks out a mangled fuck into your sweat-slicked hair. It reeks of resignation. Of a man who stood so long on the crown of propriety slinking down to the depths of hedonism and bliss. Breaking the rules feels almost as good as fucking on top of them, and your mind races with all the ways you can break him again. 

And Bear, as usual, has a tap into that place inside that leaks bad ideas, and can only shake his head with a huff. 

He doesn't even bother saying no. 

(Caulder owes you ten bucks. It seems you can teach an old, pious seal new tricks.)

Your legs are still shaking like a newborn fawn. You feel him inside you still, and the phantom stretch of him touching places and pieces of yourself he really shouldn't makes you quiver. The ache in your thighs is the good kind, though. The lasting impression of success after obtaining exactly what you set out to do. 

Climbing a mountain. Running five miles. Fucking Bear Graves in the locker room with everyone else just a breath away. 

(Check, check, and check—)

He helps you into the truck, eyes sweeping over your shoulder to look for anyone else in the parking lot who might ask questions. Solid, reasonable ones like why do you stink like sex? and did you just fuck them in the locker room, Bear?

You could try and reassure him that it's empty. That no one cares. That it's all in his head. 

But you like the clench of his jaw, the flash of teeth when you giggle at him. Once the high of his release comes down, anger will follow. The kind that makes him loom. He'll lecture you about safety and decorum and not to sneak into his work to fuck him—

He'll wind himself up. Get himself nice and heated. He'll see it as a question to his authority. A tremor in his self-control. 

And to regain the footing he lost—

Well. 

It'll be a good night for you. 

"You're a bad influence," he mumbles into your jaw, words muffled by his heavy breath he buckles you in. 

You count each line in his forehead as a win, and try not to preen. "You love it."

#Joe Graves #Joe Graves x Reader #Bear Graves x Reader #i hate editing my stuff and tagging things #and that is all #Bear Graves #Bear x You

[greyskyflowers]

I continue to look for an AU fic where Ichigo dies and no one can find him anywhere in soul society for years. To the point that they start to think maybe he just went into the reincarnation cycle already.

Eventually the Rukongai has some type of issue and a few of the shinigami are sent out to follow up on it. While responding to it they happen upon a small, nervous child.

One of the younger and newer shinigami tries to get some information out of her or what she may have seen, they wouldn't have hurt her, but they move too quick and she jerks back. They don't even have time to apologize before a boy is standing in front of her and scowling.

He's so small. All protective fury and barely contained fear tucked into too thin limbs and dusty, bruised skin. His hair is bright, even under all the dirt.

His little chin wobbles but he still holds it up to look them in the eyes, and there are tears welling up but he blinks them away. His legs don't shake the whole time though.

There's no memory or recognition in his eyes when he looks at those who knew him.

Because everyone would spoil the hell out of him, I need the Visored and Kisuke spoiling the hell out of him.

This time he can grow up slower and with more love and support than he knows what to do with.

This time when he learns to raise a blade it won't be because he has too. Maybe this time he decides to use his hands for healing or focus on strategy.

And any blood shed will be under their watchful eyes, in training or the small accidents children always get into, instead of life or death battles.

Ichigo is always going to be a protector at his core and he'll always be the first one in and the last one out.

They can make sure he's not alone though, that the burden isn't solely on him and that he's not just a power piece in everyone's plans.

This time the protector gets to be protected.

And maybe some day they'll tell him that the hero in the stories they tell him are actually him.

*******

Ichigo asking to hold hands with Kensei and okay, how is Kensei suppose to say no to those big eyes? He can't. Ichigo holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers until Kensei takes it. Shūhei letting Ichigo cling to his leg and sit with him while doing paperwork, and Mashiro carriing him on her back and zooming around.

The 11th division making off with him and everyone's low key concerned at first because it's the 11th but they shouldn't have worried. They all spar with Ichigo and it's easy to see how happy he is when they carefully knock him over and then help him up before going over how to better his stance or block a hit. They howl and yell in support when he gets a hit in and he proudly shows off the hard earned scrapes and bruises.

Renji carrying him around on his shoulder and grinning at small fingers that tangle in his hair and pull a little too hard when excited. Rukia spending hours drawing with him and they stick their art up everywhere they can get away with it. They put up multiple in Byakuya's office and he doesn't acknowledge anyone who dares asks about taking them down.

Yoruichi napping with Ichigo and purring when he uses her a pillow or even letting him wrap his arms around her like a stuffed animal. She's known to smack out a paw at anyone who tries waking him up or moving him.

Kisuke and Ichigo staring at each other for 10 minutes when they first meet again, before Ichigo seems to find whatever he was looking for and gives a shy smile. Kisuke is absolutely gone, surprisedrelievedhappysohappy and protectprotectprotect burning in his chest.

Shunsui and Ichigo sitting together and enjoying nice afternoons. Both have little ceramic cups, Ichigo's has little berries painted on it that he had proudly done himself. No one mentions it was because of Lisa's wrath when she saw Shunsui giving Ichigo a sake cup of water. Now it's clearly marked and usually contains a bright, clearly not sake, colored juice.

Hiyori teasing him like a big sister and smacking him with her sandal when he does something reckless. They play pranks on Kisuke and Shinji frequently.

Kūkaku and Ganju occasionally stealing Ichigo and smothering him with the affection they were never able to give him before. They tell him about their clan without mentioning or hinting at the relation. Ichigo listening in excitement and saying he wished he had a family like that, not knowing why that makes them both look so happy but also so sad.

Shinji being one of Ichigo's favorites because he speaks to Ichigo like an adult. He tells him the truth when he asks questions and always helps him get back on his feet when he's been knocked off them. He lets Ichigo play with his hair and he always scares away any monsters that might be hiding behind shady corners and under dark steps. Sometimes he watches Ichigo with a weird look on his face, something between the way Kūkaku looks at him and Kisuke looks at him. Almost guilty... sorrowful. Grief is so heavy. When Ichigo asks about it, Shinji doesn't give an answer. It's one of the only times he feels like Shinji is hiding something from him.

#bleach #ichigo kurosaki #kisuke urahara #shinji hirako #kukaku shiba #hiyori sakurada #yoruichi shihouin #shuhei hisagi #shunsui kyoraku #mashiro kuna #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #ganju shiba #hello bleach fandom #its been like 15 years but im backkkk #i need more ichigo being spoiled fics #pleaseeee #reaping souls with greyskyflowers

[kingslimeball]

The Coffee or The Man

Steve Harrington x male!reader

contents; fluff

Summary; steve finds out that his crush on his best friend was much more obvious than he thought

The clock ticks again, and again, and again. It had been ten minutes since M/n left to get a coffee for Steve, yet he can't stop staring out the window and glancing at the time. No matter how long Steve stares, nothing seems to change, so he instead appears rather desperate. The VHS tape in his hand still hasn't been placed on the shelf. He's a statue now, helpless and longing...

"Steve!" The familiar voice shakes Steve out of his trance. His head whips around to look at Robin, who's giving him a rather suspicious look. "Are you seriously that desperate for M/n to get back?" She teases, leaning against the shelf with a knowing smirk. Steve just scoffs, moving his arm forward. He tries to put the VHS on the shelf but misses and has to look to put it on properly.

"I don't know what you're implying, but I just really want that coffee." Steve replies, not looking back at Robin. Robin puts down her tapes and moves closer to Steve, trying to get his full attention. "You didn't want M/n to leave when he offered." She retorts.

"Look– I–" Steve cuts himself off, jaw hung low as he tries to think of some kind of excuse. He looks at Robin and huffs. "He's my best friend. I just wanted his company."

"Right, right. But are you aware of the way you look at M/n?" Robin tilts her head as if trying to get her point across. Steve is fully aware.

It all started not that long ago when M/n and Steve were trapped in the Russian basement together. M/n had sacrificed himself to protect Steve from any harm while he got tortured for answers. Steve was grateful, very grateful. But he also felt love for M/n in that moment. He tried to push it away. To convince himself that he's not the sort of guy that likes men. But he couldn't seem to change himself. He still can't.

Several months later, Steve is even deeper in love with M/n. He doesn't want to admit that to himself, talk about to Robin. It's all so confusing. Why has Steve suddenly started liking guys? And why his best friend of all people?

"I look at him how I look at anyone." Steve denies, grabbing a tape and continuing to stock the shelf. He wants to move on from the conversation. But he knows Robin will persist. "No, you don't! You love him, don't you? Just be honest with me." She continues to pry.

"Robin! I'm not gay. Just drop it. We talked about this. I like boobies or whatever." Steve argues, clearly getting more frustrated in his tone. "Just because you like women doesn't mean you can't like men. Specifically, M/n." She explains.

Steve doesn't quite know what to say now. He's been caught, and there's no denying it anymore. He can barely admit this to himself, talk about one of his closest friends. He can't quite force any words from his lips that agree to Robin's accusations. If Robin finds out, that means other people would eventually find out, including M/n. But also including Steve's parents. They'd kill him.

"I just want him to get back with my coffee. That's it." Steve says, finally able to get words out of his mouth, despite the devastating crack in his voice.

"Is it the coffee or the man that you want?" Robin asks, barely even considered a question. They both know the answer.

Ding!

Steve and Robin look over at who's entered the store. M/n walks in, back pressed into the door as both of his hands are holding a cup of coffee. Steve completely blocks out whatever M/n is saying, too distracted by his own feelings at just seeing the boy enter. Exchanging a glance, Steve and Robin make a telepathic agreement to be quiet about this, nodding their heads once.

M/n doesn't need to know. Not yet.

#joe keery #steve harrington x male reader #joe keery x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader

[tsukkismoonlight]

When It Comes To You || J.K × Reader

Summary: You've somehow gotten stuck with the most obnoxious (Minus boy genius Armin Arlert) group ever for a college class project. Eren Jeager, and Jean Kirstein. The latter of which seems to find a way to weasel his way into your life, making your plans for a quiet college experience fall away.

Author's Note: okay, like a year and some odd change in months later i'm finally posting this fic!! Honestly life kinda got in the way but we all know how it is. Anywayyyys, I hope yall enjoy! This is my first longer fic, so let me know what you guys think! Also super big shoutout to my buddies on discord for beta reading the first portion of this! <3 wk: 16.7k

Warnings: unedited, probably ooc characteristics who knows

"Would you two knock it off?" were your first words since the two bone-headed, annoying, loud-mouthed boys had started arguing. 

Here you were, in an empty classroom, supposed to be working on a group project for at least an hour or two, and the /only/ thing that your group had done was bicker back and forth. 

The first of the two boneheads, Eren Jeager, had spent the whole time insisting on his ideas, and his ideas alone, while the other, Jean Kirstein, had only been arguing that the former's ideas were stupid and that 'if anything, Eren should shut his trap and just do the grunt work.'

The blonde, Armin Arlert, was clearly just as done with them, but took a more quiet approach to trying to stop them. Any time he could interject, he tried to reason with the two, but of course neither would listen. 

So, when you stood up, slamming your palms onto the table and shouting at them, all three of them quickly grew quiet. "We only have so much time to work on this project, and I am /not/ going to fail this project because you two idiots can't let go of your egos for more than two seconds!" 

"Well, maybe if this asshole would-" Eren started, mostly keeping his voice at a low grumble, sounding like a scolded child.

Jean, cutting Eren's words short while crossing his arms across his chest, "Oh yeah, /I'm/ the asshole here…"

But with another of your glares sent to both of them, the two stopped once more.

"Maybe we should split up the work?" Armin was already writing out two plans, where you could make out his name and Eren, meaning that you were stuck with Jean. 

Not that you wanted to be with either of them. You'd rather take Armin and just leave the other two to fail. But, as this was a group project, Professor Hange had made it clear that points were to be docked for any group that did not complete the assignment together.  

You plopped back into your seat, sighing heavily. "Okay, we will work in two groups. Looks like Eren, you're going with Armin, and Jean, you're with me." You paused as Armin slid over the paper he had drafted up. 

Glancing over it, you could see that he had given you and Jean a good amount of work, yet he had still given himself more. Part of you wanted to point it out, maybe even offer to take some of the load, but the other part of you knew that Armin would refuse and somehow make it sound like the nicest thing he'd ever do.

"Okay, so, from there, once all the research is done, Armin and I will meet up in person to work on the presentation bits, which means that Eren and Jean, you will only need to put your findings in a document for us. That should be easy enough." 

When no one objected, you started to pack up your things.You waited for Jean to take a picture of the draft before tucking it away in a folder carefully. 

Around you, the others started to do the same. With a small breath of relief, you finished packing up and slung your bag over your shoulders, looking to each of your groupmates slowly. "If anyone has questions,” you announced, “please text me. I gave Armin my number already, but if you need mine, ask now."

Eren slid his phone across the table to you, a sour look on his face, as he was clearly upset with the whole situation, and the fact that he had been yelled at over it. You ignored his attitude and typed in your number before returning the phone to him.

Next was Jean, who looked at you for a few moments, then handed his phone over to you, where you repeated the process of saving your number for him. 

With that done you set off to your dorm.You didn't live alone, but it was bound to be a wonderful change in pace (and in volume levels). When you arrived, you slipped your shoes off and headed for your room, pausing for a second as you saw one of your roommate and probably your closest friend Sasha Braus. Currently she was sitting on the floor of her room, clutching a bowl of soup…or what was probably a bowl of soup, as it was empty now. 

"Oh, hey! You're back already?" she asked, turning to you with a spoon dangling from her mouth. It caused a slight slur in her words, so it came out more like, "Ohhh, heyyy, yer bick alreaty?"

With a sigh, you walked into her room, dropping your bag by the door before flopping onto her bed (which was incredibly comfortable). "Yeah, I called it quits early because I got paired with Armin, Jean, and Eren, and Armin is fine and all, but your stupid friend and Eren can't go more than five seconds without fighting." 

You could hear a soft clink as Sasha put her spoon down. "Well, it always works for me to hit them." 

"I can't hit my group mates…even if I want to," you grumbled, rolling over onto your side so you could see her.

"I can hit them for you then, just tell me when and where." She flexed her arms, raising her eyebrows up and down at you as she did so. 

This caused a breathy laugh to come from you. You could feel yourself starting to relax. Your two roommates were probably the only reason that you had stayed sane so far. 

Sasha was always good at getting you to smile, at times she wouldn't stop until you showed some sign of positivity. And of course you were more than grateful for it. 

When you had first moved to the dorms, you had kept to yourself, unsure if you really liked her at all. But with time, you warmed up to her easily. 

There had been a handful of nights where she would invite you to stay up and just talk, or watch some movie. And, at times, she would share food with you, which you learned wasn't always her favorite thing to do. 

"Hey, one of these days we need to catch up on Food wars." 

You looked back to her, nodding along, "Oh for sure! Maybe sometime this next week I can stay up with you and we can watch it. Maybe buy some junk food too." 

At the prospect of snacks, she perked up even more. "Can we get-"

"Yes, we can get the baked potato flavored chips." 

"You didn't even let me finish!" Sasha pouted a little, though still unable to hide her excitement at the confirmation of her favorite snack.

You reached down and flicked her forehead lightly, "Well I already knew what you were going to say. It wasn't hard to figure out."

"Hey! I could have asked for something different! Like, salt and vinegar ones!" 

"You don't even like those, and neither do I. We wouldn't ever buy any." 

The two of you talked for another five or so minutes until she had to leave, shouting something about Connie Springer owing her dinner. You took the time to go back into your own room which you actually shared with a third roommate ( neither of you wanted to share a room with Sasha because of her snoring). However, he wasn't home yet, which meant that he'd probably be back late.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag and plugged it in; then you went to grab your notebooks, some pens and pencils, and finally your copy of the book for your project. It was best to get a headstart on the project, as it was worth most of your grade. 

Professor Hange had assigned the class to read and analyze an old book written by a nameless author. The idea and plot was interesting to a point. It was a war between mere humans, and a race of humans that could take control of what they called titans. The main two parties at war were named Marley and Eldia, both of which claimed that the other was in the wrong, and had vowed to take revenge, wanting to eradicate the other's existence. Towards the end, there was something of a compromise, and Marley seemed to come out victorious. All in all, there was a lot more to it, and the details were typically gorey and morally wrong. The ending wasn't ever written, leaving all readers to question what they knew and what they may not have been told. 

This is where your project came in: you were to try and look into the book, outside sources, even artwork, whatever the class could get their hands on, and work on an analysis. Hange hadn't given many guidelines; they wanted to leave it open and see what the class would come up with. Your group hadn't made a decision yet, but so far, Eren was dead set on writing an analysis on who he thought was right and freedom and some other crap, while Jean only had talked about how Eren was wrong. 

Luckily enough, Armin had already written up a potential analysis summary, one that focused on how the two sides were similar and what they shared in common with the rest of humanity, and how trying to pick a side would only allow their bloody history to repeat again. His was rather long winded, but it allowed for you to pick and choose the best parts, and what you guys wouldn't really need. 

You spent some time searching the internet for more sources, coming across a few articles on what could be a deeper meaning to the story, and a few on what could have been the rest of the world's view on both Marley and Eldia. 

That was when you came across a page for the local museum; it seemed that there was going to be an exhibit about the book, featuring many different artists and even some written works. Taking a moment to write down the dates and price for tickets in your phone’s note app. You then sent a quick text to Armin about it, letting him know that if he wanted, you could go and check it out with Jean. 

Clicking your phone off, you gave a heavy sigh and stood up, pulling your arms above your head in a stretch before continuing to work on the project. You knew that you should probably eat something, and drink some water, as you hadn’t really been able to do so in the last few hours. But with the project being so important, you decided against getting back up. If you got up now, chances were that you’d end up wasting some time doing who knows what. You really needed to just focus on your work, food, water and relaxing could come later. This was typical for you, what was one more time anyways?

Quietly, your afternoon quickly turned to night, and you wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for both of your roommates crashing into your room. 

You turned around, eyeballing Sasha and your third roommate, Marco Bodt, unsure if you really wanted to ask questions. 

"She was drinking with Connie at his place," 

"Huh? Noo I waz'nt ! Conn and I were jus playin a game an' then…and then..mmkay maybe I was drinking, but!" Sasha rambles on for a minute, still leaning heavily on Marco, who just gave a half hearted and weary smile. 

You shook your head, and stood up, making your way over to Sasha taking her off Marco's hands "Was Connie like this too?" you asked.

"Yeah, he and Jean both…" Marco sighed, following you as you took Sasha to her room. While you carefully put her in her bed,  Marco pulled her shoes off for her. 

At his words, you paused for just a moment then you continued to fish Sasha's phone from her pocket, placing it on the charger for her. 

"Of course, Jean was drinking, too." you remarked. You tried your best to ignore the irritation rising in you. It wasn't like you guys had to get the whole project done right away, or that Jean couldn't enjoy a drink with his friends. But, it wouldn't surprise you if only Armin and yourself had been the only two to even start.

As the two of you left Sasha to sleep, Marco motioned to the kitchen, saying, "Hungry?" You gave a small nod in response.

Once in the small kitchen area, you hopped onto the counter while your roommate got to work on making something simple. From the looks of it, he was just making mac and cheese, but you couldn't really care less. You hadn't noticed it earlier, but you were actually starving. 

A quiet buzz from your pocket pulled your attention from Marco cooking, and you pulled your phone out, seeing a few messages from an unsaved number. 

"Heyy, it's me"

"Jean"

"just figured i'd text you since we have be partners"

"Not complaining cause i dont wanna be stuck with eren" 

You shook your head at your phone, typing a quick reply back, “Wow really? I couldn’t tell.”

Another buzz, another incoming message, “I really hate that guy. He’s stuck up, and always thinks he’s right”

“You know, I feel like there’s someone else like that too.” You sucked in a deep breath, already feeling a tinge of annoyance creeping its way into your body. Sure, Jean was bound to be the better of the two, but that didn’t mean that you wanted him texting you about his testosterone fueled hatred for Eren.

A few moments pass before he texts you again, the words a little hard to make out at first, “you better not be implying that im like him”

“I would never do that. You are an okay person in my eyes”

“Just okay? I’m fuckin’ great!”

“Yeahh, sure. I agree with you, 100%”

You could almost feel his skeptical gaze through your phone as he sent yet another message, “I dont know if I believe that.”

“I dont care if you believe it or not tbh”

“I cant tell if you like me or not”

At this, you paused. You didn’t really know the guy outside of what you were told by Marco and Sasha. And he definitely did not know you. If he did, he wouldn’t be bothering you right now. But as much as that all was true, you also didn’t want to outright say that you didn’t like him, at least not over text while he was suspiciously hitting you up out of the blue.

“im not sure if like is the right word. Right now I tolerate you.” 

“Thats a good thing right?”

You didn’t answer, figuring that he would eventually get the hint. But, within minutes, he was texting you yet again. You watched as more messages popped up one by one, all of which just as hard to read as the others. Though you eventually figured them out. He was promising to do his share of the project, as well as promising to keep on schedule with it. The last thing he sent was asking to meet up tomorrow, and figure out what you wanted him to do, and something about how he couldn't really understand the guideline sheet. 

You sent a quick reply, just a place and a time, before returning your phone to your pocket, and just in time, Marco had a bowl of delicious mac and cheese for you. 

"Thanks man, you're the best." 

"Hey, you cooked last night," he said, shrugging, "and somehow it was pretty impressive, given the fact that we're all super broke and have next to nothing in our cupboards," 

You let out a small laugh at that. "I am a person of many talents."

"Do tell your secrets, as I am eager to know," Marco says in-between bites, playing into the bit.

"Oh, I couldn't, because then you would have to learn my /tragic/ backstory of how I had to fend for myself as a child." You dramatically sigh, placing a hand to your forehead, and then paused, peeking out at Marco before saying, "That part is actually true. At my house, we often had 'Fend for Yourself Nights' where you kinda just threw stuff together it could be leftovers, cereal or, like, dry ramen." 

Marco chuckles, pointing his fork at you and saying "So that must be the secret then!" 

The kitchen rendezvous went on for a while longer before you both headed off to bed, agreeing that Sasha can do the dishes when she wakes up. 

The next day, you had managed to drag yourself out of bed and find your way to the coffee shop where you were supposed to be meeting up with Jean. 

Key word is 'supposed' to be, since it had been 30 minutes since you had gotten there. Hopefully, you didn't look like some poor soul that had gotten stood up on a date and more like someone enjoying their Saturday morning. 

Another ten minutes passed, and no word from Jean, you had finished your coffee, and had already finished working on pulling out key information from a few of the web sources that you found the night before. 

You glanced at the time again and cursed under your breath. You had better things to be doing. So, you quickly pack up your things and toss out the trash before leaving.  

Just as you returned to the little table to grab your bag, the bell at the door chimed, drawing your attention.  

There stood Jean Kirstein himself, out of breath, hair hastily brushed out of his face, and clothes a whole mess…you were pretty sure he had worn them yesterday too. 

However, his sudden entrance had also gathered stares from everyone in the shop;most people looked on with a frown, questioning why he had just thrown open the door like that, just to stand there looking like a lost puppy. 

You groaned, marching towards him and then grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the way. 

"Seriously? You show up almost an hour late, and make a big scene?!" you say, continuing to pull him down the sidewalk.

"I know, I know!" He took in a sharp breath, stumbling as he went. 

"I mean seriously?! What's your deal?" 

"I didn't mean to be late! And can you stop shouting? My head is killing me…" 

You came to an abrupt stop and turned around to face him. "It doesn't matter if you didn't mean to be late, you were still late! I mean, come on, I sat there and looked completely stupid while I waited!" 

At your words, he tugged his arm free from your grasp, and hesitated for a moment before, saying, "Okay, I'm sorry. I should have been here on time." 

"Or at least texted me to tell me!" You sighed, bringing a hand up to your temple. "Whatever, let's just find somewhere else to sit and I can show you what your part of the project is." 

With those words, the two of you walked in silence until you were back at campus, arriving at one of the rooms designated for studying. It didn't take long to run through Jean's responsibilities, and for you both to settle into a somewhat uncomfortable quiet and begin to work. 

Currently, you were taking the information gathered earlier and writing them into evidence for your thesis while Jean was searching for art pieces to analyze. 

Every fifteen to twenty minutes or so, you'd check in with eachother and help if needed-and Jean needed more help than you did, really. 

And maybe if he hadn’t spammed you with drunk texts the night before, and then came late to your meeting, it wouldnt have bothered you as much. So when he did ask for your help, you were being short and to the point. Luckily for you, helping him was easy. It consisted of choosing between artwork, and identifying key themes or details that stood out, and then giving him ways to write it down so that it made sense with the overall idea behind your project. Now and then, you'd have him read over what you wrote, just to see what all he thought and if he had any suggestions.

Finally, after a few hours, Jean leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly. "Okay, I think we've got a lot done. Why don't we break for the day?" he suggested.

At his words, you hesitated. While a break did sound nice, you'd much rather keep working. If you got ahead, there'd be time for breaks later, or time for helping Armin and the others. 

"You go on ahead, I'm going to stay a little longer. Thanks for showing up today." You gave a small smile before looking back down to your laptop, trying to spot where you left off. 

For a moment or so, Jean packed up his things, not necessarily quietly, but enough for it not to bother you. Though, after he finished doing so, he didn't leave. Instead, he stood /annoyingly/ close to you, seemingly trying to burn holes into the back of your head. 

"Is there something you need or…?" 

"You're seriously going to stay and work more?" 

"...Yeah?" 

Jean let out a small series of 'tsk' noises and began to close your notebooks and the few textbooks you had brought. You stuttered out half of a sentence, none of it making any sense, as you watched him stack up your things, his finishing move to carefully close your laptop without even shutting it off. 

"What are you…Why…I mean-what?" 

"I think you work too hard." he remarked, grinning. Normally that would sound snarky coming from him, this time he sounded gentle, and nothing in his face seemed to show any ill will. "I mean, I've never seen you do anything fun. All you do is push yourself to do work." 

You were at a loss for words, face heating up with embarrassment. Just because he had never seen you do fun things didn't mean that you were some sort of shut in who only ever focused on homework and studying. 

Jean waited for you to pack your things, all of which you did while in a small haze, trying to comprehend it all. When you were done, he motioned for you to follow him, not saying a word of what he had planned. 

The two of you walked outside, Jean slightly ahead of you as he continued to lead the way. Occasionally, someone would stop Jean, asking him about a party or a class. He seemed to have a lot of friends, or rather just a lot of acquaintances.

Eventually, you both came to a little grassy field, one where students often came to waste time, or play games like spikeball, or frisbee. Currently, it wasn't very busy, and the two of you found a spot to sit and relax under a warm spring sky.

For the first five minutes, you sat in silence, an almost comfortable one. You found yourself mumbling about how this wasn't so bad, noticing from the corner of your eye as Jean turned to look at you. 

"Would I ever lead you astray?" Jean elbowed you carefully, earning a scowl from you. 

"Given that we don't really know each other, I'm not sure," you retorted. 

"I know that we've had at least three classes together since freshman year, and that you don't seem to like anyone," he pointed out. 

"Not true,” you said. “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot," 

At this he barked out a laugh, a wonderful sound really, compared to his typical evil sounding snicker. "Okay, so you appreciate the presence of three specific people." 

"Three? I only named two people," you said, holding up two fingers to signify your only two friends. 

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but right now you don't seem to hate me, so I counted myself."

You gave another scowl."If we were able to pick our own groups, I would have picked other people, just for the record" 

"Ouch, that kind of stings." 

You couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but one thing you did know was that he probably wouldn't have picked you either.  Not that it really bothered you. While it was true that you've shared classes in the two years that you've been in college, the two of you never really talked. 

Sure, you've had the quick conversations in the hall, or maybe accidentally bumped into each other when trying to take Sasha home, or even just when Jean would hang out with Marco at your dorm. 

It wasn't that you didn't like him (aside from his huge ego and inability to get along with certain people) or even that you didn't like people in general. You honestly just wanted to focus on school, so that you would graduate on time, and get the hell out of this town. Personal relationships could come later, and you were completely content with that. Being alone wasn't something that bothered you. Or, something that you /let/ bother you. 

You leaned back until you were laying down in the grass, staring up at the cloudy sky. The more you thought about it, the more your head seemed to churn with an anxious and maybe even guilty conscience. 

"By the way, I'd say that, even though we didn't get to pick our own groups, I don't mind being paired with you." You sighed, keeping your eyes trained on the sky as Jean laid down next to you. 

From there, the conversation switched to a few different topics, one of them being a small argument over the particular shape of a cloud and what you thought it was. 

Eventually, the clouds dissipated, and the sky faded from its blue to a dusty orange lined with a pale pink-ish-purple. 

"I guess it's time to go home for the night," Jean said. 

"Mhm, guess so," you quietly said, but made no effort to sit up yet. 

Next to you, Jean stood, brushing off his clothes and running a hand through his hair, attempting to make sure there wasn't any grass on his person. Then, when it was apparent that you still hadn't even moved, he nudged you with his shoe. "You coming or what?" 

"I’m waiting," 

"For what?" 

"The first star I see" 

Jean slowly looked away from you and to the sky, "Can I ask why?" 

"No." 

It wasn't really a big deal, but this was your favorite time of the day, and you had the habit of looking for the first star you could find and making a small wish on it. It had been something you'd done ever since you were a kid; old habits die hard. But it wasn't something you just went and told people about, especially not someone like Jean. You were sure that he'd poke fun at you for it. 

His voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and you watched as he pointed just above your heads. "I think there's one over there." 

From your perspective, he was lined up to where the star was atop his finger.The sight made you smile softly; you didn’t notice that he had glanced back down, watching the small moment. 

"Okay, now we can go." You sat up slowly and climbed to your feet, grabbing your bag from where it had been by your feet. 

The two of you parted ways for the night, and you found yourself back at your dorm, which was uncharacteristically empty and quiet. Either Sasha would come home drunk again (or with her hands full of food that she got from Connie or that Niccolo guy) or that she would stay out for the night. Marco on the other hand, was probably visiting some other friends for the short weekend, so most likely, you had the place to yourself until the following evening. 

With the freedom at hand, you took some time to make dinner and lounged around the shared living space, until eventually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you forced yourself into your bed for the night.

The sound of knocking at your door woke you up. At first, you had half a mind to ignore it, but with your roommates, and the friends they had, the knocking wouldn't stop.  You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was around noon, a time that you hardly ever slept in till.

"Yeah, okay, I'm up. Who is it?" you grumbled at the door, noting that if it was Marco, he wouldn't necessarily need to knock, meaning that it must be Sasha. 

And it was. At your words, she swung the door open lazily, and leaned around the corner, "Heyyy, I was wondering if you had plans today? Connie, Jean, and I were going to play some volleyball! Wanna come? Marco is gonna join us later!" 

You took a moment to think it over. It was Sunday, so you didn't have classes, and depending on how long you were out, you could always do more homework later. Not to mention, Jean's comment about how you worked too much was still fresh in your mind. 

"...Yeah, okay, I'll come play. Give me a few minutes and I'll get dressed." 

She gave you a huge grin, shouting over her shoulder, "They said they'd come! You guys still have the net?" 

You watched as she disappeared back into the main area of the dorm, and then shut your door to change. When you exited, you could see the three of them waiting by the door, Jean holding the net, while Connie was tossing the ball between his hands. 

The walk was fairly short, as Jean had suggested the field that the two of you had been at the other day, and just like the day before, there weren't very many people out. You guys could set up a spot without having to worry about anyone else. 

At least, that's how it was at first. The game went smoothly. Surprisingly, all three of them were pretty good at the sport; though, if you had to rank them, it would be Sasha, then Jean (mostly because he can use his height to his advantage), and then Connie. 

For the first game you played, it was you and Sasha versus Jean and Connie. Then, it switched to you and Connie, and finally, you and Jean. 

No one was really counting points; no one could keep track, though each side was sure that they were winning, even if they weren't. It was about halfway through the current match, right as you were about to serve, when something came crashing into your head. 

It had hit you pretty hard, and it took you a moment to even realize what had happened and what was currently happening. 

"Hey, man, watch where you throw this thing! You nearly took my partner out!" Jean was holding a football and pointing it aggressively at another college student, who you think was named Floch or something close to it. 

The guy snatched the ball from Jean, giving him the dirtiest look. "Well, maybe you guys shouldn't be playing so close to where we are." 

At this, Connie and Sasha stepped up. Connie took to Jean's side, starting to bicker with the guy, while Sasha checked your head, fussing over you. 

"Just say sorry to our friend already. You can at least agree that you hit them!" You weren't sure who said that, as all the voices blended together until that moment. Suddenly all eyes were on you. 

More specifically, Floch's eyes. He regarded you warily, annoyance clear in his eyes and voice. "Your dumbass friend looks fine to me,” he sneered. “And besides, we tried to warn them, and they didn't move. It's their own fault. Don't go blaming me for your friend being an idiot." 

You weren't sure what came over you; maybe it was anger from the childish name calling, or maybe it was the stress of the week getting to you, but within an instant, you had crossed the few feet to get to him, and threw a punch. 

You watched as he stumbled back, nearly running into one of his nameless friends, as he clutched at his face. He was clearly seeing red.

"How dare you!" he shouted out. He started to make his way over to you, obscenities of all sorts falling from his mouth.

None of which you really heard, because at that exact moment, Sasha and Connie both shouted the same thing, 'Run,' and took off. 

And, before you knew it, Jean grabbed your hand, pulling you along as he chased after the two, until you four were sure that Floch and his extras weren't going to follow you. 

When you finally stopped, everyone was bent over, stuck in between laughing and gasping for air. 

"Holy shit! That was insane!" Sasha wheezed out, and straightened out, turning to the group with a large smile on her face.

Connie spoke next, hands still on his knees. "I can't believe we ran away." 

All at once, realization hit you: you had just clocked a guy, and then ran away, without even thinking twice. Never in your life had you done something like that. You weren't super confrontational, and you certainly would rather avoid physical altercations. But, at that moment, you had just done it. And, the crazy thing about it was how amusing you found it. Because even though you were struggling to breathe, you were laughing. The kind of laugh where you couldn't stop, and your eyes would start to tear up. 

From where he was standing at your side, Jean watched for a moment, a certain fluttering in his chest (though he could pass it off as his own endeavors with taking in air). You, for the first time that he had seen, were so laid back about the fact that you had hit someone. And the way that you were now chuckling to yourself, clearly in a sort of disbelief mixed with content. 

Jean drew your attention, "Is it bad that I kind of liked seeing you hit him?" Then he paused, as if he had rethought his choice of words. "I mean, in the sense that Floch is a stuck up, entitled bastard, and that he had it coming." 

You gave a little huff, and shrugged. "Well, I'm sure anyone would pay to see that…I honestly didn't know that I was going to hit him…until right after." 

"Well, that was amazing! That guy's been a tyrant since the beginning of the year! He even tries to get in with Eren's group, as if he was even worth being someone to talk to." Connie clapped a hand on your back, his adrenaline still running through him. 

"And I thought that Jean was the one to start fights," Sasha teased.

"Sasha! I don't start fights!" 

Around you, the three continued to talk while you watched, enjoying the sight.  

It was rather nice, for once. You weren't holed up in your dorm room while everyone else had fun, even if the fun was getting into a fight of sorts—which, as you thought back on it, the whole thing was kind of funny. It would have easily been solved if those assholes had just apologized, but you were starting to think that this outcome was better. 

“Hey, should we go back for our things?” Jean asked, pulling your attention to him.

“Yeah, probably, and if those assholes are still there, I think we know someone who can take them on for us.” Connie sent a lopsided grin your way, a certain mischievous look in his eyes.

You shrugged, acting as innocent as possible. “Oh yeah, you’d be the perfect guy for that, even with the serious height disadvantage.” 

Connie’s mouth dropped open, not quite expecting that kind of remark from you. As far as he knew, you were silent, hardworking, and the person who likes to keep to yourself. Even you were a little surprised, but, maybe after today’s events you could try out some new ways to enjoy your life a little more.

Once again, the four of you made your way back to the field, and as you did, you could see a familiar figure standing by your net, looking down at his phone. 

“Marco! You made it!” Connie shouted out, drawing your friend’s attention. “You missed all the action; it was insane!”

“Huh? Did I miss out on playing? And where were you guys?” 

As you approached, Sasha and Connie exploded into answers for his question. 

“You only missed a little of our game-”

“We had to run from Forrester and his braindead lackeys!”

“We’ve got our own Rocky! You should have seen the way they punched him! No hesitation at all!”

Slowly, Marco seemed to piece all of the information together, nodding as he thought it all over. His eyes looked at everyone one by one until he got to you. “You punched someone? The most I've ever seen from you was the time you swore at your computer when it crashed!”

A small and almost shy smile escaped you, “Well, to be fair he started it. I honestly didn’t even think about doing it; my hand moved on it’s own,”

He only shook his head, looking back around the group. “So, are we still playing?”

Jean shook his head. “Maybe we should head back to one of the dorms? Relax or play some games?”

“Oh! I’ve got some fun games!” Sasha chimed in, then paused. “But I’m kind of hungry, so maybe we could make some food, too!”

Once everyone agreed to the plan, the now five of you ended up in the dorm you shared with Marco and Sasha, where Connie, Sasha and Marco focused on setting up some games in the little living room area, and you and Jean were tasked with making some dinner. Of course, it wasn’t exactly easy, given the few options, but eventually, the two of you were able to settle on a college delicacy: instant ramen. 

You pulled out a pot to fill with water, while Jean opened a few packs of said ramen. All in all, it was easy to make, and didn’t take terribly long. Before you knew it, you were handing out bowls to the other three while Jean brought over yours and his to where you were now sitting on the floor, some game cards in front of you. 

“Okay, listen up, I’m not explaining this twice,” Connie announced. “The game is simple: read a card to yourself and then say someones name who you think matches the card. You flip a coin. If it’s heads, you tell everyone what was on the card and give that person the card. If it’s tails, you keep it to yourself, and the card is yours.” Connie gave everyone a pointed look, and when no questions or objections were raised, the game started.

The first to go is Marco; he took a moment to read his card before immediately calling out Connie’s name. Then when the coin was flipped, it landed on heads, earning a small sigh from Marco. 

“It asked who would be the one to need parental supervision no matter what age someone is,” Marco explained.

“What? Why not Sasha?! She gets into more trouble than I do!” 

“Hah! Say that to Professor Levi and all the times he has had to tell you to shut up,” Jean remarked “And not to mention you black out at every party you go to. Do you know how many times I have to carry you home while you sing at the top of your lungs?”

Connie grumbled a bit, but didn’t try to deny the claims. Instead, he pulled out a card to read. His turn ended with a flip of tails, making it now your turn. 

From the main deck, you pulled your card and read it over silently: ‘Out of everyone in the group, who would you rather make out with?��

You can feel your face heat up, already knowing that you only really have two options, Jean or Marco. And Marco is only really a choice because of how well you know him, but even then, you wouldn’t really want to do that with him. So after a few moments of silence, you call Jean’s name, looking anywhere but at his face. 

“That took you some time; must be a good card.” Sasha grinned, reaching for the coin and giving it an impressive flip. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as it landed, and all at once, five heads stuck together to see the outcome.

Heads. The worst possible way for things to go. You could feel all eyes on you now, and you begrudgingly read out the card, once again avoiding looking at Jean entirely. 

A chorus of ooo’s and ahh’s filled your ears, and everyone had something to say about your answer. 

The only one you even managed to hear was the man himself: “I hope you plan to take me out first, I’m not won over so easily." Of course, he had a cocky smirk on his face, pointed directly at you. 

“Whatever, just…whoever is next, take your turn.” You shook your head, busying yourself with eating some of your food that was now starting to get a little cold. 

Time seemed to escape you all and the night drew to a close with Connie and Jean taking their leave. Marco took the time to wash the dishes, roping Sasha into helping, and you retired to your room. You took the time to change into some comfier clothes and settle into your bed, though not quite wanting to sleep just yet. 

Your mind was still stuck on the first game you played and the card you had picked Jean for. While you wouldn’t argue against the idea of finding Jean attractive, or even the idea of kissing him, you just weren’t sure why you were so trapped in thinking about it. You didn’t even know him all that well, and for the most part, you had thought that he was pretty unbearable. 

And yet, the more your thoughts seemed to revolve around him, the more you could feel an uneasy knot forming in your stomach. There was no way that you were going to let yourself get wrapped up in developing feelings for him, or anyone. You were supposed to be focusing on school so that you could get the hell out of this town and make something of yourself.

Not to mention the fact that all of your previous attempts at relationships crashed and burned. The last time that you had gotten close with someone in that way, you ended up with a mixture of being heartbroken and incredibly angry. That was about the time you started keeping to yourself, as if getting to know someone in a more than platonic way would cause your world to shatter again. You couldn’t-no /wouldn’t/ deal with something like that again. 

You let out a groan, planting face first into your pillow and trying to shoo away all thoughts related to romance and feelings, and of Jean Kirstein. 

“Suffocating yourself?” 

You jumped lightly, head snapping up to see Marco in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. His expression was a little hard to read, though he could be like that at times. 

“Uh…no, not quite what I’m going for, but if it gets the job done, then sure,” you joked.

He moved across the room to his own bed where he took a seat, facing you. “Then what’s with the face-in-pillow tactic?”

You hesitated, knowing full and well how close Marco was with Jean, closer than he was with you. “Oh, uh, just, school things, homework, assignments, that sort of thing…”

His eyes narrowed slightly, brows furrowing. “Yeah, for once I don’t buy that, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you to spill the details."

Again, you paused, turning away from Marco and looking towards the door. In truth, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, since he wouldn’t ever tell a secret that wasn’t his. He was definitely the guy who would just want to talk things out, not wanting things to end badly. 

“Okay…Well…that card I got earlier,” you began. “I’m just worried, and I know that it’s just a stupid game, but I cant help but think about it.”

“Worried that Jean took it the wrong way, or worried that you’d actually want to kiss him?”

Marco was somehow always hitting the nail on the head, a talent of his. 

“Would saying both make sense?”

He thought for a moment, the room filling with an unnamable silence, until he spoke again. “Well, I’m sure Jean is going to take it in the way he always does: an ego boost for his way too big head.” Another pause. “As for the idea of maybe wanting to kiss him, I wouldn’t say that's an all too terrible idea, besides the fact that it’s Jean. But, if you really aren't sure about how you feel towards him, maybe you could…test it out?"

“Test it out?” you repeated, confused.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Like ask him to hang out or something. You don’t have to necessarily make it like a date, but you could use the time to get to know him more, and figure out if it’s just because everyone made a big deal out of it, or if you might actually be interested in him, or getting to know him.”

You thought for a moment. The idea was pretty simple, and a good one at that, though just thinking about it made your heart rate speed up. It wasn’t like you had never been one on one with Jean, but now, with all of your thoughts being scrambled like eggs, it was slightly overwhelming. But when it came down to it, you wanted to sort it all out. If you could set your mind straight, and get rid of these terrible thoughts about Jean, you could get back on track for school.

“You’re right, I’ll definitely try that.” You let out a small breath of air and turned back to Marco. “Thanks, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What would you do without me? And don’t worry— I won’t say anything to anyone. my lips are sealed” He smiled, hand coming up to his mouth to mime a zipper motion.

“Okay, good. Unless you want to end up like the douche from earlier, I wouldn’t recommend telling a soul.” 

He gave a laugh before gathering some of his things to go and take a shower, leaving you alone once more. You eventually drifted off to sleep, and surprisingly, you didn’t wake up once.

The next day, you only had one class, and once that was over, you had gone to the library to study, needing to get work done for a few of your other classes. It was a nice change in pace from the day you had yesterday. It wasn’t super crowded, either, which meant you could focus on your work in peace. 

Though, it didn’t last long, as two new faces joined your table. You looked up, almost expecting to see Jean and Connie, or Marco and Sasha, but to your surprise, it was Eren and Armin. 

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you!” Armin smiles, though something in his eyes tells you that he didn’t pick your table without a reason. 

“Uh, no that’s okay.” 

He and Eren settled into two of the chairs, the latter of the two only pulling out his phone. Armin did the exact opposite. He took out two textbooks, a large notebook, and a handful of pens, pencils and markers. 

For the first five minutes or so, the three of you sat in silence. You worked on homework for a communications class, while armin was seemingly working on a paper for a psyche class. But when Eren suddenly scoffed at his phone, you stopped what you were doing to look up at him, questioning his action. 

He in turn looked at you, maybe even through you. “So, turns out, someone gave Forrester a nasty bruise yesterday. He wont say who, so i’m thinking he got his ass kicked and just doesn’t want to admit it.” 

You feigned ignorance, giving Eren a blank stare, “I’m not really sure who that is, but sounds like a tough time for him.”

Eren regarded you for a moment, but it wasn’t his stare that bothered you. You now had Armin’s attention, as if he wanted to ask a question. Or, make a comment on what you said. But instead he said, “Well, I’m not the one to really get into these things, but Floch does like to cause problems for himself, so maybe he deserved it?” 

You nodded along, not wanting to give Eren any more information. With him, rumors tended to get out of hand quickly, and you really did not want to be the talk of the school over an altercation with Floch. To everyone in the school, you were pretty much some nobody, and frankly, you weren’t upset at the idea. If it meant less trouble for you, it was going to be something you’d stay okay with.

“Well he’s been bitching about it all day. It’s starting to get on my nerves.” Eren flipped his phone over, leaning back in his chair as he did. 

“Does he expect you to do something about it?” You asked, still trying to keep a low profile, while also trying to pry more information out of him.

“I’m sure thats what he wants, but I’m not going to help him with that, Floch can fight his own battles.”

A thick silence descended over your table. You took it as a sign that you could continue working on your homework. The one for your comms class wasn’t due until tomorrow, but you really wanted to finish it. 

This had always really been how you did things. You tried to finish things early, study as soon as possible, take as much time to get your work done as possible. And you weren’t the only one. Armin had also gone back to his work, and though you weren’t sure when it was due for him, but it wouldn’t be surprising if it was due at the end of the week or so.

You weren’t all that close with Armin, but the two of you had taken the time to study with eachother for the one class that you did share, and you had even reached out once to ask if he would tutor you for a few sessions, needing help with your math at the time. It was a nice thought to know that you weren’t the only student to stray from the eyes of their peers.

Though he had a harder time with it, being best friends with Eren and all. Not to mention he was also friends with Mikasa Ackerman, who was arguably the girl who drew most people’s attention. 

Before you knew it, two hours had passed, and you felt your phone buzz. You picked it up from the table, squinting your eyes at the bright screen. It was Jean.

“Hey, why are you with Armin, and that idiot.”

At this, you paused, looking around the library, not seeing Jean. 

“Where are you?” you replied.

After a minute or two, your phone buzzed again.

“Come and find me.” 

And that was it. He didn’t send any other messages, even after you sent him two more, questioning him again. You frowned, then looked to your things. You had been working for awhile, so getting up and moving might not be the worst thing. You proceeded to pack everything that you had pulled out earlier, and stood from your chair, looking to the other two.

“I think I’m going to head out. Let’s meet up again later in the week to work on Professor Hange’s assignment.”

Armin glanced up, and smiled, “Okay! How about Thursday? I can show you what all I’ve finished!”

“Sounds good.” You gave a short wave, and turned away from the table, scanning the surrounding areas before setting off in a random direction. 

There were a few more tables behind some of the bookshelves, but none of the students sitting at them were Jean. You checked out the library’s computer section next, and kept looking until you ended up near Armin and Eren again. Another frown crossed your face, until you heard a muffled laugh. 

With the new hint, you looked upwards to the second floor. And there he was, leaning against the railing, smirking down at you. You felt your face heat up in what you were going to call embarrassment, and definitely not any other word that had to do with your complicated thoughts on him, and how from where you stood, he looked almost handsome. 

You sent a halfhearted glare his way and headed up the stairs, making your way over to him, about to comment on his antics, but you weren’t able to get a word out before he could make fun of you. 

“You looked really dumb running around trying to find me.”

You gave an astonished laugh, “Yeah, well you sounded like a complete stalker just now.”

“And you still came to find me. I’m starting to think you like me more than you let on.” 

The unsettling feeling returned to your stomach at his words, though you weren’t surprised that he was poking fun at you after yesterdays game. “In your dreams.” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ease the increasing amount of uneasiness that was slowly taking ahold of you. 

“Hm, I guess that’s true. Does that mean you want me to dream about it?” He looked at you contently, despite all of what he said being the brashest thing you had heard from him yet.

You didn’t say anything to that, instead you changed the subject quickly. “To answer your question about who I was with, I actually didn’t plan on sitting with them. Armin and Eren joined me.”

He gave a slow nod, and peered back at the table down below, where the two were still sitting, “Do you think I could spit on Eren from here?”

“No, and I dont think you should even try.” 

“Buzzkill.”

You scoffed, “I am not a buzzkill. You are just in the middle of some pointless battle of being better than each other.”

Jean looked back to you, staring at you for a moment. Then back down at Eren. “I just don’t get what everyone sees in that guy. He’s clearly an egotistical bastard with no regards to anyone else.”

“Do you think that you guys have anything in common in the fact that you both have ridiculously large egos?”

“Don’t lump me in with him.” This he said more seriously, “Anyways, enough about him, do you want to go do something?”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, and started for the stairs. You followed him wordlessly, and the two of you left the library, now back outside where a light breeze met you. The silence continued to hang over you two as you walked aimlessly in a random direction. You couldn’t tell if he was still thinking about your comment on him and Eren, or something else completely. You decided against asking him about it, and instead found a different topic. 

“Hey so, I found this art exhibit at the museum, it’s about the book Hange assigned us. I was thinking that we could go and check it out and see if we can find anything useful?”

He thought for a moment, eyes wandering the path ahead. “Okay, it doesn’t sound like the worst way to spend an afternoon.”

“Would eleven in the morning on Friday or Saturday be okay?”

“Friday works better for me, I think I’ve got plans with Connie on Satuday.” 

“Okay, Friday it is.” You paused, a smile slowly making it’s way onto your face, “Just make sure to be on time. I wont wait for you this time.”

“Hey! I already apologized for that.” He stopped in place, giving you a pointed look.

You stopped a few feet in front of him, shrugging as you continued to speak, “I need to cover all the bases. I am not going to wait around for you, just for you to tell me that you were hungover.”

“I am not going to be hungover again. I’m not going to make you wait, I swear.”

“You better not, I won’t be as forgiving this time.” You go to move past him, elbowing him as you do. 

He turns on his heel to catch up with you, giving you a slight push at the same time, “You were hardly forgiving last time. You were mad the entire time we were working on the assignment,” Jean pauses, taking a moment to look at the path that you had set off on, “Wait, where are we even going?”

You glanced over to him, then back infront of you. “Well, I’ve done nothing but school work today, and you didn’t mention anything specific other than ‘go do something’ and last time you picked where we went, so now its my turn.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are heading at least?”

“No.” You smiled a little at the statement, remembering how you had done the same thing to him when he had asked about you caring so much about seeing the stars. Looking back over to Jean, who was staring straight ahead, you took a moment to really look at him.

He was pretty tall, and when he wasn’t smiling like some sort of evil bastard, he had a pretty nasty resting bitch face, a combination that probably scared anyone who didn’t know him. Though, you could say that despite all that, he had a few attractive features to him. When he was smiling, actually smiling that is, his eyes lit up. You hadn’t noticed it much before, but now when you thought back on the past few days of being around him, you could see the way his eyes would hold a certain softness.  And when he was thinking, he tended to frown, scrunching up his nose until he came to whatever conclusion he needed. And when the two of you were in the field the other evening, he had an almost blissful aura to him, as if he had no cares in the world, you wouldn't ever guess that he was someone who caused so much trouble. Honestly it was probably a good thing that he had a difficult personality. If his ego was bad now, you don't want to know what he'd be like if he knew all of this about himself.

You looked away before he could catch you staring, and before you gave yourself any more time to think about him, not wanting to let yourself actually fall for the guy. 

Instead you focused on finding your way to today's randomized destination. If you were being honest, you hadn't actually thought of somewhere to go, and frankly, with how little you actually went out, you didn't know too many spots around campus. Regardless, you continued to lead the way, until an idea formed in your head. 

Earlier in the year, you had gotten a tad bit lost while trying to find a class, and ended up on the edge of your campus, where you stumbled on an old tree. Aside from the size of the thing, it seemed completely normal. But when you had looked further at it, there was something of a hidey hole in its backside. Since discovering it, you had made countless trips to the tree, using it as a place to get away from the school. You definitely weren't the first person to discover it, but it seemed like no one else ever really visited the old thing. 

As you and Jean came upon the tree, he gave a low whistle, craning his head back to take in it's height, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you just took me to a make out spot," 

You threw a bewildered look at him, before shaking your head slowly, "Well, since you do know better, you should know that it's more likely that I've brought you to the best place on campus to hide a body."

He in turn shook his own head, "And here I thought we we're getting closer," 

"Closer to hiding your body?"

"Not quite what I was thinking…" he trailed off, taking a moment to circle around the tree, his hand trailing along the bark as he went, "so, what made you pick here? Other than premeditated murder."

As he came back around, you watched as he took the time to drop his bag at the ground by his feet, kneeling down next to it for a moment, searching its contents. 

"Hm, I'm not entirely sure. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who ever comes here anymore." You pause, eyeballing what Jean was now holding in his hands, "It's kind of like a secret hideout minus the secret part, since anyone can stumble on this old tree." 

"And yet you brought me here…I'm starting to worry about my wellbeing," he chuckles, then takes a seat a few feet away from the tree. 

In his hands, he held a sketchbook. It looked a good few years old, as loose pages stuck out here and there, and the sheets were starting to yellow along the edges. You watched on quietly, as he flipped open to one of the last few pages, pausing as he glanced back at the tree. 

After a few moments you moved to stand just behind him, looking down at the page, which now held some sketch lines, resembling the tree just ahead of you.

You kept quiet for a bit, watching him quietly. He was lighthanded, it was as if any stray line within the whole piece would fly off the page and into the world around you. 

"You know you can sit and watch me draw too, right?"

"Yeah, and sit next to you? No thanks." You moved away from him, a slight flustered tone in your voice as you realized just how long you had been observing him. 

Instead, you took a seat at the base of the tree, opening your own bag, pulling out some more of your homework. Between the two of you, the only noises were the sounds of pencil on paper, and the occasional shifting of branches in the wind. 

You weren't really sure just how long things stayed that way. The only thing that brought your mind back to reality was the feeling of being stared at. 

"Need something?" You asked, arching a quizzical eyebrow in Jean's direction.

He shook his head, closing his sketchbook quietly, "Not at all. I was just wondering how much homework you were going to do before you got bored of being such a studious person." 

You scoffed at him. He was teasing you for this again? 

"Well, unlike some people, I need to pass all my classes so I can get the hell out of here." 

"You hate it here that much?" 

You paused, a lump forming in your throat. How were you even supposed to answer that question? All in all, this small town was horrible, and had been that way your entire life. Growing up you didn't have very many friends, and your family was fairly distant to you. You had shouldered all of your problems and responsibilities by yourself. Even now, in your college years it was hard to shake the feeling that you were still alone. 

You drew in a breath. "Sometimes, I sit by myself at my desk, and just stare at one of my notebooks until all the lines blur together. And then I realize that I'm crying. But what's funny about that is, I never know why I'm crying. " you start, bringing your eyes to his, "I never have the words to describe what i'm feeling in those moments. It's the same with how I feel about this place. I really don't know if I hate it, or if I'm just…projecting something else onto it." 

Jean stills with the information, until he takes a long breath in, "Art isn't much of a passion for me, as much as it is a hobby. I can't tell you how many half finished sketches I have. Sometimes I feel like I just don't have it in me to finish them, as if I'm scared of not knowing what I'm going to do next." 

He isn't talking about art. You know this from the way that Jean looks at you, not with pity, but with a hint of understanding. 

It was silent once again. Your brain turned over and over as you repeated his words in your head. Slowly, a wistful smile spread across your face. 

"You know Jean, you're not so bad after all." 

He stands up, shaking his head as he does, and makes his way over to you, holding out a hand for you to take, "I have my moments, I can't always be the charming asshole everyone says I am."

You hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to his hand. Slender fingers and a wide palm, his hand looked soft, and the thought of holding it, even just for a moment, would be comforting. You took his hand, averting your gaze as he helped you to your feet. 

"I'm sure everyone leaves out the 'charming' part."

"That's where you're wrong, everyone thinks I'm charming."

"Everyone but me that is," you chirp back, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"You dont think I'm charming?" 

The churning sensation is back. You /wanted/ to say no, to tell him that he was annoying, loud-mouthed, and a pain in the ass, but somewhere in the time you'd known him, he had become annoyingly endearing, loudly funny, and a pain in the ass to ignore the thumping in your chest. 

"I can't say charming is the word I'd use to describe you. Horribly pleasant maybe, but not charming."

At this he smirks, starting to walk backwards away from you, "Oh so you think I'm pleasant? Hopefully in the way that I'm nice to look at." 

"You missed the word horrible," 

He waved off your comment, instead placing one hand on his chest, right over his heart, while reaching out the other hand towards you, "and yet, if I asked you to join me to a delicious five star dinner at my dorm, you'd still say yes." 

You could feel your face flush, knowing that he didn't mean anything more than just to hang out for a little bit longer, and not in some sort of lame date way, "I'd only come because it would be free food, even if the food is terrible. Like you." 

"So, that's a yes you'll be joining me for dinner? I've got…box mashed potatoes, frozen broccoli, and hopefully leftover seasoned chicken." 

You turned back to where you had left your things, a slightly messy sight. "Alright alright, I'll come, pick up your things and we can go." 

You knelt down next to your bag, trying to ignore the nervous shaking of your hands as you collected your things. Your mind raced with warring thoughts. How did this happen? How was it that Jean Kirstein of all people, had weaseled his way into being someone that you didn't fully hate? But, there was no way you were going to let him get in the way of school, and your plans to finally be free from this horrible town. But then part of you wondered, was it all one sided? Jean seemed to be the type to have all sorts of girls and guys fawning over him, even if he had only ever been open about one specific girl that he was interested in, which of course had been Mikasa. But you couldn't even blame him, she was out of everyone's league. How she seemed to be completely and obviously in love with Eren Jeager of all people was a mystery to you. 

"Hey, are you listening?" His voice stopped your thoughts in their tracks, as you hadn't even noticed that he had been speaking to you. 

"Now why would I be doing that?" You shouldered your bag, standing back up and facing him.

"We've been over this, because I'm charming- sorry, pleasant." 

"Again, you left out the horrible part." 

"I've got a feeling that you don't mean that, otherwise you'd just call me horrible." He turns halfway away from you, looking back to the general area of the school. 

You paused, walking up next to him, trying to ignore the fact that he was right, "You just have selective hearing." 

Jean eyed you while starting to head back to the dorms, a different and softer smile making its way onto his face, "Not when it comes to you." 

You nearly tripped over a stray rock, his words repeating in cycles in your head. You could only give him a glance, busying yourself with avoiding any other stones on the sidewalk. 

What did he mean by that? What did you want those words to mean? Your mind flashes back to your conversation with Marco. The feeling of your heart painfully pounding against your ribs surfaces. Your hands tremble ever so slightly while they grasp at the straps of your bag. Marco was right, and he hadn’t even said anything about you actually having feelings for Jean. 

As the thought hit, you spared another quick look towards him. He was looking at you. Careful eyes studying your demeanor. The way you walked. The way your eyes struggled to meet his. The way your mouth formed a tight line as you realized all of this was happening.

“Hey, if you really don’t want to try my cooking, you don’t have to come.” He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair for a moment. 

You looked away. You could turn him down, you could go home. It would be the easy way out. You could ignore any of his future attempts at hanging out. You could finish school and leave this place. Leave him and everyone else again. 

The thought of it made you shudder. In doing so, you would be condemning yourself to your worst self. Being alone. 

You looked back to Jean, his face morphed into one of concern, clearly puzzled as to why you were taking so long to answer. 

You were tired of being alone. Tired of pushing away your own happiness in pursuit of a future that wasn’t even set in stone. 

You flashed a smile his way, and waved off his words, “No way, you said it was a five star dinner. I can’t pass on that.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then, his confusion melted away, replaced by that famous cocky smile, “Okay good, I wasn’t sure what to do if you bailed on me.”

“Maybe you could have cooked for Connie too, light some candles, play some mood music, you know, make it all romantic for the two of you.” You chuckled, about to make another remark when Jean gave you a playful shove. 

“Why would you say that! I can’t have a romantic dinner with Connie of all people!” 

“Sure you can! It’s easy! Candles, music, food! All you need!” 

Jean groaned and shook his head. “You’re horrible.”

“Pleasant, actually.” You grinned. 

He hummed in response, and you could’ve swore you heard him mumble ‘horribly pleasant my ass’

His dorm room was warm, and set up similarly to yours. The same bland, small kitchen and the same questionable excuse for a couch just a few feet away. Three sets of doors that led to his roommates, and two bathrooms. 

One of the doors were open, and you caught a glimpse of Connie attempting to take mirror selfies. He would take one, bring the phone close to his face, frown and then try again. It wasn’t until his third or forth picture that he noticed you staring through the mirror. 

“Well if it isn’t our very own Rocky!” He grinned, hastily shoving his phone into the pocket of his sweats. 

“Hey Connie” you waved, then smirked a little, “I'm sure the ladies will love all of those selfies.” 

His face flushed slightly, and he stepped out of his small room, “For your information, the ladies already love seeing my handsome face. I was just taking a few more for-”

Jean cut him off, a bark of a laugh filling the room, “Like you can get a girl to think your ugly mug is anything worth looking at.” 

Connie gaped, “Dude, that’s just cold. I thought you liked my face.” 

You eyeballed the two, before turning to Jean and mouthing the words, ‘romantic dinner’ 

Jean glared halfheartedly, before a smile broke through, “and here I thought I was treating you to a five star, romantic dinner.” 

Connie was now the one looking between the two of you, unsure if Jean was being serious or not. You, on the other hand, could feel your face heat up. He had to be joking. Jean was making a joke based off of your joke. That was the only thing that would make sense at the moment. 

“Only if it involves candles and music.” You attempt to force your voice into sounding level, as if you weren’t sickeningly thrilled by the idea of your dinner with Jean being a little more than friendly. 

His head swivels around the room, scanning the small area before emitting a sigh of halfhearted defeat, “Might need a raincheck on that, I don't have any candles.” Jean pauses, thinking for a moment, “Unless you had your heart set on the romantic dinner with candles and music, maybe I can make something work.” He smirked in your direction, true to his usual cheeky self. 

You faced away from him, moving to set your backpack down on the floor by the door, “No candles, no deal.” You pause, practically feeling Connie’s wide eyed stare pointed at your back. 

“That’s not a no to having a more than friendly dinner, now is it?” Jean fires back, smiling in a not so innocent way. Your stomach twisted in knots. He wasn’t wrong. You had intentionally avoided his question, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of yet another person falling for his aggravating charm. 

You shrug a response, giving back another flippant response, “Sure, if it helps you sleep at night to think of it that way.” 

After a moment of silence, Connie’s voice fills the room. “Yeah so, I don’t really know whats going on here, but i’m gonna head out. Sasha is waiting for me with Marco.” He slides on a pair of shoes, grabs a bag and promptly leaves, but not before saying a goodbye, “See ya later Rocky, and Jean, I hope you choke on your food.”

To which, all Jean says is, “Yeah, whatever man.”

You watch him leave quietly, then turn back to face Jean, studying him for a moment. He hasn’t noticed your stares yet,  not when he’s busying himself with pulling out what he needed for this dinner supposedly high rated by Michelin themselves. 

Throughout the past year or so, you had noticed that when Jean was concentrating, he tended to screw up his face a little, eyebrows scrunched in, mouth quirked off to the side, usually whatever was in his hands was being toyed with. But right now, he was different. A content soft smile, and the look in his eyes was gentle. Fond. Domestic. 

“Do you need help with anything?” You asked, feeling the need to do something other than just stand around. 

Jean looked back up at you, bag of frozen broccoli in his hands. “Do you want to make the instant potatoes or the broccoli?” 

You walked to him, and grabbed the bag from him, “Where do you keep your pots and pans?”

“Planning on making this a fancy dinner?” He paused, taking a moment to grab out a small pot for you, and then a lid. “Are you steaming them?”

You set the bag down, then eyed the pot and lid, “Would you happen to have one of those steaming baskets? Or do I need to get creative?”

Jean smiled sheepishly, “I’ve got Connie for a roommate. If I was Niccolo I would definitely have one of those, therefore, you’ll have to get creative. But you’re pretty smart, so I believe in you.”

You nodded slowly. That made sense. Jean and Connie were in the same boat as Sasha, Marco and yourself. If you had done more planning for dinner you probably could have worked something else with Niccolo to borrow his cooking supplies. Though you were sure that the guy would say no, as he was pretty particular about his things. Oh well. You’d have to figure something else. 

The rest of the preparations went fine, and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting at a dingy table that each dorm room had, making small talk over left over chicken and mid-tier potatoes and broccoli. 

“Okay, so I’ll  bite. What’s your deal?” Jean asked suddenly, then his eyes went a little wide as he realized the wording of his question, “I mean! Uh…Well-”

You cut him off, easily able to tell what he meant, “Do you mean why do I have no life and only study and do my work alone?”

He melted under your gaze, before nodding slowly, “I meant it a little nicer though.”

“Its okay, I got what you meant…I think.” You set your fork down, suddenly scrutinizing a small crack in your plate. 

Jean cleared his throat a bit before speaking again, “It’s just that…you spend so much time studying, and it definitely pays off. I’ve heard from Sasha that you have really good grades. But…”

“But?”

“They worry about you. Sasha and Marco that is…and well, I kind of do too. At least, more now that I know you a little better.”

You don’t respond. He’s going somewhere with this. You can tell by the cadence of his voice, how he seems to be picking his words carefully.

“I think that even just in the past few days, you’ve opened  up a lot…I finally got to see you smile.” He paused, “I remember one time last year, in one of our shared classes, I went to see the professor, but you were already there, pleading with him for some extra credit. And when you came out, you look like you had been crying. The next day, I went out of my way to tell you a joke, hoping that maybe you’d smile.”

“I remember that. I told you that I was busy with a make up assignment and ignored you.” You hummed a little, thinking back to Jean back then. His hair was shorter, and he was even more obnoxious that he had been this year. It was one of the few times you had actually spoke to him at the time.

“So…I guess I was just wondering where all this pressure on you comes from?” He fidgets with something in his hands. Like when he’s focusing on his work. You’ve seen it countless times in the past, you just never thought about it until now.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to telling him a little bit about yourself, “I’ve lived here my whole life. And my whole life, I’ve basically been alone. Friends were hard to come by, especially after I decided that all I wanted to do was leave. So, with no one to hold me back, as long as I finish college strong, I can leave and go anywhere I want. I have to do this. Staying here is out of the question…” You trailed off, thinking about how you had never truly said these words out loud. 

“But?” He spoke softly, as if he could tell that you had been battling with yourself on what you truly wanted. He stared at you, not through you as most other people did. Your heart sped up. What were you supposed to say now? You had only started to question your aspirations because of him. And you absolutely would not be sharing that thought now. 

“But nothing. I meant what I said. I’m getting out of this hell and I’m not looking back. Ever.”  you spat the words out, a sudden low and hollow feeling settling in your stomach. What were you doing? A small voice in the back of your head answered that question for you. The same one that you let control most of your college days. You were wasting time, you had assignments to do and a degree to work towards. 

You moved to stand suddenly. “I have to go…I forgot that I’m supposed to meet with Armin tomorrow. I should really make sure that I’m ready to show him my part..and yours too.” You grabbed your backpack, and escaping out into the hall. 

You stood there quietly, chest moving up and down as you took in harsh breaths,  not entirely sure why you did all of that. With a shake of your head you made the journey back to your own dorm, not bothering to take off your shoes at the door like you normally did, instead you merely trudged into your room, tossing your bag onto the ground by your desk, and finding a seat on the edge of your bed. 

“Are you okay?” Your freckled friend spoke up, nearly giving you a heart attack in the process. You hadn’t even noticed that he was home.

You didn’t answer. Instead, tears began to fill your eyes. He was by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around you carefully. Muffled sobs wracked your body. With each one Marco only hugged you a little tighter. He let you cry until you were done. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” The words fell from your lips, and you couldn’t stop what came after them, “This whole time i’ve had one goal; to graduate with soaring grades, and to leave. Make as few friends as possible so that way I wouldn’t get distracted…and so that leaving would be easier.” 

“What changed then?” Marco asked, his voice soft and careful. You got the feeling that he already knew the answer.

“Jean. Jean crashed into my life and ruined my plans. I haven’t even really known him that long and suddenly I’m throwing away school just to hang out with him. I haven’t been studying the same way I used to, instead I’m playing volleyball with him, and he’s holding my hand as we run away. I’m sitting with him by that old tree and thinking about him instead of the words on my papers. I’m cooking with him and thinking about how muchI want to do it all again.” Your words are quiet, but Marco hears them all the same.

“You do know that those don’t have to be bad things, right?” He lets you go, taking a moment to scoot away ever so slightly, making you look up at his face, where a small smile rests, “It’s been nice to see you let loose. And I know that you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

You attempt to frown, “Thats not true.” 

A beat passes and you speak again, “Okay. Maybe a little…but I-”

“No. No buts. You are the hardest working person I know. You are smart and you always apply yourself to your work. You are doing amazing. It’s time that you see that for yourself. You will finish school, and you will be able to go out into the world and do whatever you want to do, but that doesn’t mean you have to wait to have any of that fun. You deserve to enjoy your life, the one right now in the present that you are living, okay?”

His words played on repeat in your mind a few times, you tried to interalize them, make them into your own instead of letting that voice shoo them away. 

“Okay.” You nodded, then brought a hand up to your face, covering your mouth for a moment, “I left Jean.”

“What?”

“We were eating dinner and talking and then I got upset and I just…I just left. “

Marco pursed his lips, nodding slightly as he tried to imagine the scene. Jean sitting alone at his table, probably confused and wondering what he did wrong. “Well…theres only so much you can do about that, which I suggest texting him. Let him know that you’re alright, and just so that the poor guy doesn’t overthink, that he didn’t cause you to run off.”

You nodded, “Right. Okay. I can do that.”

It grew quiet between you and Marco, though it didn’t last very long. There was a light tone in his voice, one he used when he wanted to tease someone without making them aware of it, though you had learned to recognize it fairly well. 

“So, I’m assuming that you like Jean…at least a little bit.”

“Okay. Get off my bed. This moment is over.” You push him gently, facing away from Marco. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Oh would you look at the time? I should really head to bed, okay goodnight Marco, get off my bed.”

He laughed, and did as you said, letting you have the room so you could change, “goodnight lovebird.”

Ignoring him as best as you could, you changed quickly, and crawled right back into your bed, under the safety of your comforter.  Once there, you pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you brought up the chat with Jean.

You stared at it for a moment. The last messages were from earlier this day. He hadn’t said anything since then. 

Slowly you typed out an apology. “Hey Jean, I’m really sorry for just bailing earlier. Super not cool of me.”

You groaned at the words, quickly backspacing and starting again. “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to just leave you there. I promise things are fine. It wasn’t you, or the food for that matter.” 

You hit send, not giving yourself time to overthink the text any longer. 

Fairly quick after your message had been sent, Jean had already replied. “Its okay! You had me worried for a minute there. Thought maybe the food tasted so bad that you just had to leave to get an actual five star dinner.”

He was being courteous. Trying to keep the conversation light as to not scare you off again. 

Your fingers flew across the keyboard once more, “Let me make it up to you. Friday, 11am, at the museum.”

“You really don’t have to make anything up to me, I get it.”

“Jean. Just let me feel bad and try to make it up. Or else I will think about this all night.”

His next message wasn’t exactly what you thought he’d say…or actually, it was exactly what he would say, “Oh, so if I don’t let you have your way, you will be up all night…thinking about me?”

“No.” You hit send. Then sent another message, “Ykw nevermind. I’m not sorry. Be on time friday or else.”

He was quick to shoot back another response, “Okay fine. Make it up to me.”

Then another message, “How do you plan on doing that anyways?”

“You’ll see. Be patient.”

It wasn’t long after that did you eventually fall asleep. The next day was pretty uneventful. Your meeting with Armin was fine, as the guy already had about half of the presentation outline done, and with all of the information and other necessary work that you had gathered, Armin would most likely have the whole thing done by the time he went to bed that night. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, almost too quickly for your liking. Before you knew it, your alarm was going off, signalling that it was ten twenty-five in the morning. 

You had spent some time the day before thinking of how to make up for ditching Jean the other night, and finally settled on an idea. Said idea was currently sitting on your desk, inside a plastic bag. 

You gave it a quick look before climbing out of your bed, moving to your dresser to get ready for the day. 

You had just thrown on your shoes, sparing a glance at your phone to the time. It was eleven. You were going to be late. Of course after all that talk to Jean about being on time, you were going to be running behind this time. You could only imagine what he would have to say about it.

You hurriedly grabbed the bag from your desk, and shoved your phone into you pocket after sending yet another apology to Jean. 

The trip to the museum took about twenty minutes with public transport. It was eleven twenty-three and you had finally made it to the museum doors. 

Jean was standing just to the right of them, staring down at his phone, his back to you. You watched as he brought his phone to his ear, and smiled slightly as your phone buzzed in your pocket. 

You let it ring. Walking up and tapping his shoulder a few times. “Sorry I’m late.”

He spun around, eyes landing on your form. His mouth hung up for a moment before he hung up the phone call, “Is this to get back at me for the other day?”

“No…I just slept past my first alarm.”

“Oh so when you’re late its okay but when I’m late its the worst thing ever.”

You shrugged slightly, “I at least texted you in advance.” You paused, then remembered the bag you were holding, “Oh…um. I got you this. To make up for bailing.”

He eyed the bag suspiciously, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I worried about it. Now just say thanks and take the bag from me.” You rushed the words out, holding it out to him, “No refunds so you have to keep it.”

His fingers deftly took the plastic handles from you, and reached inside the bag. You watched quietly as he lifted the gift out, eyes softening as he realized what it was. 

“You bought me a new sketchbook?” He hummed a little, looking at the cover for a few moments, “This is a really nice brand too. I’ve always wanted to try it out.”

“Your other one looked a little full the other day…so I figured I could afford a nice one to say that I’m sorry. “

Jean let the sketchbook slide back into the bag, “Well…thank you. I really appreciate this.” He toed something on the ground, eyes unable to find yours. 

You instead took this moment to find the exhibit tickets on your phone, nudging him slightly, “Let’s get going, there’s a couple of pieces I think we should look at specifically.”

Once inside, you took a few moments to study the map of the place, trying to figure out which hall you needed to go to, before Jean took your hand in his, face a little flushed as he did so. 

“I come here pretty often, most of the new exhibits are near the back on the first floor.” He said, pulling you along with him. 

It wasn’t too crowded, and as most museums were, it was quiet. A nice solitude for those who liked to hide away from the world, and find new ones in the art and historical pieces sheltered there.

When the both of you made it to the exhibit, you found that you were the only ones there. Meaning that you could stare at the art as long as you needed. Which you did. Slowly you let Jean’s hand slip from yours.

You hadn’t thought about seeing the art in real life, and how much it would effect you. Entrap you in every single paint stroke, every single carving of marble. It was beautiful. Clearly the story that was assigned to you had meant a lot the various artists. 

You found Jean staring at a drawing. It was mostly in charcoal, though some color had been added here and there, giving the piece whimsical dimension. It looked to be a tree. A large, barren tree in a valley of never ending sand. From the branches, blue and green spilled out across the paper, spanning what would be the sky. 

“You like this one?” You asked with a hush, not wanting to startle him. 

He nodded, “It’s simple, but I just know that the artist put a lot of work into it. Every line is purposeful. And we will never truly know what it means.” He responded, eyes traveling down to the plaque, where it read the piece’s title, “Paths.” With an unnamed author. 

You let him look at the drawing for as long as he needed. You wandered to a sculpture on display a few steps to the right. It seemed to be one of the titans depicted in the story. Creme colored marble in the form of a woman, skeletal mouth open in what the book claimed to be a war cry. There were ribs formed around her abdomen. Her hand outstretched towards the open air. From this perspective, despite the lack of facial features, the statue almost looked sad. A women with an extraordinary ability, forced to use it for harm, all because she was in love with the wrong person. At least, that’s what you wanted to think.  You were sure that others in your class thought the opposite. Which of course was exactly what your analysis was going to focus on. 

You studied it for a few more moments, before looking away, finding Jean now standing across the room, in front of another painting. You moved to stand next to him, looking at what held his attention.

It was of a starry night sky, bathed in dark blues and purples. Underneath, was a lone pig in a field, head faced towards the grass. 

“This is what started the book, right?” You asked, watching as he nodded once.

“But that’s not what i’m thinking about.”

“Then what’s going on in your mind?”

Jean looked back to you, smiling sideways, “Why did you wait the other night, at the field? I figured that you were waiting for a star, but why?”

You brought your eyes back to the painting, looking from the dark green grass, to the pig that was grazing on it peacefully, then to a star painted to be the brightest one there. 

“When I was younger, I used to stand outside, or at my window, and just wait. As soon as I saw the first star of the night, I made a wish on it.” You paused, thinking back on your childhood, “I used to wish for a friend, or someone more than that. I was pretty lonely as a kid. Eventually I started wishing for a future other than that…and then, I stopped wishing. I still would wait for the star, but I made sure that I wasn’t relying on a ball of gas in the sky to make my wishes come true.”

“I’d say that they came true then.” Jean turned his body to face yours, looking down towards you, some thought dancing in his eyes.

You mimicked his motion, allowing yourself to face him fully, “And what makes you say that?”

“You’ve made two whole friends.” 

“I’ve made three.” You corrected him softly, thinking back to your first conversation about it with him, “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot.” You state matter of factly.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “And the third? Don’t tell me it’s Floch…or even worse, Eren.”

“Mmm close. It’s you.” 

He places a hand to his heart, dramatic words escaping him, “How long have I waited for you to realize that you and I are friends.”

“You’re still horribly pleasant.” You remark, shaking your head, “Maybe I should take it back about being friends.”

“Too late, you already said it. No refunds.” He drew closer to you, enough to where you could feel his warmth. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Isn’t that technically already a question?” You pause, then nod to him, “But, yeah, go for it.”

“When you graduate, and leave this town. Will you forget about your friends?”

You hesitate. You knew that he wasn’t really asking about Marco or Sasha. You can feel your stomach flip over a few times, that annoying feeling of nervousness that came whenever you thought about Jean.

“No. I wont. How could I?” Your words seem to have some sort of effect on Jean, as he dodesn’t speak. You continue, trying to pick your words carefully, “When it comes to you, specifically you…I would have one hell of a time forgetting you, Jean.”

“I am pretty cool…” He mumbles, then swallows his pride, “But, what if I don’t want you to remember me?” 

You tilt your head to the side, giving him a confused look, but still allowing him to continue.

“I just mean…what if I want to be remembered as not just a friend. As more than that?” 

He locks eyes with you, his face serious as he waits for you to say something, to say anything really. 

You swear that your heart stops beating altogether. It wasn’t one sided. You thought back to your conversation with Marco from two nights before. You deserved this. Deserved to enjoy yourself. To let yourself live a little. 

“I think i’d like that.” You smile warmly, “Because I like you Jean. I tried really hard not to, but I do. And maybe, just maybe I don’t want to look back on college and only remember you as a friend.” You pause, taking in a small breath and willed yourself to finish your thought, “Maybe, after I graduate, we both can look back on the time. Together.”

“So, you don’t want to skip town and never look back?” he asks

“Skip town? Still do, but I can’t afford to ignore my time here.” 

“What if I came with you when you leave.” it’s less of a question, and more of an idea.

“Let’s just get to graduation first, Jean.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, nodding as he does, “Got ahead of myself there. But I have one more question.”

You study him for a moment, just as you had been studying the rest of the art in the museum. “You know, you were only supposed to ask one question anyways.”

“Last one, I promise.” 

“Okay, okay, what is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re suddenly all too aware of the small gap in your bodies, and his baited breath, and the sensation in your stomach that feels less like churning water and more like butterflies floating around blooming flowers. You hardly hear yourself tell him yes. 

The stiffness leaves Jean’s body, and he brings his hand free from the plastic bag up to your face, cupping your cheek lightly. His hand is warm, but not as warm as your flushed face is. His thumb moves back and forth slightly as he pulls you to him. His lips are soft, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your cheek. You easily find it in you to move in sync with him, allowing yourself to lean into the kiss, a small smile finding its way onto your face. 

He lets you pull away first. And for a moment all the two of you can do is stand there. You’re sure that you could stand there all day with him. 

You let him speak first. 

“So, am I still horrible?”

“Horribly, yet pleasantly charming. Yes.”

#jean attack on titan #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot #aot fic #aot x reader #jean kirschtein #jean kirschtein fic

[eyelessfog]

When she sees him for the first time, she almost recognizes him, is the thing.

Well- she does recognize him. It's Ren, obviously, all brown hair and big ears and tail and his certain way of baring his teeth and he's the right height and shape and-

It's Ren, is the point. It is very obviously Ren.

It's just that Ren died quite early on, and Pearl has been alone for a long, long time.

She won, thanks to Scott's help, but she has scars from the second explosion, and the rest of her dogs died with him. The borders shot out, and she was left to explore.

And explore she did. She didn't want to see the remains of the Red Velvet Keep, or Box, or the Ranch, or the Relation, or the Mid-Century-Modern-whatever-the-hell, or Cleo and Scott's places.

She definitely didn't want to see her tower ever again.

Little houses she made on the way out were always cute little coves built into hills. Low to the ground. Safe and cozy.

Lonely.

She sees him in the morning, staring out from a cliff edge she built her newest little house by. He's close enough that she can see him clearly, but far enough that she doesn't try to call out. Her voice is hoarse from disuse. She hasn't talked to anyone in weeks.

Still, she starts the trek up to the top of the cliff where he was.

He's gone by the time she gets there, but that's okay. She's patient. She can be patient.

She sits, capelet wrapped around her shoulders like it'll do more than it really will, and waits.

She falls asleep at some point. Of course she does. She's exhausted. She's been exhausted for longer than she can remember.

She wakes up to a voice.

"The hell are ya doin' here, lassie?" Asks someone who is barely Ren in a voice that is barely Ren's.

Pearl blinks her eyes open and turns.

He's not the Ren she knows. Sunglasses on a snarling face, hair messy and sticky with blood, a crown of gold with spines that look sharp enough to stab, a cloak of grey fur, a scar displayed almost proudly around his neck, and claws sharper than Ren has ever had.

There's something wrong with him.

That's fine. There's something wrong with her too.

"Hi Ren," Pearl says.

Ren - or not - growls. "Who th' hell are you?"

Pearl leans alllll the way back, so that she's lying down and staring up at him. He curls forward to look at her in a way that is familiar- Ren always tried to keep himself low to the ground.

"I'm Pearl," Pearl says. "I'm the Scarlet Snow Witch." She accentuates the name with a giggle. It had always been too high pitched for the others to feel comfortable.

"Hm," Ren-or-not says. "I'm Ren Dog." He is Ren, then.

He smiles in a way that is more showing off his teeth- and they are sharp and bloodied and beautiful in a way that only her tired mind can appreciate.

"Ye may call me th' Red Winter King though."

"Wow...." Pearl gasps. "We're the same then, aren't we?"

The Red Winter King raises a brow. "Are we?"

Pearl reaches an arm up, and imagines touching his crown. She wonders if he would let her.

"Yeah. Red winter. You're talking about blood on the snow, aren't you? The only difference is that you're a king, and I'm a witch. But that's okay, isn't it? We're just a little different. Not too much. Not too similar either."

The Red Winter King makes a rumbling sound in his chest and kneels down so that her hand only barely avoids touching his face. She pulls her arm back.

"Nay," he says. "Th' Red Winter r'fers to me." He lowers his sunglasses, and Pearl can see his eyes now - bright red.

Third life red.

Pearl gasps. "You're red!"

The Red Winter King surveys her, then puts his glasses back on properly. "As are thou."

"I don't think that's how that word works."

The Red Winter King - but he looks more like Ren, here - sniffs. "The word works as I wish it to, lassie."

Pearl stares.

"You should join me," Pearl says suddenly. "I'm going on a big adventure, and I want you to join me. We'll be red together. A king and a witch."

Ren - because she can't look at him and see anyone but Ren - stares down at her. His lips curl into a smile slowly, slowly.

"A king and a witch. I think I can work wit' that." He offers a hand out to shake, and Pearl takes it, upside down.

#[written in stone] #red snow duo #rendog #renthedog #pearlescentmoon #UHHHHHH uh. #double life smp #dlsmp #third life smp #tlsmp

[moongothic]

In reference to this post; I was gonna reply in the comments but once again, it got too long, and I figured I might as well make a brief post about this because shit's interesting but the OG post was getting so long I didn't want to extend it any further. So. New post.

But I'm also going to make this a lowkey follow-up to this post, where I briefly talked about whether or not Crocodile is worthy of a redemption. Because I did have multiple people reply to it, mentioning they don't think Crocodile needs a redemption, which isn't wrong. Villian redemptions come down to personal preference (some people like them more than others generally speaking), and the specific circumstances of a character and the story they go through. (Personally, I am a fucking sucker for a good redemption story, and One Piece? Has how many redeemed villians? Kuma, Hatchan and Bon-chan? Perona too? Buggy and Mr 3 if we're generous??? I'm sure I'm forgetting someone, but the ratio is quite low is my point) The reason I want to bring that up again, is that depending on what Crocodile's trauma really boils down to (**since we don't know for sure what it is**), it could go against the very core messages of One Piece if he just dies without that trauma being resolved. And at the same time, if his trauma is what I think it is, then he can not heal from it without being redeemed. And the opposite is true as well, if his trauma isn't what I think it is, then he doesn't need to heal from it, and he doesn't need to be redeemed. I do have a whole separate post slow cooking in my drafts right now so I don't want to go too deep into that subject here and now. But the point is. If we want Crocodile to open up and be vunerable and heal from his shit, it means he's either getting a redemption arc or redemption in death. The latter is way fucking sadder, but again, a whole separate post.

BTW quick apology but I figured since there's a bunch of shit in this post that I've written about separately before, I might as well link to those posts for like context, so people can get where I'm coming from with my nonsense while keeping this post brief-ish

BUT ONTO THE ACTUAL SUBJECT As I have kind of mentioned before, I do think Crocodile probably has multiple layers of trauma going for him

We know losing to Whitebeard Did Things to his psyche for certain

I think it's very plausible he might've been betrayed by his former crew if he ever had one

I think it's likely Dragon didn't take too well to him transitioning

And between that and Crocodile already having tried to kill Luffy multiple times, he probably believes his son would never accept him as his other dad, especially since he already hates him.

(And I do think it's likely he might have some additional early childhood trauma based on how Oda writes these things normally but whatever that could be is an absolute mystery)

And if I'm right and those are (some of) the different layers of his trauma, then for Crocodile to open up and heal from it you'd need to do it step-by-step, layer by layer

I think Luffy accepting Crocodile would be the most important thing, above all else. Because if Crocodile loving and caring about his son is the only shred of humanity left in him, if Luffy is the only thing Crocodile cares about anymore while believing no one else will ever do so for him, then having that feeling returned is the key to getting Crocodile to just start to heal. If his son can't accept and forgive him then what would it matter what anyone else thinks? In my mind, Luffy is The Sledgehammer that can break Crocodile's walls.

But that's the first layer, the first step to getting Crocodile to become vunerable

If he does have that betrayal-based trauma, then I think finding people who would actually follow him and be loyal to him would help him heal on that front. And... This probably sounds strange, but I think Mihawk is the best candidate for it. Not just because he could be to Croc what Zoro is to Luffy (in many ways), and not just because of the Romancing SaGa 2 comparisons, but because Crocodile does already seem to respect Mihawk on some level. Like he specifically invited Mihawk to start Cross Guild with. IDK if they have like shared history before or if it's just because they're Fellow Former Warlords or simply because he knows Mihawk is strong and in a vunerable position (after losing his Shichibukai Rights) or what, but despite Crocodile saying he doesn't trust people, he seems to trust Mihawk enough to invite him. And he seems to respect Mihawk's opinions on things, like he might view themselves as equals. So if Mihawk, The Greatest Swordsman In The World of all people, genuinely expressed faith and loyalty to Crocodile... Yeah, I think that would do a lot for Croc. Especially if Mihawk found out about Crocodile's baggage and chose to follow him despite/because of it.

But if we want Crocodile to Heal ALL THE WAY. He and Dragon need to have a talk.

Which will not be easy, considdering like.

Look at that fucking expression on the panel on the right. Dragon is more than likely beyond furious with Crocodile over what he did in Alabasta. And for good reason. And frankly, I can't tell if they can ever come back from that.

(Sidenote, but this page these panels are from (from Chapter 1058) follows immidiately after the page where Buggy introduces Crocodile and Mihawk to Cross Guild, Dragon's placement on the bottom right of this page matching perfectly where Crocodile was placed in the previous page. So considdering what Dragon says and the expression he makes... Man, if there ever was a way for Oda to tell us what Dragon thinks of Crocodile without explicitly having him say it, yeah, this would be it)

And I'm sure that even if Crocodile got over whatever heartbreak might've happened between him and Dragon and just moved on... The fact that Dragon never called Crocodile and warned him about their son being a pirate, with a bounty, who might be on his way to the Grand Line, where he could stumble his way to Alabasta, where Crocodile was famous for his Pirate Crushing Heroics mind you... Yeah. Crocodile would have a perfectly understandable reason to be furious at Dragon too. He almost killed their son without knowing because Dragon never warned him, never told their son's name to him, never told his OWN full name to Crocodile.

So needless to say.

They have a lot of differences to overcome. Things they've done that they'd both need to look past, forgive and forget. Somehow. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'd find it damn near impossible to happen.

But can you imagine, if despite everything, Dragon still loved him? And was sorry about whatever the fuck happened 19 years ago? And didn't want to lose him again?

I think that would be the thing that would help Crocodile heal all the way in the end.

If Luffy is the first step, then Dragon is the last.

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Crocodad #Sir Crocodile #Either that or Mihawk and Crocodile actually get together #Honestly doubt Dragodile will happen because. I can not imagine Oda giving us a canon gay couple #I would literally not complain at all I would lose my god damn mind (in a good way) #I just think Crocodile has too many deathflags (If Crocodad Real). Like he's probably going to sacrifice himself protecting someone else #Probably Luffy. Maybe Dragon. He's probably gonna die is the point. #It's more likely he dies loved and forgiven than gets to live loved and forgiven #But like I said that's a whole different post I've been struggling to write for almost two weeks now lmao #Mainly because the sheer amount of deathflags make me so impossibly sad I don't wanna pick it up again jdhgkfg

[daily-hanamura]

Do you ever think about how Chie (and Yukiko iirc?) have both previously called Yosuke a disappointment, meaning they were, albeit in part, one of the reasons for his low self esteem

Obviously they didn't do it on purpose, since Yosuke always tries to act like those words don't phase him, always acting like he's very confident

But I wonder, if he were to ever open up to them and start showing his more sensitive side in general, how would the girls react? Like would they feel a bit guilty or something?

Many thoughts... many very, very disorganized thoughts......

Oooooh yeah I do indeed think about this, and apart from Chie and Yukiko, Teddie has also described Yosuke as a "prince of disappointment"/"everyone's favourite disappointment"

Yosuke, of course, also being the one that calls himself a disappointment the most.

So this is just my perspective based on my life experience, but I think that to some extent, it very much reflects the kind of humour that was very pervasive around that time. As a millennial it's pretty typical for friends to rib into each other as banter (see also Yosuke to Kanji) and to employ self-deprecation as a joke, and it's kind of a mark of friendship -- you really only do that to people that you're very close friends with, because it's about in-group jokes (e.g. Chie can call Yosuke a disappointment, but that random classmate can't) and a reflection of just how well you know a person.

It's kind of complicated to talk about because I'm not saying that it was necessarily good, since it can be quite insensitive if you're not conscious of someone's personal issues. And some people definitely don't enjoy that sort of humour, because it's also highly, highly contextual and easy to misread. Some bullies also use that as a justification for why they're saying mean things, which is especially unpleasant in the workplace LOL. I feel like as I've gotten older this has become less common? Or maybe I'm just not as comfortable with the friends I've made in adulthood to want to readily rip into them? But then again I have maybe three friends I'm willing to banter like this with and we've been close friends for about a decade, which I think kind of drives home the point I'm making about how this is the kind of joke you only make with people that you've been through a lot with, which the IT are. I think it's humour that's meaningful in the narrative context because it's a signpost that indicates their shared experience in the TV world was no trivial thing, just like how Yosuke calling Yu "aibou" reflects the same sentiment.

But, as you said, because of how Yosuke puts on an act of confidence, I don't think most people pick up on it other than Yu, because Chie, Yukiko and Teddie probably just think it's part of the bit that Yosuke is doing (Yosuke also refuses to show his weaknesses to anyone other than Yu, but that's probably another conversation). One of the weaker spots of P4/G (and P5), I feel, is that it isn't as revealing about the interpersonal relationships between characters outside of the protag character. Which I don't really expect, but it was really nice to see in P3. So all we have to go on is the spin offs, and I think if we compare Chie and Yukiko's distanced friendliness with Yosuke in the Magician manga vs their expression of reliance and dependence on Yosuke in P4AU, for example, we can see that developed dynamic.

Would they feel guilty? Probably, but they're also teenagers who are still figuring out interpersonal interactions and personal boundaries (and this goes for Yosuke as well), and I think this friction is sometimes just part and parcel of growing up. I do think that if Chie and Yukiko realise that Yosuke does have a sore spot about it they'd change the way they speak with him because they genuinely care about him, especially as they mature into adulthood.

Going a little off tangent now and this is just my headcanon, but I also wonder if Yosuke initiated that sort of humour with Chie and Yukiko shortly after their rescue to help them relax. Yosuke likes to use humour to diffuse tension (which doesn't always work) but it's not hard to imagine him sensing awkwardness from the two of them (they really weren't close friends at all prior to the TV world), so he makes himself the butt of a joke to get them to laugh, and when they latch on to it he's actually kind of happy because it means he's done something useful. (ngl ever since I saw Tamami's clown motif stage in p4d I have not stopped thinking about her parallels with Yosuke)

#asks #12neonlit-stage #sorry for the very late and very long response LOL this has been marinating in my brain for weeks #and then I had to deal with deadlines and phew

[pearldog30]

The guys reacting to a period simulator

Ghost, Soap, Hesh, Rudy, Alejandro.

Time for another HC. I just want to apologize why I haven't been active the past few weeks A LOT has happened, so yeah.... But I'm back and hopefully I'll get into the groove of posting more. There's just a lot of personal stuff that has happen, because of it I haven't been in the mood to write but I'm trying for y'all. cuz I love y'all 🖤

Other works 👉 Master list

Warnings| period Related stuff obviously.

Ghost 👻

When you first tell him about it he gives you major side eye cuz he doesn't think it exists until you put it in his hand. He is eyeing it up and down like you put a bomb in his hand or something.

Now talking him into actually putting it on is a whole nother ball game, it took you at least 3 weeks to talk him into it. And when he finally agreed, he was eyeing that little mote control that came with it like his life depended on it.

1,000% is scarily quiet.

Definitely is probably the most calm throughout the entire thing. even when you ramp it up to 10 you might hear him grunt a little, but that's the most you're going to get out of this man. Takes it like a champ

Afterwards though... He won't tell you straight up, but he has so much more respect for you now after going through that hell. he'll never admit it, but he was crying screaming throwing up on the inside

He spoils you afterwards a LOT more/Gives into whatever you want during that time of the month. cuddles/snacks/chocolate etc whatever you want bb, he's there. He will also low-key fight anyone who says period cramps are nothing

Soap 🧼

Oh oh oh... My poor so soapy boy, when you first told him about it he got so fucking cocky probably went a little something like this. "Ha! and what is that little machine supposed to do, this will be a breeze! Ay!" he went back on his words after you were done.

Tries to play it cool and tough. but fails it miserably after you crank it up past 4. Guaranteed this mf is already complaining and whining. "What. No... It can't be 4 you're cheating" says something along those lines.

Anything past 5 he is screaming and whining like a child. (He almost ripped it off at that point, but you stopped him beforehand)

He demanded to hold your hand after that, and he had it in a death grip the entire time. like he was given birth or something he said it was for emotional support.(he almost broke your hand from how tight he was squeezing it)

He shed a few tears you pumped it up to 10 but try to play it off. He is regretting every word he said.

Afterwards though he probably said something like "so Bonnie where's my chocolate" or something like that, (expecting to get his own little period basket for "surviving" it as he calls it.😭)

Hesh🌴

(Hesh my bb he is the most underrated character ever. y'all are sleeping on him, and I hate all of you for it. he needs more attention because I said so!)

A lot like ghost, He never even heard it existed until you said something, He definitely was skeptical about it.

He was surprisingly open to trying it. And wasn't nervous about it. And too much to your surprise he was handling it really well. (With the occasional grunts, and groans, here and there. he tried to man it so hard, but failed in the end)

But when you got it past 5 that's when he started to violently sweat, and he kind of started to get quiet, Which made you a little worried.

He did however! took the controller away from you Midway through because he thought you were lying. and then when he realized, he nearly shit himself that it was only at 7. (Definitely gave you bombastic side eye)

But after it was all said and done, he could not stop asking you if that's what periods really felt like, and when you confirmed every single one of them. he went silent looking at you as if God himself was saying it. Moral of the story he gained a lot more respect for you and other women

He was also a lot more gentle with you during those times, not saying he was before. he just somehow took it a step further, and praised you a lot. Telling you how good you did during those times of the month. (Probably also asked Elias/a few of the guys on the team who had wives few of their own tricks on how they dealt with them when they had theirs)

Alejandro 🔥

When you first mentioned the idea to him he looked at you like you were talking in another language. In the back of his mind tho he thought this was all bullshit what could a little machine do. And boy was he wrong

He wasn't necessarily wasn't open to it at first glance but after a little "negotiating" he finally agreed. And boy were you excited you definitely secretly filmed it

You weren't even on to level 2 when he was asking what level you had it on. This man cannot for the life of him keep his mouth shut either, he was either complaining or talking the entire time. NO IN BETWEEN!

Anything past 3 tho... he's acting like he's giving birth. quite literally saying every cuss word in the book, didn't matter if it was English or Spanish you heard it. you were getting slightly concerned

But once you got it turned up to 7. that's when he said fuck this, and ripped it off violently almost breaking the machine, and smashing it. (He also somehow shocked his hand in the process)

But after (that hell experience he calls it) he picked up his game in doing house chores after going through that. he doesn't let you lift a finger during that time of the month.

Rudy🥺

Now Rudy's actually heard of this before from his sister, who's brought it up a couple of times. so when you jumped on the bandwagon too, he was scared for his own safety.

This poor man was probably a sweating nervous wreck. Since he has a mom and sister he knows how bad it was for them. so he's expecting the worst.

Although he was a nervous wreck, he was violently calm through the whole process. which Low key scared you

I feel like he has a high pain tolerance. So it actually didn't affect him that bad. but still it hurt ofc, and he hates seeing people he loves in pain. But when it got to 10 that's when he really started to feel it, and move around more. (You know those little period cramp moves we do yeah that was him 💀)

Although unlike most of the guys, he was more quiet and reserved about the pain. He knew you had to deal with this every month, so what gives him the right to scream and complain when he could turn it off at any moment, and you couldn't.

He also went to his mom and sister after that experience. asking them what more he could do to help you out.

And that's going to be the end for this, I know it wasn't long. but I just wanted to get something out there for you, I hope you enjoy. and I hope you are having a good day/night wherever You are. reblogs, and comments are always appreciated 🖤

Tags @macravishedbymactavish

#call of duty mw2 #david hesh walker #simon ghost riley #modern warfare 2 #cod #cod mw2 #ghost simon riley #cod mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost riley #mw2 headcanons #david hesh walker ghost #hesh walker #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley headcanons #alejandro headcanons #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas #rodolfo cod #rodolfo parra #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo parra mw2 #johhny mactavish #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #alejandro mw2

[honey-and-diamonds]

ive been thinking a lot about phayu's perspective as he falls in irrevocable love with rain. for all intents and purposes, a successful, wealthy, confident man like phayu should NOT be so intrigued by a chaotic, ill-mannered college freshman like rain.

the show makes it a point to say that phayu could have ANYONE he wanted-- he has the looks and the charm and the experience. so why was he so intrigued by rain? well, just because phayu could have anyone, doesn't mean he wants to settle for just anyone. it's obvious that he wants to be with someone who will give phayu their submission. a 24/7 D/s relationship is DIFFICULT to maintain, esp if the parties involved arent completely committed to it. i can imagine phayu has been burned a few times, giving his heart to someone who he thinks might want the same things he does, only for them to find him too intense, too domineering, too overbearing, etc etc. it's not a lifestyle for everyone.

initially, phayu is intrigued by rain because he's pretty, he seems sweet, and he's a little bratty-- perfect for a low-stakes one night stand that probably might keep phayu and his Dominant desires sated for a while. when he first brings rain back to the garage and tries to seduce him, rain is the perfect picture of submission with resistance-- until phayu realizes that they both misunderstood the situation completely. but now that phayu has had a taste of what rain could be like for him... now his interest is piqued.

the scene in the restroom cements everything for phayu. at first, phayu is testing the waters, and rain is resistant in a way that is unclear whether it's because of his bratty nature or if he genuinely doesn't like whats happening. there's a moment when phayu is teasing rain where he pulls away to check in, only to find rain limp, throat bared, eyes closed, mouth open, completely lust-drunk, and phayu raises his eyebrows, like, oh. i think that's when phayu really sees who rain really is, what he wants, what he likes, even if rain doesn't realize it himself. that's the moment phayu realizes that rain might be exactly who he's been looking for all along.

when rain breaks into the illegal street race, it really hits phayu how important rain is to him. the man was absolutely FURIOUS with terror because something horrible could have happened to rain. the only other time we've ever seen phayu lose his temper is when stop spit on one of his bikes-- a disrespect phayu cannot stand for. phayu cares deeply for this boy. suddenly, it's not just a game of teasing, a potentially satisfying one night stand. this is something much more, something phayu can't just let go of without a fight.

but just because phayu wants rain SERIOUSLY now, doesn't mean he's going to throw himself at rain. that's not his style, and it wouldn't be right for them. i mentioned earlier that it's very likely phayu has been burned before by liking people who he thought wanted the same things. his walls are a mile high, so he's not going to jump into this relationship and dynamic with rain without making absolutely sure that rain is committed. when rain issues his "challenge" to make phayu fall in love with him, phayu readily accepts-- but he won't sit idly by. he's going to test rain in every way. he wants so badly for rain to be on the same page as him, but rain isn't there yet. but he could be. so phayu bides his time.

there's a bit of a learning curve with rain. there's an important difference between rain pursuing phayu as reckless revenge, and rain pursuing phayu because he genuinely likes phayu and the dynamic they have. it's a huge obstacle to get over, rain accepting that he desires phayu and his attention, and wants a real relationship with him. that's when he begins his pursuit in earnest, and when phayu starts reciprocating. and he discovers how perfect rain.

i think what phayu wants more than anything else is to be loved by somebody who loves him as deeply and intensely as he himself knows he can. but the situation with rain's failed project highlights what hugely different stages of life they're in. phayu is finding out exactly how stubborn, resilient, and devoted rain can be, even to his detriment. but rain has been so good up until now, and phayu cant punish him. so he issues his final challenge-- be a responsible adult, because phayu wants a responsible, adult relationship. he also says it out of concern for rain-- he doesn't want rain to fail in pursuit of something that is still so unsure. it's the final hurdle, and it will either make or break this budding relationship.

and BOY does rain pass with flying colors. he pulls himself together, works his ass off in a way he likely never has (and was probably very difficult for him) all to prove himself worthy to stand beside phayu. and when he comes to phayu, waiting for him for hours in the pouring rain, to tell him what he's done, it's the point of no return for phayu. i can only imagine how shell-shocked, elated, emotional phayu must have been, to have someone do all this for him, to reciprocate phayu's intense desires and want him just as badly. even when phayu fucked up with the dead phone, rain still waited for him. that's the moment. the point of no return. he's going to give this silly, sweet, wonderful boy everything he has.

their first time is so deeply sweet and intense. you can really see phayu's devotion, the way he worships rain's body, the way he can't be parted from rain for even a second, touching and kissing him in some way. and rain responds so beautifully to all this attention, baring his throat, baring his whole body for phayu's pleasure. rain is absolutely delirious with pleasure, from what phayu is doing to him. outside of the bedroom and inside, rain is perfect for phayu. they want the same things. they slot together perfectly, like they were made for each other, fulfilling each other's desires and needs.

and when they both climax, phayu holds him so tightly, undone, and rain looks like he's going to pass out, head lolling to the side like he's had his brains fucked out. and when phayu tells rain to say he belongs to phayu, rain does, without even a second of hesitation. it's a deeply moving moment of two people who have found their perfect match.

but once theyre in a relationship, they continue to grow and learn about themselves and each other. i don't think phayu has gotten this far with anyone before-- in a committed D/s relationship long term. it shows after the fight with stop when rain says he moves to slowly and phayu frowns in confusion (cute!!) and rain has to take the initiative this time. he continues to be the best boyfriend-- cooling phayu's temper, helping out with the business, even breaking out of their dynamic for a moment to be completely serious about the race with stop, refusing to concede and submit this time. it probably meant a lot of phayu, having someone who cares so much about his well-being.

i think it's no surprise that when rain rides phayu in their iconic scene, phayu is absolutely ruined. it's written so obviously that rain has completely destroyed him for anyone else. it's the blatant desire, the nasty sex, the proclamation that rain is the happiest when he's with phayu. rain is IT for phayu. he's been so guarded for so long, but he found someone who fits with him and brings him so much happiness and joy and satisfaction to his life. when done right, a D/s lifestyle like phayu and rain's is a deeply fulfilling thing. i know they both will guard their precious love.

#phayurain #love in the air #I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS FOR THEM #THEYRE IT FOR ME

[ranchthoughts]

Manipulate, Mansplain, Manwhore, Manslaughter: Ray confronting Boston, ep. 6

I've been loving watching Neo play Boston, and the scene when Ray comes to Boston's house to confront him about sleeping with Top stuck out to me in particular, so I figured I would ~dig~ into it a bit. This conversation felt like Boston cycling through various approaches as he tried to gain the upper hand and hit back at Ray, so I've tried to pinpoint when those approaches start and what distinguishes them.

"Ton, you son of a bitch." "Ray. What the hell?" "How could you be so filthy. Will you do filthy shit to all of your friends?" "What shit are you talking about? What did I do?"

Ray walks into Boston's weirdly shabby chic house and doesn't waste time laying into him. Boston is not unfamiliar with confrontation so he knows better than to volunteer details- better to ask questions and find out what Ray knows (or thinks he knows) before getting defensive or fessing up to something. Boston likes collecting information, he likes knowing where people stand.

"You hooked up with Top! What a douchebag." "How did you know that? Who told you?"

Ray doesn't notice because he's too furious, but Boston is genuinely taken aback. He freezes then shifts side to side, he looks like he did in the shower when Mew came in looking for Top; this is a moment of real panic. Boston is too surprised to play dumb or deny it. Crucially, he doesn't even try the "yeah sure, before Mew and Top got together. what of it?" strategy Top tries at the end of the episode. Instead, Boston is more quiet than we've ever heard him before when he asks, "How did you know that?" and then, quickly, almost frantically, "Who told you?".

Not only is Ray's information good, it's something he should have NO way of knowing. Ray doesn't have the wherewithal to get this information himself, so he must have gotten it from someone else. The fact that Ray, of all people (drunken, incompetent Ray), knows something Boston tried hard to keep on the down low is not good. Boston's used to being the one who holds all the cards, so being out of the loop is disconcerting and alarming.

"Doesn't matter how I knew it! He is your friend. Mew is your friend!"

Ray is preoccupied with not revealing his sources and being angry (he steps closer into Boston's space and shoves him) and gives no indication that he caught Boston's little moment of weakness. This gives Boston some time to pull himself together and pick a course of action.

Approach #1: Manipulate

Downplay.

"So? Top and I screwed before they even started dating. Is it so weird to screw again? I just wanted more. Then I let them love each other all they want. Everyone is filled."

Caught off-guard, Boston has confirmed Ray's accusations. But Ray hasn't accused him of sleeping with Top recently, just at some point (unless there is a nuance in the Thai I am missing). In Boston's panic he now confesses to sleeping with Top after he got together with Mew - Ray already knows that, so it doesn't change the interaction, but this is information Boston gave up without being pressed. He's rattled.

Boston's first approach is to downplay the situation. He and Top have already had sex, what is one more time? At the end of the day Boston's hasn't tried to steal anyone's boyfriend, it didn't stop Mew and Top from falling in love, bing bang boom everyone is content. Boston tries to position Ray as the weird one for not understanding why this is fine. He even pulls out the puppy dog eyes - how could a man with these eyes do anything truly harmful?

Note also how Boston says, "I let them love each other" -> Boston sees himself as the one pulling the strings, he is the one in control. Even when trying to minimize his impact he can't help but drop a little reference to his own superiority.

Probably not Boston's best play in this situation, given how mad Ray is and how emotional he is about Mew, but Boston did just have his world rocked so we can forgive him the sub-optimal initial strategy.

Approach #2: Mansplain

Admit some fault, but smooth it over.

"You're selfish. Damn it, he's your friend. What did Mew do to you? You know that Mew and Top love each other!" "Hear me out, okay? I don't hate Mew at all. I was just needy. The timing was just wrong."

Boston hasn't convinced Ray this is nothing to get worked up over so he needs a new strategy. Ray is sensitive about Mew, so it would be good, would help defuse the situation, if Boston can convince Ray this was not about Mew specifically. To do so, Boston assures Ray he doesn't hate Mew* and takes a little bit more of the blame ("I was just needy!"), but he attributes most of the issue to the timing.

*Note how Boston says "I don't hate Mew at all". Ok Boston... Ray just asked what Mew did to you. You were the one who brought hate into this... Yet another case of Boston telling on himself. While Boston is hung up on Top, he's hung up on Mew too and their comparison war of ideologies they have going on.

Ray has escalated the conversation by stepping closer and even shoving at Boston, so Boston changes his body language as well. He goes from neutral and shrugging to more engaged, leaning in closer, making direct eye contact, and raising his hands in surrender. Boston signals that he is being sincere and non-threatening, just explaining logically.

Approach #3: Manwhore

Ok. Now it's personal.

Gifs by @chickenstrangers

"Timing, my ass. The point is your slutty ass just sleeps with anyone." "Not anyone. I picked him."

Ray isn't backing down - he takes a step forward and escalates it to a personal insult. Now Ray has insinuated that Boston is slut who will sleep with anyone, when Boston takes pride in being a slut in such high demand he can afford to be choosy, he can pick whoever he wants. Boston ducks his head briefly and absorbs the hit, widening his eyes like "did this bitch just...". When he bounces back up, his demeanor has completely changed. Ray didn't listen to logic, and Boston is done playing around. He is a manwhore, and proud of it, and now it's time to go for the jugular.

Boston immediately switches to a cocky, confident tone. He's unapologetic for his actions (look at that little shrug!!). Boston could have his pick of anyone and he chose Top. He doesn't actually care what Ray or Mew or anyone else thinks of that choice; Boston gets what Boston wants.

"And how are you involved in this? Oh! You're playing a good friend who is always so protective of Mew. Honestly, I think you're glad that that happened. You've always waited for your chance. This is in your favour. You're waiting for them to break up and be his rebound when he's weak. You will get that, man."

Thus far Boston has been on the defensive, reacting to Ray's accusations. Now he's on the offensive: Boston loosens up, gets fake casual, and leeches manufactured concern into every syllable. He's not trying to be convincingly, disarmingly sincere anymore, he's being snarky and he wants Ray to feel the contempt dripping off each syllable. Boston leans in, pats Ray condescendingly on his shoulder. Now Ray is off kilter, watching Boston warily. Boston uses Ray's feelings for Mew against him again and smiles like he did in Sand and Nick's apartment that night, the satisfaction of knowing he's hitting hard and causing damage.

Approach #4: Manslaughter

Scorched earth.

Gif by @chickenstrangers

"Ton you motherfucker! What a scumbag. Say that again." "If you tell him, then you're as evil as me. Don't act like you mean well while deep down you hope they will break up. It's disgusting! You should even thank me big time for getting you out of the friendzone."

Boston has dropped almost all his masks now. He's done trying to convince Ray it's nothing, or justify his actions, or defend his slutty honour, or attack Ray with faux concern. He's smiling, even after being punched in the face and knocked to the floor. He hit a nerve, like the night at Sand and Nick's. He's turned this around, now it's Ray hurt and reeling. Ray looks nervous, like he's just seeing Boston for the first time, as the latter sits on the ground and grins up at him.

Eyes locked on Ray, Boston gets back up and advances right into his face, smacking him on the shoulder, barely able to hold back the fury in his voice. Now he's being threatening: if Ray says anything, he's the evil one (or, at least, as evil as Boston, as evil as everyone thinks Boston is). Really, Ray should be thanking Boston for this opportunity, not coming into his house and accosting him, but maybe Boston will be lenient and let it slide this time.

I think that it is telling that Boston's last move in this confrontation is "if you tell him you'll be as evil as me"- out of options, he makes a blatant threat. He's been insinuating that Ray revealing this information is self-serving, trying to make Ray feel bad by bringing up his feelings for Mew; now the gloves are off and Boston serves it to Ray straight: it's evil, it's disgusting. I think it's interesting that Boston doesn't go for a strategy he's tried before with Ray at Sand and Nick's house, when Ray was horrified that Boston took photos of him and Mew kissing and Boston said "What? I just want to keep track of my best friends' romantic moments. Was I wrong?" Contrast that with Boston here, where he says he's been "evil". I don't think Boston thinks there is anything wrong with his actions in either case, but he's not pretending to be ignorant of how other people feel about his actions and he's not goading Ray playfully. Boston is spitting mad and lashing out and I think that reveals how rattled and out of control he feels. At Sand and Nick's he had all the cards, he could afford to be playful and antagonistic. Here he's been confronted with information he never intended to get out and he's trying desperately to shut it down and regain some control.

The Aftermath

Gifs by @chickenstrangers

"You asshole! Fucking jerk." ... "Damn it!"

Ray leaves, having lost this battle, and Boston allows himself a moment to gloat, satisfied in his victory and the pain he caused, before dropping his last mask. He sinks down into the chair, hits out, and swears. Ray might have left and Boston might have had the last laugh, but Ray knows about Top and Boston and Boston is pissed. I imagine that conversation felt like a fight for his life, especially after he started off so wrong-footed (allowing cracks to show in his armour, revealing freely he and Top slept together after Mew and Top were together).

Boston is the Hunter, he is the voyeur, he is the one who knows everything (or at least, he thinks he does - see @wen-kexing-apologist's brilliant post). He doesn't like being wrong, he doesn't like being weak, he doesn't like when he isn't the one in control. Now someone has information on him, information he worked hard to keep quiet. Boston doesn't mind scrutinizing other people for weaknesses and blackmail material, but he draws hard boundaries around himself and gets mad when they get crossed (think of how he reacts to Gap taking videos of him without his consent, or sending him messages, or finding him in person - all things Boston has done to his so-called "friends"). I imagine there's an element of "it's Ray of all people" who caught him out going on too - Boston is supposed to be the one with the read on Ray, Ray is supposed to be the drunk one who doesn't know what is going on.

What was Boston's end goal here? I think he wanted to defuse the situation because an angry and vindictive Ray is unpredictable - if Boston can calm him down he can better control Ray. This is why he went for manipulating and explaining and smoothing things over first before bringing up Ray's feelings for Mew. He tried to get Ray to drop it and when that didn't work, he turned Ray potentially sharing the information into a selfish and cruel act, trying to make Ray feel doubt and shame.

Boston doesn't want this information out yet. I think it's partly because he wants to be in control, he wants to be the one who decides when, where, and how Mew gets told... if he intends to tell Mew at all. Boston's been stealthy this whole time - he told Mew to be wary of Top at the beginning, but after that he's kept his comments out of it. He even was supportive of Mew when he phoned right before having sex with Top the first time. I've been chalking this up to Boston wanting to "beat" Mew "fairly": Boston and Mew have pitted their respective ideologies about sex against one another and while Boston has been trying to undermine Mew and break his heart the whole time (choosing Top, someone Boston thinks would never have interest in a long-term relationship, especially one without sex; seducing Top, etc.), he doesn't want this to be known. Boston doesn't want it to look like he rigged the game, he wants it to seem like Mew failed organically his approach to sex and relationships (and by extension, Mew himself) really are inferior (and because Boston's are superior), but Boston needs to be in control so he can't just leave it up to chance. I wonder if it has something to do with Top as well: if Mew finds out about Top and Boston hooking up, Top will be pissed at Boston for messing things up, and Boston will lose any chance of hooking up with or having control over Top again.

@waitmyturtles says Boston is the most honest character on the show, brutally so. I think that if he had had his wits more about him at the beginning of this confrontation he wouldn't have confessed to sleeping with Top recently, at least until Ray brought it up himself, but that's withholding information not lying. Throughout this whole conversation, even when he is trying to downplay or justify, Boston doesn't lie, or at least never quite:

"Then I let them love each other all they want. Everyone is filled." -> I don't think Boston is HAPPY that Top and Mew continued to be together after he slept with Top, but they are, and Boston is either trying to convince himself that it's because he "let" them (gave up on pursuing Top, not that Top shut him down) or he's somehow internalized this as true.

"I don't hate Mew at all. I was just needy. The timing was just wrong." -> Boston doesn't think it is weird for him to want or have Top again, but he's willing to concede that some people might have a problem with his timing. I also don't think he's quite lying about not hating Mew, there's definitely SOMETHING going on there but is envy/jealousy/insecurity perhaps the better word?

"Honestly, I think you're glad that that happened. You've always waited for your chance. This is in your favour. You're waiting for them to break up and be his rebound when he's weak." -> Boston doesn't lie here either: Ray has loved Mew and wanted to be with him, and I think Ray's reaction (going quiet and still, losing his momentum in the argument and settling for lashing out physically and swearing) proves there's a grain of truth there. I wonder if Boston framing telling Mew as something Ray would be doing for himself, a hurtful act for selfish reasons, is why Ray at the bar is so insistent on telling Mew he wants only the best for him, even if it isn't Ray.

#only friends the series #ofts #ofts meta #ranch thoughts #long post #I love love love getting into Boston's brain

[kingslimeball2]

The Coffee or The Man

Steve Harrington x male!reader

contents; fluff

Summary; Steve finds out that his crush on his best friend was much more obvious than he thought.

The clock ticks again, and again, and again. It had been ten minutes since M/n left to get a coffee for Steve, yet he can't stop staring out the window and glancing at the time. No matter how long Steve stares, nothing seems to change, so he instead appears rather desperate. The VHS tape in his hand still hasn't been placed on the shelf. He's a statue now, helpless and longing...

"Steve!" The familiar voice shakes Steve out of his trance. His head whips around to look at Robin, who's giving him a rather suspicious, look. "Are you seriously that desperate for M/n to get back?" She teases, leaning against the shelf with a knowing smirk. Steve just scoffs, moving his arm forward. He tries to put the VHS on the shelf, but misses and has to look to put it on properly.

"I don't know what you're implying, but I just really want that coffee." Steve replies, not looking back at Robin. Robin puts down her tapes and moves closer to Steve, trying to get his full attention. "You didn't want M/n to leave when he offered." She retorts.

"Look– I–" Steve cuts himself off, jaw hung low as he tries to think of some kind of excuse. He looks at Robin and huffs. "He's my best friend. I just wanted his company."

"Right, right. But are you aware of the way you look at M/n?" Robin tilts her head, as if trying to get her point across. Steve is fully aware.

It all started not that long ago when M/n and Steve were trapped in the Russian basement together. M/n had sacrificed himself to protect Steve from any harm, while he got tortured for answers. Steve was grateful, very grateful. But he also felt love for M/n in that moment. He tried to push it away. To convince himself that he's not the sort of guy that likes men. But he couldn't seem to change himself. He still can't.

Several months later, Steve is even deeper in love with M/n. He doesn't want to admit that to himself, talk about to Robin. It's all so confusing. Why has Steve suddenly started liking guys? And why his best friend of all people?

"I look at him how I look at anyone." Steve denies, grabbing a tape and continuing to stock the shelf. He wants to move on from the conversation. But he knows Robin will persist. "No you don't! You love him, don't you? Just be honest with me." She continues to pry.

"Robin! I'm not gay. Just drop it. We talked about this. I like boobies or whatever." Steve argues, clearly getting more frustrated in his tone. "Just because you like women doesn't mean you can't like men. Specifically M/n." She explains.

Steve doesn't quite know what to say now. He's been caught, and there's no denying it anymore. He can barely admit this to himself, talk about one of his closest friends. He can't quite force any words from his lips that agree to Robin's accusations. If Robin finds out, that means other people would eventually find out, including M/n. But also including Steve's parents. They'd kill him.

"I just want him to get back with my coffee. That's it." Steve says, finally able to get words out of his mouth, despite the devastating crack in his voice.

"Is it the coffee or the man that you want?" Robin asks, barely even considered a question. They both know the answer.

Steve looks at Robin, who's already looking at him. They both make eye contact; one of mutual understanding. There's no need to say an answer. Steve's glazed-over, doe eyes say it all. The man.

Ding!

Steve and Robin look over at who's entered the store. M/n walks in, back pressed into the door as both of his hands are holding a cup of coffee. Steve completely blocks out whatever M/n is saying, too distracted by his own feelings at just seeing the boy enter. Exchanging a glance, Steve and Robin make a telepathic agreement to be quiet about this, nodding their heads once.

M/n doesn't need to know. Not yet.

#joe keery #steve harrington x male reader #joe keery x male reader #joe keery x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #Spotify

[crying-fantasies]

Different versions: Blitzwing

G1/IDW mess

He was a very much organic hater before, now most bots would say he has a very insane fixation over you, who somehow ended up being his conjunx endurae, some still ask if he is treating you in any way because he is Blitzwing for crying out loud, no one wanted to frag him to begin with among his own species.

Yet again, what he could have is some kind of infatuation result of you two being in the constant threatening presence of Earth military, and being in a state terrible enough it ended with you taking pity on him, taking care of him, and it doesn't matter if you are human, mech or a thing, anyone could want to be cared for or being patched up when you get to rock bottom.

He only got Sabersky because he saw on human media (afternoon soap operas) that having a child makes the couple stay together forever and ever, out of it, he sometimes wants to kill his own energon and circuits with his bare servos to have you back to himself, but he reconsiders everytime he is really going to do it to appreciate how much the kiddo looks like you, the kid's only saving grace since he is weak as fuck.

TFAnimated

If he could sing this could have been a musical special of "I won't say I'm in love" between Icy and Hothead while Random proclaims poetic verses over the way you exude sweat and how much he wants to taste it with a lovesick expressions out of Yandere simulator itself that most of the time are intercepted as heated incomprehensible dead sentences, Random is sorry you look so scared of him while the other two are happy with the outcome.

They are not, not really, because you tend to go look for whoever can try to protect you, and it is also a low blow to this ego (egos?) since who could protect you better than him? Still, it's a long ride to even think he can say anything face to face, having in mind Icy hasn't uttered a word in front of you since he realized in what utter mess he got into by liking a human, Hothead shouts profanities more times than he really talks to you in order to have you as away of him possible (he gets nervous okay?) and don't even get started in how Random squeals like a toy everytime he sees you.

You only try to escape because he terrifies you.

Shattered Glass

As quiet as he gets to be he did meet you at some point and also did have an interesting relationship, it started more as a pair of friends, than then became something similar to an Amica, but destiny is cruel for making you be born and live in a planet such as earth that is only half on fire on the best days, even when he tries to think in other ways, it doesn't really matter, he tells himself so, as your life was bound to flicker like a taunt line from the very beginning.

He only follows Earth's grieving traditions and puts flowers on the collapsed building that once was part of the human resistance last stands, the place you contacted him for the last time before the Autobots bombarded the place to their very basement, he can still remember when the first explosion took place, your screams of fear and the first foundations collapsing before every connection is lost, some other mech would have erased such a painful memory from their memory banks in order to remain sane, but he really can't stop from hearing your: "Hope to see you soon, Blitzwing"; he misses you dearly, there are times when he wishes you could have been able to read his EMF to know how much he wanted to start courting you.

#reader insert #x reader #tf mtmte #transformers x reader #angst #transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human reader #transformers animated #tfa blitzwing #shattered glass #SG Blitzwing #idw transformers #idw Blitzwing

[acourtofthought]

Because I follow the "Elain Archeron" tag, Tumblr will occasionally make recommendations on my feed and some of those happen to end up being posts written by E/riels.

One of these suggestions mentioned that Elain and Az are well suited to one another due to their quiet and reserved natures and I had to shake my head because, what?!

The Elain in the Night Court who talks softly, has hands that shake around Az, is quiet and reserved is the Elain still experiencing the effects of trauma which we know she still has because she herself confirmed it in SF.

The Elain from before:

She had come alive here, and her joy was infectious. There wasn’t a servant or gardener who didn’t smile at her, and even the brusque head cook found excuses to bring her plates of cookies and tarts at various points in the day

Elain had taken charge of planning and finding me a last-minute dress, and … it would only be for an evening.

But I tried to smile, if only for Elain, who flitted about the room, personally greeting each guest and dancing with all their important sons.

Two in the morning, and yet the party was showing no signs of slowing. / Elain was laughing among a circle of beautiful friends, flushed and brilliant. Nesta had silently left at midnight, and I didn’t bother to say good-bye as I finally slipped upstairs.

Elain, to my surprise, had a horse, a satchel of food, and supplies ready when I hurried down the stairs. My father was nowhere in sight. But Elain threw her arms around me, and, holding tightly, said, “I remember—I remember all of it now.”

“We keep it secret—we send the servants away. With the spring approaching, they’ll be glad to go home. And if Feyre needs to be in and out for meetings, she’ll send word ahead, and we’ll clear them out. Make up excuses to send them on holidays.

Order them to leave now.” “I’ll do it,” Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn’t wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

“My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

Does that seem like a reserved and quiet female or does that seem like someone who, while kind, takes charge and is the life of the party? Someone who comes alive when in the right place?

Does the Elain of the Night Court seem to be the center of everything that's going on or does she seem to fade in the presence of the others?

And if that's not convincing enough:

“Elain is overwhelmed by crowds.” “SHE DIDN'T USE TO BE THAT WAY". Nesta swirled her glass of amber liquid. “She loved balls and parties.” The words hung unspoken. But you and your court dragged us into this world. Took that joy away from her.

Feyre then tells Nesta she's "readjusting" and sure, Elain isn't a total shell, she's doing her best to make a life for herself but she's definitely not the vibrant person she once was.

We are told point blank that the Elain in the Night Court is different and it's clearly not a good thing.

Show me a scene where Az ever happily wandered around from person to person making conversation in a social setting outside of the IC. Show me a scene where he's happily chatting up even a single person outside the IC.

Show me a scene where people are eager to do things for Az because he's such a pleasure to be around.

Feyre wonders if Az gets some of his information from "stone cold manners" but there's never any proof of it happening and even if it had, having manners in order to spy on someone isn't the same as actually enjoying the interaction.

The fact is that Az and Elain do not have similar personalities and any connections people are trying to make is based off Elain as she is after very recent and extreme traumas.

It's a problem in this fandom that I often notice with certain groups and something they seem to do with both Gwyn and Elain.

They think Gwyn can't be interested in Az because she started SF in a low place. They look at Elain as she is in the NC and have based their entire opinion of who she is off that.

They fail to realize that ACOWAR, ACOFAS and SF are poor representations of who these two females actually are (as who they are in those books are who they are because of trauma). They fail to consider who they'll be once they've fully overcome their traumas.

Gwyn isn't going to shy away from males forever.

We've already seen growth from her in SF and she's only going to continue healing. Thinking that it's going to take too long for her to overcome what happened to her and therefore can not go on to have a happy relationship before the series ends is a disturbing mentality.

And thinking that we're not going to eventually see the return of the Elain who took charge and convinced others what to do with smiles alone, who thrived when surrounded by friends and non friends (just people in general), who loved balls and parties is a bit odd because that's the Elain who is canonically the happiest we've ever seen her to be.

And if there is the acknowledgement that we will see the return of that Elain but someone still believes she'd be well matched with Az who Cassian tells us "likes his space", it's possibly the strangest thing of all.

Sure Elain and Az are physically attracted to one another, that can not be disputed.

However what also cannot be disputed is that the Lucien who easily makes friends wherever he goes and enjoys parties, who prefers to avoid violence is an exact match for the happy version of Elain who easily makes friends, enjoys parties, and is bothered by cruelty.

Someone can prefer the opposites attract trope but it's completely false to claim that Elain and Az are similar in personality.

But regardless of what tropes we prefer, in the end what someone wants to see won't matter because SJM doesn't seem to prefer opposites attract and she's the one calling the shots.

#pro elucien #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #pro gwynriel #anti e/riel #anti e*riel #antielriel