darkandstarrynight

Latest Posts by darkandstarrynight

you're laughing. they turned sakusa kiyoomi into an emote and you're laughing

Oh I miss mcd,,,

when you put your hand on his cheek and he turns into it to kiss your palm :(

unspoken feelings prompts

“i wish i could tell you how i really feel.”

“sometimes, the silence says more than words ever could.”

“if only you knew what goes on in my mind when i look at you.”

“i keep my feelings hidden because I’m afraid of what might happen if you knew.”

„every time I see you, my heart aches with things left unsaid.”

“i wonder if you can sense how much you mean to me.”

“there’s so much I want to say, but I can’t find the right words.”

“you have no idea how hard it is to act like everything is normal.”

“every smile, every laugh, it’s all a cover for what I really feel inside.”

“sometimes, i catch myself staring at you, wishing things were different.”

“i wish you could read my mind, so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud.”

“there are a thousand things I want to tell you, but I can’t.”

“if you ever found out, it might ruin everything.”

“every time i’m near you, my heart screams what my lips can’t.”

“i hope one day i’ll have the courage to tell you how i really feel.”

Intense Love Confessions

"I simply can't bear another minute without you in my life."

"My love for you consumes me."

"I don't even know how to handle the feelings I have for you."

"Nothing will ever keep us apart anymore."

"This heart belongs to you. You can break it or heal it."

"I love you more than words can ever express."

"You are my forever. My future. My one and only."

"Even if the world was ending, I would be happy to be by your side."

"Without you, I am nothing. I love you more than you could ever understand."

"I didn't believe in soulmates before I met you."

"You are the one. My love of my life."

"I wouldn't want to experience one more day without you."

"Without you, I am incomplete. You are my missing part."

"And I love you more each day and it hurts so much not being able to tell you."

"You made me believe in love."

More: Love Confessions Masterpost

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Okay but like imagine Ridoc x Reader who is Xaden's little sister.

You are a lot like your brother. No nonsense. No unnecessary feelings or friends, maybe because you had to grow up too fast just like your brother and is a huge part of the revolution.

Then comes Ridoc. The guy who started flirting with you the day you and him stepped on the parapet. He was literally right behind you, trying to maintain balance but also flirting with you as if his survival depends on it. Of course you didn't give much attention to him, if anything he annoyed you or at least that's what you made yourself believe.

Literally everyone at Basgiath knows Ridoc has a thing for you. He will tease you, flirt with you, and back off for a few minutes when Xaden glares at him.

Imagine you two having to fight and spar together. Ridoc once or twice defeated you and ended up on top of you, but he likes it much better when you end up on him. He doesn't take it easy on you but he has let you win once or twice which you think is insulting to you.

Then imagine you bonded with a beautiful blue dragon just like your brother. She is the definition of power and elegance and has a temper like you. Let's just say Ridoc's dragon Aotrom considers your dragon the love of his life, but just like you the blue dragon tries to ignore him.

So now both Ridoc and his dragon are on a mission

Jenson Button (GBR) Honda Racing F1 // Post-Race Press Conference, San Marino Grand Prix 2004.

Happy Simi day!

bonus:

"I promised Kimi that one day I would beat him [at badminton]. We're both getting older. I'm eight years younger than him, so at the latest when he's really old and I'm just a younger old man, I'll beat him in that game." - Seb, 2008

"He said to me that he is gonna beat me when I get older, but so far it hasn't happened." - Kimi, 2021

OH WHATEVER GOD IS UP THERE PLEASE HAVE DINO AND PAUL ON THE PODIUM

everyone say happy birthday lando norris right NOWWW

girl we also hate you being busy cause we wanna read maneater😭😭

i hate being busy I WANNA WRITE MANEATER

heheeheehe

JEJFJDJF I LOVE THEM

OH MY GOD IM OBSESSED THIS IS SO GOODDD!!!!!

Stitches: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 4

Welcome to - *waves* whatever this is. I originally called it my fluff mini series but I keep extending it.

If this is your first time here, please check out Part 1 Part 2 and Part 3.

If you like this mini series, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on Ao3 here

Pairings: femme reader x Jean

Summary: You begin to unravel the mystery of why your "situationship" with Jean hasn't progressed.

Warnings: none here

Word count: ~4.9K

Although you are exhausted after your night with Jean, you hardly sleep that night. Your mind races, twists and turns. You're torn between how much fun you had at the poetry slam and wine bar – very intimate settings – and the obvious way Jean pulled away from you at the very end of the night. It didn't make any sense. Why kiss you several weeks ago, why ask you out like that – and then nothing?

The Thursday work day is brutal. You trudge through your work, mindlessly checking patients in for their appointments, barely able to keep your eyes open until finally, you reach the last hour before the clinic closes.

You're unsure whether to look forward to trivia with your friends tonight. It's another chance to see Jean – another chance to get your hopes up. And you fear you've already gotten them up far too high. Maybe you shouldn't go.

You pull out your phone to find a few unread texts from Sasha that you've purposely ignored.

You should've woken me up this morning – I wanna know how it went last night with Jean!

Girl, do not leave me hanging!!

Spill. The. Tea.

If you don't spill soon I'm going straight to the horse's mouth. Hehe – get it??

Your stomach sinks down to your feet. You twist back and forth in your chair behind the clinic check-in desk. It's hard to let Sasha down.

It was fun. But I don't think he likes me like that. He's just flirty.

She responds immediately.

Girl please. I have never seen Jean be “just flirty” with anyone. You and I both know who he's going to try to sit next to at trivia tonight.

Releasing a sigh, you lean back in your chair. For once, you really don't have the mental energy to hang out with your friends. Missing one night shouldn't be a big deal, right? Everyone missed one every once in a while.

Actually, I don't know if I'll go tonight. I'm pretty tired.

What?? Pleeeeease :) it's more fun with you! :)

An uncontrollable smile spreads across your face. Sasha is all too persuasive, or maybe you're too persuadable. After Historia moved out, you dreaded evenings and weekends without any friends to hang out with. But it didn't take long for Sasha to plead with you to come to trivia with her friends and rave about how much she loved your company. It's nice to know someone wants you there – even if it's not Jean.

Maybe I'll take a nap before.

Yay! I'm working late so I'll head straight to the bar straight after. See you there :)

~ ~ ~

You lie on your bed, phone up to your ear in one hand and your other hand is gesticulating up to the ceiling.

“What does he want from me?” You demand from your best friend even though she's just as clueless as you. “I mean, we kiss the first night we hang out, he paints a fucking picture of me, he practically takes me out on a date – but nothing since that first kiss. Who does that?”

“Well,” Historia says your name in her soft voice, “you know, you've been. . .”

“What?” You demand.

“It's just um. . .oh, don't make me say it!”

“C'mon Historia.” You flip over to your stomach. “You know you can tell me anything. Hit me with it.”

“Well, you've kinda been doing the same thing. Giving mixed signals. You haven't made a move with Jean either, have you? Not since you went to see the ice sculptures?”

Your body tenses. Historia is right. You're just as guilty.

“No,” you answer with force. “I think I used up my bold moves that night.”

“What if you just tell him how you feel?”

“What if I just walk into five lanes of traffic?”

Historia says your name in an exasperated tone.

“What! It'd basically be the same feeling,” you defend.

“You asked my opinion and I gave it.”

“Ugh, yeah I know. It's almost unfair how much Ymir has rubbed off on you.” Historia rarely called you out on your bullshit, so when she did, you knew it was real. You look at your watch. 6:30 pm. You should be walking to trivia now. “Look, I gotta go. I'll catch up with you later?”

“Sure. Just remember – you deserve better. You don't have to take table scraps from anyone.”

You cringe, knowing exactly what Historia is referencing. She held you while you cried after the guy you dated for a year in college dumped you out of the blue because he “just didn't see a future together.” It should've been obvious from the beginning since he hardly ever made an effort to see you. Though it was a couple years ago, the old wound still aches sometimes. Historia and Ymir were your emotional stitches, but there was still a scar.

“Yeah, I know,” you say softly. “Anyways. Say hi to Ymir for me?”

“Always,” Historia says.

~ ~ ~

You rush through the bar doors knowing you're a little late. Trivia hasn't started yet, but all of your new friends are already seated with a drink in front of them. A few perk up to wave and greet you.

“Sorry guys!” You apologize and unwrap your scarf. Trost has slowly been warming up but it's still snowing. You're a little sweaty from running over despite the cold.

“No worries, saved you a seat!” Sasha leans back to wave at you from the middle of the table.

“Thanks,” you breath and take off your hat. You attempt to smooth down your hair while you take a seat next to Sasha. You turn to your left and -

It's Jean.

Of course. Sasha purposely saved you a seat between her and Jean.

Jean is wearing a light purple t-shirt. You've never seen him in a t-shirt before. His biceps are well defined and somehow still tanned despite it being winter.

“You good?” He asks you and tilts his head. You blush, not realizing how hard you were staring.

“Yeah, you uh, have paint on your shirt.” You poke a yellow splotch on his chest and wonder if his chest is as well defined as his biceps. And maybe something else is well defined – no no no, lord, grant me the strength to stop my unholy thoughts, you pray, though you've never been religious.

“Ah, shit.” Jean looks down and dabs the yellow splotch. “It's already dry.”

“Must've been a good time at the studio today?” You ask, attempting to clear your head.

“Yeah, really good,” he nods. “Actually,” he pauses and bites his bottom lip. He finally makes eye contact with you. “Would you mind coming to the studio sometime soon? Maybe tomorrow or Saturday? I have an idea.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And you need me?”

“Yes.” Jean nods with force. “I figured I should ask this time.”

“Oh.” Surprise ripples through your body. Is Jean asking to paint you? You're flustered, unsure how to respond. On one hand, it's flattering that he wants to use you for inspiration again – and involve you. On the other, it seems far too romantic for “friends.”

Pink flushes Jean's face as he waits for you to respond more. “Ah, never mind, it's a dumb idea.” He waves. “You don't have to.”

“No, I uh -”

“Hey everyone!” Eren calls the group to attention. He sits directly across from Jean. “I want to make a toast.” He wraps his arm around Mikasa, who leans into him and smiles. Her black hair falls like a curtain over half her face. Eren raises his drink in the air and waits for everyone else to follow his motion. “To my beautiful girlfriend Mikasa, whose birthday is tomorrow. And – we just celebrated our one-year anniversary. I wouldn't have gotten the guts to finally ask her out if it weren't for you all.”

Your friends give a mix of cheering and “awww.”

“Get a room already!” Connie berates the couple.

You grab the glass of water in front of you and raise it in celebration.

But you notice Eren isn't gazing back at Mikasa like you'd expect. No, his green eyes are piercing straight ahead.

At Jean.

Who is staring right back at Eren. Jean's fist shakes under the table, out of sight for everyone except you.

And in that moment, you realize.

Eren's toast isn't meant to praise Mikasa, though that's how almost everyone was interpreting it. No, it's a taunt.

For Jean.

Who nearly blew up when you two ran into Eren and Mikasa at the ice sculptures. Who insisted you were friends. Who backed away from you after the wine bar.

A burning question crashes down on you.

Does Jean has a thing for Mikasa?

Is that why he's avoided a second kiss?

Your stomach twists and stings. You take a small sip of your water as everyone says “cheers” and wishes Mikasa a happy birthday.

Jean's eyes wander over to you. He puts his beer down.

“Oh hey, you're missing a drink,” he points out. He licks a bit of foam off his upper lip. “Can I grab you anything?” He jabs his thumb at the bar behind him.

“No, I don't want anything,” you say and cross your arms. Jean raises his eyebrows at your curt, yet polite tone.

“Ah, okay.” He turns away and chats with Reiner on his other side. You're actually dying for a drink. Something to dull your senses would be fantastic, but you sit through all the trivia rounds without getting anything out of sheer stubborn will.

It's not about the drink, of course.

Jean doesn't try to talk to you again. It's as if you've built a wall in between the two of you.

And that's how it should be. How it needs to be. You can't delude yourself any longer.

You and Jean are just friends.

Just. Friends.

~ ~ ~

Connie is once again crashing your weekly movie night with Sasha. Though the two of you don't mind too much, you have one rule for Connie: no complaining about the movie choice.

“The Devil Wears Prada? Haven't you seen this a million times?” Connie holds up the battered DVD case like it's the sandwich Sasha forgot under the couch last week.

“Uh uh uh!” You wag the knife you're using to cut green bell peppers at him. “You know the rules, no complaining about our movie choice.”

“Especially since you weren't even invited,” Sasha's voice drips with acid as she gives him the side eye. Beside you, she continues rolling out the pizza dough. Friday night movie nights were your idea – a relaxing night in to recover after the chaos of Thursday night trivia with your new friends.

“Alright, fine fine.” Connie collapses into the couch cushions. “Why do you two like this movie so much anyways?”

“Because!” You erupt, throwing your hands in the air, one of them still wielding the knife. “It's the early 2000s rise of girl boss feminism. Miranda, who symbolizes white girl capitalism, is made out to be the main villain. She is a villain, but the real one, the one we didn't see when we were young, naive girls is Nate – the evil boyfriend who hates Andie for exploring fashion and her feminine side. But!” You pause for dramatic effect. “Andie is also a problem as she trades her relationships for capitalist success. In this essay I will. . .” you trail off and smirk.

“Sheesh,” Connie mutters. “Didn't realize this was an English class. No wonder you and Jean get along.”

“You don't have to be here,” you remind him and ignore the comment about Jean.

“Ugh. Lemme see what our dear Jeanboy is doing tonight.” At the mention of Jean's name, you peer over to watch Connie pull out his phone while you slice another bell pepper.

A sharp sting rips through your thumb.

“Agh!” You yell and pull your thumb away from the knife and cutting board. Distracted by the mention of Jean, you had sliced your thumb instead of the pepper. Sasha grabs a wad of paper towels and hands them to you. You squeeze down on your thumb and blood soaks through the paper towels.

“You good?” Sasha places an arm around you and guides you to sit on the couch next to Connie.

“I think so?” You answer, but your shaking voice tells another story.

“Let's see. . .” Sasha peels back the bloody wad with a gentle touch to reveal a deep cut. Your skin is split wide open and gushes blood.

“Yuck.” Connie leaps off the couch. “That looks nasty. Want me to call Marco? I don't think he's working tonight.”

You shrug, unsure if your cut actually needs stitches. Connie dials up Marco regardless of your indecision.

“Hey Marco – we need your man nurse skills . . .what, no! Not for me.” He clarifies that it's for you.

“Is this a regular occurrence?” You ask Sasha.

“Connie has abused Marco's skills so many times,” she laughs. “He refuses to help him anymore. You're a first timer though, so I'll bet anything he'll be over soon.”

Sure enough, Connie announces that Marco will be over in a few minutes.

“Anyways,” he flops back onto the couch, “I'll stick around until then at least.”

“Good call, literally,” you say.

Your mind wanders back to the reason you were so distracted. Heat rises to your face as you realize these are the safest people to ask what you've been wondering about Jean – and Mikasa.

“Hey. . . can I ask you guys something?”

“Sure!” Sasha beams and wraps another layer of paper towels around your thumb. Connie scrolls aimlessly through Instagram.

“About Jean . . . did he and Mikasa ever. . .you know?” You dance around your question, unsure of how to phrase it. Connie's head jerks up. Your heart pounds in anticipation. Did they date? Did they fuck? You gnaw on the inside of your cheek.

“Mmm, I'm not really sure,” Sasha muses and avoids eye contact. “Jean definitely had a thing for her when they met a couple years ago, but obviously nothing came of it.”

“But nothing happened – at all?” You press.

“Jeanboy doesn't kiss and tell,” Connie sighs. “I asked him once and he almost punched me. So if something did happen, we don't know. He's no fun.”

“Maybe you could ask Marco?” Sasha lightens up. “Those two have been tight forever. He's the only one that would know for sure.”

*knock knock*

“Speak of the devil,” Connie says and gets up to grab the door. “Marco, you've come to save her from bleeding out!”

Marco steps through the door with a small kit in hand.

“Hey,” Marco breathes your name and shivers from the lingering cold. “What happened?” He asks as he strips off his coat. Red from the bitter cold is spread across his freckled face.

“I uh, had an incident with a knife,” you explain and hold out your thumb. Marco walks over to you and Sasha on the couch. You realize he's almost as tall as Jean because as he kneels in front of you, he can still make level eye contact. With a gentle touch, he peels back the paper towel to reveal your wound.

“Yikes,” he frowns, “you're definitely going to need stitches.”

You involuntarily cringe.

“Alright, two options,” Marco continues and sits back on his heels. “I can take you to the urgent care I work at, or if you really trust me, we can do it here.”

“Ten out of ten recommend Doctor Marco!” Connie yells from the kitchen as he rifles through the cupboard for snacks.

“Not a doctor,” Marco mutters and shakes his head. “Anyways, I can do stitches in my sleep, but I can understand if you'd rather go to urgent care.”

“No, I trust you. Plus, I really don't fee like dropping a couple hundred dollars on stitches.” Ironically, the clinic you worked at didn't offer a very good health insurance plan.

“Sounds good,” Marco smiles. “Bathroom okay?”

“Yep.” You stand up and “Woah. . .”

Purple dots cloud your vision. Cotton balls fill your ears.

“Easy there.” Marco grabs your waist to steady you. “Hey Sasha? Connie? Can you go grab her some Gatorade or something?”

“On it!” Sasha jumps off the coach and grabs her purple puffy coat. At the same time, Connie whines, “But it's cold and dark out there!”

“C'mon.” Sasha grabs Connie and drags him to the front door. “Our comrade needs our help.”

“Fine,” he mutters and throws his coat on. “Good luck, you better still be alive when we come back.”

You wave to your friends as they leave.

“What's the Gatorade for?” You ask and steady yourself as your vision restores.

“Mostly to get those two outta here, they're kinda distracting.” Marco rubs the nape of his neck. “But you do also look a little pale. Some sugar and electrolytes should help with that.”

Marco grabs two chairs from the kitchen and places them in front of the bathroom sink.

“This shouldn't take too long. First, let's clean it,” he explains and takes out a packet of antiseptic wipes from his kit. He dabs your wound with a wipe and it instantly stings. You hiss and clench your fist. “That's the worst part – and it's over. Do you normally get squeamish around blood?”

“It's not really the blood,” you explain. “It's more like the anticipation.”

“Ah, anxiety?” He asks and prepares for the stitches. “Armin's like that too,” he chuckles. “He practically passed out during our first nursing rotations in school.”

“Wait, Armin was in nursing school with you?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Nursing school yes, but different ones. We were in the same rotation at the hospital though, that's how we met. I invited him to hang out with us and he brought Eren and Mikasa. That's how we all became friends. Armin ended up on the research of side of things instead, which he's much more suited for. He's brilliant. Oh – you might want to put your head down or look away for this.” Marco pauses and gives you a serious look. “It won't hurt much, but we can't have you passing out.”

“Oh, sure.” You comply and turn your head away, placing your chin on your free hand.

“So that means you all met what – your senior year?”

“Yep.” Marco idly confirms. You feel a gentle tugging on your skin.

“Marco . . . can I ask you a question? A personal one?” The tugging on your skin stops. “Not about you though,” you quickly explain.

“Oh.” The tugging resumes. “Sure.” The question burns on your lips.

“Did anything ever happen between Jean and Mikasa?” The burning on your lips blazes to your cheeks.

“Ah.” Marco clears his throat. “I thought you might ask about that.”

“Really?” Surprise ripples through your body.

“Yeah, Jean's been talking about you a lot lately. I figured something was going on. Anyways. . .” he trails off, concentrating on your last two stitches. “What I can tell you is that Jean was really into her when they first met at that party I mentioned.”

Your stomach turns.

“And did anything ever come of it?”

Marco hesitates.

“Look, I don't know if I should be sharing this with anyone -”

“Please, Marco?” You turn and plead with his light brown eyes. You're so desperate for information that a confession doesn't even phase you. “I like him. And I need to know. . . if he's hung up on someone else. I don't want to waste my time. Or get hurt. Please?”

Marco sighs. “Alright. They went on a date. One date.” He finishes off the stitches and avoids eye contact with you. “Jean asked and she said yes. He didn't tell me a ton, but he came home really happy that night. A couple days later, we all hear that Mikasa and Eren are officially a couple. I asked Jean what happened and he just growled at me. That's all I know.”

Your jaw actually drops. You stare at Marco open mouthed. You barely register that he's done with the stitches as he puts his supplies away. “So she went on a date with Jean and then immediately started dating Eren??”

Marco whips back over to look at you. “Oh, but please don't think poorly of Mikasa! She's not a bad person.” Now it's his turn to plead with you.

You remain silent. It's almost unthinkable. Admittedly you don't know Mikasa very well, but she's always seemed like a kind, introverted soul. What would posses her to do something like that? Flashes of anger heat your body despite Marco's insistence. That must've really hurt Jean.

“You really don't know what happened? Nothing at all?” You press your lips together in a tight line.

“No,” Marco shakes his head and stands up. “I wish I did. Jean was pretty bent out of shape about it for a while, but he's not exactly the kind to easily share his feelings.”

“You got that right,” you huff. “Be honest with me – do you think I'm wasting my time with Jean?”

Marco pauses in thought. He leans against the sink and crosses his arms. “No, not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I get the sense he likes you,” he smiles. “But,” his smile disappears, “I gotta be honest, I couldn't say if he's over Mikasa. It's been about a year, so maybe, but like I said, I don't even know everything that happened.” He shrugs. “But I think it's worth talking to Jean about it. Ask him and he'll probably be more honest with you than with me.”

“Sure,” you nod slowly. “It's just that. . . feelings are hard.” Your gaze lingers on your newly stitched up thumb. Telling Jean you like him and asking about Mikasa feels on par with ripping out your new stitches. And pouring more alcohol into the wound.

“Yeah, I get that,” Marco agrees. “I guess it depends on how much he's worth it to you.”

~ ~ ~

The movie night is a perfect distraction from the ulcer growing in your stomach from thinking about Jean. You and Sasha cackle throughout the movie, quoting lines from memory and imitating Miranda's stern look.

“I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.”

“CERULEAN!!”

“Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking.”

Despite Connie's griping, he stays the entire time and as per usual, falls asleep on your couch. After the movie, you crawl into bed and check your phone.

You have an unread text from Jean.

See you tomorrow morning?

You groan. Tomorrow is your scheduled Saturday morning creative date with Jean. Not date, you correct yourself. Your mind wanders back to what Marco said. Was figuring out what's up with Jean worth it to you? With the way he looked at Mikasa and his frustration with Eren, it seemed like he wasn't over what happened – dangerous territory. You weren't in too deep now, you try to convince yourself. You only kissed once. And sure, you're crushing, but crushes fade. You chew on the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to proceed. So you choose to avoid.

I'll have to sit this one out, not feeling great :/

Technically it's the truth. You don't think you'll get much writing done with Jean across the table from you. And you don't feel great – mentally or physically. Overthinking was getting exhausting, and your stitches were aching despite the pain killers Marco gave you. Your phone buzzes.

Ah, that's right, Marco told me about the stitches. That sucks! Do you need anything?

Nope, Sasha's got me covered. Don't need anything.

~ ~ ~

The next few days move at, well – a glacial pace.

You don't write at all.

Your wound under the stitches aches.

You think about Jean and Mikasa the entire time.

On Monday, Jean texts you an interesting article about world building, but you don't respond. In truth, you're dying to talk with him again. You don't realize how much you enjoy his company until you skip your creative date. You miss talking about art and writing with him. You miss that he takes it seriously in a way that your other friends didn't. You miss how open you could be with each other – well, for the most part.

You're taking your lunch break on Wednesday when you get another text from Jean.

Hey, you feeling better? Up for wine and writing/art tonight?

You sigh and tap your fingers over and over again on the table. Maybe the best decision is to cut it off now. The last time you admitted vulnerability, it didn't so well.

After months of dating that guy on your floor in college, you grew tired of only seeing him on his terms. You never felt like you could ask to see him. You were always waiting for him to text you. You even canceled plans with Historia in hopes that he might want to do something. You hated it. You began to hate yourself for how pathetic you became.

So you told him. You told him how you wanted to see each other more. You wanted to actually build a relationship, not just hang out with someone at parties on weekends. Your face burned and your voice shook, but you were proud of yourself for standing up for once.

And then he broke up with you. Right then and there.

And that was it.

You pull yourself back to the present moment and text Jean back.

I have plans tonight, sorry.

Text bubbles pop up and you brace yourself for impact.

Oh, okay.

Your stomach drops. You turn your phone off and shove the rest of your lunch back in the staff fridge. You're being rude to Jean, you know it. You hate yourself for it.

But this is for the best.

~ ~ ~

Once work is finally over, you hop on the train home and stop by the local liquor store. You might not be getting wine with Jean tonight, but you sure as hell want a glass of wine. Or two. Or three. Anything to get Jean off your mind. And with Sasha out tonight with Nicolo, you need a distraction.

As you walk toward the store, you admire at the blush pink sunset. Mid-February is still freezing in Trost, but at least it's now light when you get home, albeit just barely.

You mindlessly roam the aisles until you find the boxed wine section. In college, you and Historia always opted for boxes over bottles. It was the economically smart decision and neither of you were well versed enough in wine to tell much of a difference between a box and a fancy bottle.

Although you prefer a chardonnay, you grab a pink wine knowing that it's Sasha's favorite.

A large hand clamps down on your wrist as you're mere inches away from the box.

“C'mon, you are breaking my heart with that.” You jerk your head up to see what stranger has rudely interrupted you.

But it's no stranger.

It's Jean.

You are quite literally caught red-handed. Or pink-handed.

Despite your internal insistence that you are just friends, that you need to avoid Jean, your heart leaps with affection at the sight of him in his parka and knitted hat. Then your heart squeezes tight with guilt when you remember that you canceled on him tonight – and here you are, at the liquor store getting ready for a night alone.

“Hey, nothing wrong with box wine,” you grin in spite of yourself. You can't help smiling in his presence.

“There is everything wrong with box wine,” Jean groans and tilts his head back, exposing a glimpse of his throat. “I gotta have you over sometime and re-educate you since apparently the wine bar wasn't enough.”

You offer a noncommittal smile in return. “Anyways,” you clear your throat and give your captured wrist a pointed look. Jean releases his grip and you grab the pink box wine. “I gotta get going.”

“Oh, that's right.” Jean adjusts his winter hat, which fails to cover up his lengthening hair. “So uh – what are you up to tonight?”

“Girl's night with Sasha,” you blurt. It's the first thing you think of since she's part of the reason you're getting the pink wine.

Jean frowns. “Doesn't she have a date with Nicolo tonight? He's been telling me for weeks about this concert they're going to tonight.”

“Oh um. . . “ you trail off. Your entire body is frozen like you've stepped outside, blasted by Trost's bitter winter season. Once again, you're caught. You fumble and stutter, struggling to come up with another excuse.

The hurt flashing in Jean's hazel eyes cuts through you like the knife to your thumb. He sees right through your lie.

“Ah.” He rocks back on his heels. “Got it.” He nods and swallows. “Message received.” He turns on his heels and walks away from you.

Desperation surges through your body. You've wounded him, and you want to stitch it up.

“Jean, wait! I didn't mean -” Your protests are useless. Jean has left the liquor store empty handed.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

You make a bee line to the register to pay for your box wine.

Maybe it'll be four glasses tonight.

[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'There's a petition to ban conversion therapy in the EU' to Cas' 'I love you'. /End ID]

If you are a citizen in the EU please sign this petition:

eci.ec.europa.eu

European Citizens' Initiative

Give your support !

hey besties

I say “Jesus fuck” too much for someone who neither believes in Jesus nor fucking.

just finished season 4, crying

I’m very happy to introduce you my new button badges collection ! 🎉 They will be available in my shop very soon !! It was so good to draw everyone safe, happy and reunited ! 🥰☀️

is your comfort character also a sad pretty boy with trauma and questionable morals or are you normal

oops, kirbied my particle system