#that’s not to say i excuse his actions ofc

[sheepispink]

Hiya! I love your Simon fics!!! The fluff is so goooood!!

I was wondering if you would be ok with doing one where there’s some kind of situation (where fem reader isn’t *exactly* in danger) where reader gets insulted/followed or something by someone (she doesn’t get hurt though!!!) and Simon just loses it and is overcome with the need to protect his love?

Ofc it’s up to you!!! Pls continue writing! You’re so good! 💕💕

Thank you for all your support! Sorry for the late reply, here’s the drabble you wanted :), if you want it with a bit more comfort let me know, i can make a second part

——————

Working a desk job was far simpler than any field work, that was for sure, and working in admin was far easier too. Though, that didn’t mean it was all sunshine and rainbows there, infact a lot of people used it as an excuse to treat you harsher.

The door almost slams behind you if not for your foot slightly catching it, letting it shut silently as you drop your bag by the front door. Luckily, Simon got home before you so you can walk over to the back of the couch and wrap your arms around his neck, letting out avery loud groan. “Did you just exorcise a demon?” He grunts, making you giggle and press a kiss to his temple— you like how his eyes always instinctively close when you do that. “The demons of work, yes.”

After sliding your socks off and into the laundry basket, you patter your way over to drape your body against him, his arm quickly curling around you. “Do ya know a guy called Jason?” You ask, tilting your head up at him and he hums, his fingers coming to rest on your chin, lightly rubbing your cheek now.

“Know a few. Blonde buzzcut? Sergeant?” He watches as you nod in agreement, and then you sigh, hands settling on his arm.

“Keeps asking us to do all sorts for him, and then gets mad when we have other things in priority first. It’s just annoying.”

“Is he being rude to you?” You can only shake your head and sit upright once more— there was no time to rest when dinner had to be made, and you were still in your work clothes anyway. “Nah, he’s smart enough not to act up. I mean, if he annoys us then who will do it for him?”

Simon can only smirk at your cheekiness, standing up and tugging you upright too. “Tha’s right, come on, let’s get some food in ya.”

———————————————-

The guy was not smart enough.

“I’m sorry, we can’t tell you who's in your new troop because we have to request permission for you to access their files.” You argue, still trying to finish up other requests for at least 10 other lieutenants about far more pressing matters. Not to mention how messy your desks are right now; orientation for the new rookies starts soon and it’s hell trying to organise them all.

“This is stupid! I asked you three days ago.” He lays his palm flat on your desk, staring down at you in a way that’s almost threatening. Another woman opposite peers over, narrowing her eyes at him. “Sir, they havent finalised the details. We cant give any files without confirmation.” She insists, trying to make him back off and you silently thank her when he turns.

“Can we try to get it for you tonight?” You offer, before she strangles him— you cant blame her either, he’s being so annoying. It’s common knowledge on base how secure each process is, but he just can't seem to fathom it.

“Tonight then. And i’ll be waiting.”

—-

He follows you around for nearly the entire day.

It’s creepy, suspicious even and you sometimes try to hurry up your steps only for him to conveniently walk past you like it’s a warning of what could come. To be honest, you’re a little scared, even if you know he can't really do anything. The action alone is intimidating, especially when you’re just trying to drop some files off with officers and they laugh saying you have a ‘secret admirer’. No, that’s a man with a grudge, an anger boiling inside of him.

When you make it back to the office, your body fills with relief, since he doesnt dare to come inside before he gets chewed out again. But still, with every trip across base you watch your back, swallowing every time you see a glimpse of blonde.

The end of your workshift starts to near, and you anxiously tap your foot, looking at the email declining the permission for him to have the files. It’s clear as day, but he just cant take no for an answer.

“Give it to me already.” The sergeant scoffs, walking over as soon as the clock ticks six, standing right before your desk.

“They’ve declined the offer— i cant give it to you.” You show him the email on your screen but he just spits, like some stupid dog, his broad arms crossing over his chest.

“That’s a lie. Why wouldn't I have permission? Do you know who I am?”

“Yes but—“

“No. Tell me, who am I, missy? Come on, use your words.”

You’re at a loss for them though, staring at him like he grew a tail or something.

“What? Are you scared now? I’m pretty strong you know; i dont hit women, but..” He sneers, leaning down towards you with his teeth flashing in an ugly smile. “Who am I, Miss?”

“Wanker, that’s what you are.”

His shoulder has sharp indents from where Simon’s fingers press into the skin, bypassing the muscle like it’s nothing but jelly as he grips him. You watch in shock as the man tries to struggle only for Simon to shove his knee into the back of his legs, making him buckle.

“L-lieutenant-“ He whimpers, struggling to compose himself when the hold on him is so harsh, almost akin to how they would treat an enemy soldier. “I was just- just asking for—“

“For some directions to the nearest toilet I hope, I think you just wet yourself.”

The man visibly panics and Simon just snorts when he grabs at his pants, only to find nothing there. “Made you look, idiot.” You crack a smile, though hide it behind a cough before you start bursting into laughter at the act.

“Lieutenant Riley- surely, surely we can t-talk this out..?”

Simon pushes his hand firmly against his back, pushing the man against the front of your desk before finally letting go, standing back with his arms crossed.

“An apology.”

“I’m sorry-“

“To her, idiot.” Simon grabs him by the arm and spins him around to face you, one hand on his back as if threatening to break his jaw on that table next. “Go on.”

“I- i’m so sorry Miss..”

“Say her name.”

The man falls silent, faltering as he doesnt know your name, hell he could only barely tell you apart from the girl who worked next to you. She was now snickering behind her desk, her phone out as she sneakily filmed the whole ordeal.

“Tsk. You dont even know her name?” Simon scoffs, yanking him upright by his collar before shoving him back again. “Fine. How about i take you up on your offer, since you’re ‘pretty strong’?”

Jason squirms instantly, his throat bobbing nervously as he shakes his head over and over. “No— that was a joke, i swear. I didnt mean it like that. I just— i mean she might know me- because i’m strong-“

“No.” The word is so firm he shuts up immediately, staring at Simon who could only stare down at him. “Go get yourself in the second training room now. If I don't find you there in five minutes, you’ll be taking a very nice solo trip across the world.” Before you know it, he’s scurried off, rushing down the halls with his boots stomping against the floors.

“Bit much?” You tilt your head at your lover, though your grinning from ear to ear, clearly amused by the whole ordeal. Meanwhile his eyes soften at you, walking around to place a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Never too much. I’ll be late home tonight, put in an extra fish for me will ya?” You nod, letting his hands cup your cheeks as he checks you over, before silently glancing over the other women in the office. “Didnt touch ya, did he?” You shake your head and he hums in satisfaction, reaching back for the small box he brought you. “Came by because they had your favourite cake in stock. Bought some for the girls too, share it ‘round.”

Your eyes light up in glee as he hands you it, having not had it in months now. “Really? Thank you Si!” You hug him tight, before pattering over to where the girls have conveniently decided to have a coffee chat— aka leaving you two love birds alone.

He watches you all with a smile beneath his mask, before it curves up into something a little more sly as he thinks about what’s waiting for him in that training room. Well, he has been a little rusty recently, and the training dummies just arent realistic enough for good practice.

[qwesty-030]

Gene does not do school work because he wants to. He does school work because he feels like HAS TO. He feels OBLIGATED to do so. Gene even states it himself: albeit he’s an academically successful student, it doesn’t mean he’s interested in learning. The end result (getting good grades) is what matters to most to Gene. To me, it’s very clear that he uses grades as external validation. He uses grades to define his self-worth and identity.

This is especially true when Gene flunked his first test bc of Finny. This flunk was a very personal attack for Gene (unbeknownst to Finny). that was the final straw for Gene. THAT was the moment he saw Finny as an enemy. THATTT was the moment Gene’s “war” truly began. and the rest is just history..,,

also not to mention he literally WEAPONIZES his academic achievement to “outbest ” Finny

[bennetsbonnet]

Much has been made of Mr Darcy's "confession" to Elizabeth that he does not converse easily with strangers. It is repeatedly used to support neurodivergent interpretations of his character. And I suppose that when taken at face value, a character confessing that they do not easily converse with strangers and struggle to catch their tone or appear interested in conversation can absolutely scream AUTISM! (I say as an autistic person myself)

But this line is often taken in isolation. When considered in terms of the passage in which it appears in Chapter 31, it appears far less of a smoking gun than may initially be suspected. After some discussion about Elizabeth and Darcy's prior acquaintance in Hertfordshire, Colonel Fitzwilliam asks Elizabeth for information about Darcy's behaviour there. She readily supplies it:

'Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,' cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. 'I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.' 'You shall hear then—but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball—and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.' 'I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.'

What Darcy leaves out here is that it was he himself who chose not to be introduced to anybody. As we learn from the description of his behaviour at the Meryton assembly in Chapter 3:

Mr Darcy danced only once with Mrs Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.

Anyway, Elizabeth correctly does not buy his excuses. Not only does she respond with a cutting sarcastic remark, but she tries to bring the discussion with an end by speaking to Colonel Fitzwilliam:

'True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.'

But Darcy does not get the hint and continues conversing with Elizabeth rather than quitting while he's ahead. However, I don't believe him to be missing a social cue here. Rather, this is an exceedingly conceited man who cannot conceive that anyone would not want to speak to such a Superior Being as he and more-so, is determined to defend himself from a perceived slight against his impeccable character.

Then we come to the passage containing the oft-cited line which allegedly contains proof of his neurodivergency:

'Perhaps,' said Darcy, 'I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.' 'Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?' said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. 'Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?' 'I can answer your question,' said Fitzwilliam, 'without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.'

Once again, Elizabeth does not buy his excuse for even a single second. She's fully aware of all the advantages a man such as he will have received in society (opportunities not open to women, might I add!) and draws attention to that fact. It's a brilliant, cutting line from her and she really set that one up for Colonel Fitzwilliam to deliver the knockout blow.

Not only do we have the testimony of Mr Darcy's cousin, that 'he will not give himself the trouble,' to appear cordial to strangers, but we have evidence from Wickham too. Although after this statement, Wickham quickly goes onto misrepresent Darcy's kindness to the poor, which contradicts Mrs Reynold's later testimony, I do believe Wickham to be telling the truth (for once!) here, when he tells Elizabeth in Chapter 16:

'Mr Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while.'

Which, again, demonstrates that Darcy is capable when he wants to be. That is the crucial point. Autistic people fundamentally lack the ability to understand social cues, they cannot turn it on and off as they please because they are snobs.

So, now we come to the infamous line about Darcy's supposed social struggles, and I hope that I've provided enough context to the line to make you see that it should not be taken at face value:

'I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,' said Darcy, 'of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.' 'My fingers,' said Elizabeth, 'do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault—because I will not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman’s of superior execution.'

Again, Elizabeth is not buying his excuses for even a single second and tells him if he feels like that, maybe he should put the effort in. She has seen him in numerous social settings and been thoroughly unimpressed with his behaviour which, when you consider his rudeness to her at the Meryton assembly, she has every right to be.

So, what do I make of the line?

Well, I think it's abundantly clear that Darcy absolutely can speak to people when he wants to. Perhaps, in his mind, he struggles to make that deeper connection and make friends easily. But making friends is not always easy, it's a process you must invest time and effort into. If you do not do that, it stands to reason that you will struggle. Plus, if you hold others to ridiculous standards (as Darcy does) without recognising and fixing the flaws within yourself, you're not going to have deep, lasting friendships.

While this quote may appear to be a moment of vulnerability where he does confess a fault of his, which is astounding given his pride, personally I do not think it was not a soul-searching exercise. It was to make Elizabeth stop grilling him. It was self-serving. Although, I don't think he's entirely lying. Darcy is veeeery careful with his words and though this statement is not considered and perhaps comes out rather abruptly, it doesn't necessarily follow that it isn't true. I can imagine that it is probably something he's felt for a while, yet it is a rather desperate attempt to defend himself from a woman who sees right through him.

I think perhaps Darcy does realise that he isn't as naturally gifted as other men he knows (such as Wickham, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Bingley) when it comes to forming acquaintances. However, he looks outwards and turns that bitterness against the world rather than looking inwards, reflecting upon himself and improving his manners which would be the correct thing to do. Thankfully, he later does this, but it took him twenty eight years...

In addition, Darcy appeared to have been under the illusion that he could coast by on Pemberley's reputation... which has always worked... until he met Elizabeth. For perhaps the first time, he encounters a woman who is not awestruck by him and his reputation and delivers the rebuke that he always needed.

So, while personally I'm inclined to believe there is some truth to his statement, as Mr Darcy is many things but he isn't a liar, I think it is said in desperation. His feeling stems from him knowing what he should do, but he can't be bothered to enact it... rather than any inherent social deficiency stemming from being neurodivergent.

Although, even if he does struggle socially, it's still no excuse for the rudeness he displayed to Elizabeth! My main issue with neurodivergent readings of Darcy is when they are deployed to defend his behaviour, when they attribute his rudeness to any potential neurodivergency and when they excuse his laziness. That is an awful message! Autistic people who struggle with social cues often do not, nor should they, go around insulting others. They should and often do put plenty of effort into being considerate and polite. In fact, I think, if anything, a love of rules makes us more likely to have good manners, rather than the reverse.

Ultimately, I'm not sure this line makes Mr Darcy the sympathetic-poor-sweet-innocent-shy-boy-autistic-representation that people want him to be. In fact it makes him look even worse, if anything. On matters such as these, he is every inch the conceited proud man he was widely believed to be at the Meryton assembly. Luckily, Elizabeth is an incredibly smart woman, who doesn't fall for it and immediately calls him out on his behaviour in a way that he has never experienced before. As she should!

[fluffypotatey]

To be honest I am a huge Nalu shipper. But the thing is I want to know the difference between the way Natsu cares about his guildmates and Lucy. Like what is the obvious difference since that boy sees every as Nakama so how can we say that the wag he cares about Lucy is different?

Like even when Erza passed away? (All the way back in first season there was a segment where the guild was gathered at her grave and all) Natsu was still very reactive. Plus he was also said to be depressed even when Lisanna passed.

What's the difference between all of them and Lucy?

the fact that he stayed. the fact that before he met Lucy, Natsu wasn't one to stay in a group or even want to work with anyone besides Happy at the start of the story. hell, he was ready to just file Lucy down as "New Guildmate" once they reached Fairy Tail

but then, Lucy doesn't leave. she follows him on his mission to save Macao despite her not needing to or even really understanding everything about it. she stays and then fights with him and saves him. it's no secret that Natsu is strong and can take care of himself really well. he's been going on solo missions for years now, and no one has really stopped him, but that means he's been in a lot of sticky situations where he and Happy are on their own and have no backup. and yet, without asking, Lucy offers it

and i think this is the moment when Natsu considers that maybe it's okay to have someone there to have his back (sans Happy)

"but Natsu only needed Lucy for the next quest because of the requirements," well, Natsu also wouldn't have taken or even considered that quest if it weren't for Lucy, yeah? he was not a team player (in the picking job's sense) or really wanted other people to help him on his quests sans Happy. and then he goes and picks a job that caters to their team whilst ensuring that Lucy can't say no

or maybe i'm reading too much into it 🤷🏻‍♀️

or maybe Natsu's got horrible abandonment issues that he will latch onto people so fast (Igneel & Lisanna) but also cause him to distance himself so far when left behind (his 1st time at the guild, Lisanna's death). Erza and Gray are Natsu's closest friends after Lisanna and yet they cannot reach him when he closes himself off. and then we have Lucy, who stuck by and had his back, so who is to say Natsu didn't make some contingencies to ensure whether or not she'd join him?

but maybe it's the rose, colored ship glasses i have on

because yeah, Natsu cares for all of his guildmates. the power of friendship is his biggest motivator. when we meet Natsu, our first introductions of him is defending his guild's reputation from Bora (who was using it as a guise for human trafficking) and saving Macao. and our 1st big arc (Galuna Island), where Natsu adamantly refuses to allow Gray to use Ice Shell and sacrifice himself despite how antagonistic they've been to each other. we get Natsu 100% at Erza's defense throughout the Tower of Heaven and he is even ready to defend Wendy though they only met hours ago

Natsu is a character with a bleeding heart and cannot help but wear it on his sleeve, but we don't really see him allow others to fight his battles or have his back until Lucy comes in. to be honest, i don't even think he had his heart on his sleeve until Lucy. he still has a bleeding heart (i don't think anything could stop that), but he was not ready to be open in receiving company because he was so used to it being ripped away from him

that being said: of all the characters he interacts with, he finds Lucy to be someone compatible enough for him to start going on team missions and inviting her on them (for example, his 1st S-class mission, which he stole, he went to her house to show it to her. the fact that part of the reward was a celestial key might be a coincidence, but i wouldn't doubt it as Natsu and Happy's trump card in case she refused)

but yeah, the difference is that he stayed and didn't push her away at the beginning, but instead continued to invite her along with him to the point that doing a mission without Lucy wasn't his regular anymore. compared to the rest of the guild, of whom he spent most of his childhood with, even if he spoke to no one, they would still be around and talk to him anyway. he might not invite them on job and only challenge them to fights, but the guild is his home and a constant in his life, a constant he needs (bc heavy abandonment issues).

"okay, but he still pushed her away after he watched Igneel die right in front of him. and he left the guild for a whole year, too. so what's the difference there?" you may ask.

so 1) Natsu never thought the guild would disband. he returns to Fiore after a year and is the last to know that they disbanded. he assumed, like all the other times before and while he and others were sealed for 7 years, that Fairy Tail would still be there when he returned. he assumed that his disappearance would not impact so hard because the guild would still be around and Lucy would have the others with her

which, did not happen :)

and like, so many guild members go off on jobs, quests, or even just leave for an indiscriminate amount of time (which i, personally, believe was his rationality for leaving), so him being gone for a year was nothing! right? no harm, eh? his plan was never to be gone forever :))))

2) he just watched his father die and lost any chance of having some semblance of a long term reunion with Igneel. he literally lost one of his main driving motivations for getting stronger and taking jobs. before Fairy Tail, before anyone, it was Igneel. and to learn that a) Igneel was always with him to begin with and b) he only got to see him for less than a day after 14 years of nothing......i would feel lost too ngl

man's needed space from everybody. and he also needed comfort, but Natsu has been shown not to really be the character who asks to receive comfort (and when he does receive it, it's usually when he's already emotionally compromised). he is in the habit of shutting people out after being abandoned or losing someone close to him, with his next rationale being to "get stronger" in order to prevent what happened in the past to ever happen in the future.

anyway

what makes this different? well for one, he sent the letter only to Lucy (or it's implied since no one else is shown getting one) because of how the two spend most of their time together. even the line that goes with the panel makes it sound like Natsu is unsure on how the note will be received (maybe even hesitant? but that could be my own hopes)

and one of the 1st people he reunites with after a year is Lucy and we get such a similar parallel to the first chapter of Fairy Tail between the two as if the narrative itself is slotting them together to say "ah yes, now everything is back to normal and new journeys can begin"

but yeah, this is just a long way of saying, that Natsu does love his friends and guildmates but even when he is close to them, he kept to himself (and Happy) and sort of stayed in their orbit but always with some emotional distance because of his fear of abandonment. and then you have Lucy where he will stay for and allow her to orbit around him and he will invite to new adventures no questions asked

that's the difference

[catcatb0y]

I ran out of tag... (It's mostly like two things that end up becoming annoyingly intertwined the more the series goes on). He was only powerful when it was convenient to the power scaling, which led to him being constantly put in otherwise intensely traumatizing victim situations solely to spur the main character into saving him no matter the cost. Which normally would have only furthered his unrealistic inferiority complex (and also his fear of weakness as well as distaste for weak people given how many people VICTIM BLAMED HIM, which you'd think would only confirm his fucking bias??) which OOPS was made into a... realistic inferiority complex?? Somehow solely to show that the MC somehow managed to grow past the underdog he never fucking was, and since the fans adored this, that became his only character! Yeah, somehow THAT was his big character growth...

He went from a complex, morally grey character to UwU empty ship fodder, and the fans of the series ate it up SO much that one of the main villains (one of the only people who genuinely acknowledged the strength and horrible treatment of my silly guy) telling him 'You're useless actually, I just want to kill you to make that other kid sad lol-' is seen as his PEAK. That. That's his peak. That's the "good ol days" the shipdom romantacizes. A villain poking at his weakness and deepest insecurity is somehow the canonizing moment of the ship (and it doesn't even happen, MC gets mad at his best friend's death for three seconds and then effortlessly kicks the villain's ass, as like the shittiest cherry on top) < it only gets worse from there!

I was also a shipper back in the day, and, in hindsight, I really should have seen the whole shitshow coming, but unfortunately I went on to dedicate six years to this hyperfixation that continues to haunt me three years after I attempted to quit the fandom cold turkey. It didn't even work.

reblog this with one canon thing you dislike / think is flawed about your blorbo and/or the way they were written

[gojoest]

f!reader, she/her pronouns used, you work in the office’s sales and investment department, managing clients and closing deals, your VIP client gojo satoru ofc is down bad for you

“is he here again?” one of your coworkers whispers, eyeing the white haired man lounging in the waiting area.

“yeah”, the other replies with a nod. “he must be loaded. i mean, look at him — he’s buying land or property every other day”

“should we go see what he’s here for this time?”

a third chimes in, lowering her voice. “i already tried, but he said he’s waiting for her”

“oh, of course”, the first two say in unison, rolling their eyes. “he never wants to work with anyone else but her”

the man sitting across from them is gojo satoru — the head of the infamous and powerful gojo clan and, without question, one of the richest men in japan. he first walked into the office a month ago for a routine estate deal, but then… he saw you. since then, he’s been coming back almost daily — buying land, investing in companies, expanding his already ridiculous portfolio. but it’s never really about business, he doesn’t care about doubling or tripling his assets — every deal, every investment, it’s just an excuse to see you.

the office chatter cuts off the moment you step out of the meeting room, walking alongside a new client you had just finished discussing terms with.

“it was a pleasure meeting you” — the man says warmly, taking your offered hand but instead of shaking it, he lifts it to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “i would be delighted to work with you”

you clear your throat, not exactly pleased with his actions, and retract your hand quickly while still maintaining a polite and professional smile as you nod. “likewise”

“may i have your number? just in case any details come up?”

“of course” you reply, and the two of you exchange business cards.

as the client exits, your attention shifts to a sharp tapping sound coming from the waiting area. there he is — gojo satoru — legs crossed, one foot thudding impatiently against the floor while the other on top swings, arms folded tightly across his chest, his usual carefree demeanor nowhere to be seen. he’s clearly not pleased.

another man had just tried his luck with you, just like he once did. and chances are, just like him, that man will be back.

“i would be delighted to work with you” — satoru mutters under his breath, mimicking the client’s voice with exaggeratedly small voice. “yeah, right. my ass”

you can’t help but chuckle and walk over to him. “hello, mr. gojo”

he huffs, still pissed at the way that man kissed your hand. offering no greeting in return and no teasing grin as he usually does, he jumps straight to the point with a grumbled confession.

“you know, i’m a very jealous man”, he pauses, eyes still locked on the door your client just walked out of, before he continues — “i already don’t like the idea of that man calling or texting you”

you raise a brow as you take a seat beside him. “it’s business related”, you reply, though you’re not sure why you’re even giving him an explanation, let alone trying to calm him down.

“yeah? well, so was mine the first time, but look how that turned out”

you roll your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “you mean you buying half the city just to keep showing up here?”

“exactly” he leans back, spreading his arms along the top of the couch like he owns the entire building — which, at this point, wouldn’t surprise you. “you’re a dangerous woman. all professional and focused until suddenly i’m out here investing in organic rice farms just for a reason to see you”

you laugh. “is that why you wanted to meet me today?”

he shrugs. “who knows? maybe i suddenly care a lot about sustainable agriculture”

“you’re ridiculous”, you snort.

“and you’re unreal”, his tone a bit more teasing now. “i swear you could get on my nerves every day and i’d still thank the universe for putting you in my life”

“huh?” you blink.

“i’m serious”, he says, voice dropping low, eyes locked on yours. “you driving me crazy, making me jealous, acting like this is just business — you could keep doing that for the rest of my life. because the most beautiful woman on earth getting on my nerves? that’s an honor.” he pauses for half a second, then leans in, “but i need to make you mine — officially”

“what are you—“

before you can finish, he cuts you off. “we can go pick a ring right now” he says casually like he’s offering to go grab some coffee. “i’ve already got five jewelers on speed dial. we’ll go full sparkle because you deserve nothing less”

you just stare at him in disbelief, torn between laughing and checking to see if he’s actually joking.

“what?” he grins. “don’t look so shocked. i told you from the start that i don’t do things halfway, especially not when it comes to you”

you’re not oblivious, of course. you’ve known for a while now that gojo satoru has a thing for you. the way he always asks for you specifically, the over-the-top deals, the charming smiles paired with suspiciously timed visits — it is beyond obvious. though part of you always thought it was just a tiny, harmless crush. but now he’s suddenly talking about rings like you’ve already been dating for years and it’s the most natural progression.

okay, maybe, just maybe, calling it a tiny crush doesn’t really hold up when the man is out here casually buying half the city just for an excuse to see you.

you narrow your eyes at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. “you know, maybe before we start ring shopping we should try lunch first”

“lunch, huh?” satoru tilts his head, pretending to think.

you nod. “yeah. you know — small steps! a conversation that isn’t about land acquisitions or surprise proposals”

he leans in, his voice smug and sweet all at once. “would you freak out if i told you i already bought the ring?”

“no, you didn’t”

“yes, i did”, he says, completely unfazed. “it’s in my pocket”

[spideyhexx]

no i agree i used to be on the “coryo is just a psycho” side until i re read the book. like the whole point was that we’re supposed to feel for him the way we felt for katniss and it INFURIATES ME when i have to explain that to people

bfhdhdh yep! I was reading the comments on trin lovell’s video about tbosas and I was getting mad because I feel like a lot of them simplify it to Coryo just being psycho

[miange1]

dexter morgan x m!reader

where like reader is a pervert and stole dexters stuff to jerk off too and dexter found out n they fuck ( bottom reader ) u dont have to write it ofc if u dont wanna

DEXTER MORGAN — creep

pairing: dexter morgan x pervert male reader

including: creeping, sniffing clothes, stealing belongings, dexter is a freak(in the show too don't ignore that), stalking, blood obsessions, so ooc oh my god(like HEAVILY OOC), dexter already has feelings for reader im just too lazy to include it completely

note: i love bjork(pretend she didn't do racist actions) i never proofread. man y'all better blow ts up y'all been begging me for dexter for WEEKS.

dexter morgan, who never missed anything. not a beat, or a heartbeat. he never missed the changes in personality, never missed subtle hints, never missed when something was missing. not now, not ever.

dexter morgan, who initially thought someone had found him out(like he always does). someone was stealing his shit to turn him in, to find him out, to catch him in the act. but what would someone like that need with his underwear? his socks? ..one of his shoes? he was confused, he could easily figure out who it was because whoever figured themselves out into his house wasn't slick about it by any means.

dexter morgan, who never thought it would be you. you were always so well collected, so kind, genuinely understanding and never pissed him off much. but he hated when people went through his shit, he couldn't stand it. murderer or not, he hated it more than anything in the world. but you? pretty privilege must be real.

dexter morgan, who found himself getting off to it. found himself liking the fact that you were doing this, that you were infatuated with him on another level. it was perverted, yeah but who wasn't? just a natural human need.

dexter morgan, who would start watching you like you watched him. just way more careful. he'd take just a small peek into your window and catch you at the right moment. catch your with a button up of his in your hand, clutching it to your face as you sniffed in his scent. your hand reached down into your pants and stroking yourself shamelessly, moaning his name over and over like some prophecy.

dexter morgan, knew he could make up some cheap excuse to get into your house with your permission. you'd let him in with no excuse anyway. he was usually awkward, but confident on his own so he could get what he wanted. "uh..yeah, sure you can come over. im not really busy." you would say it and hesitate, but it wasn't a "i'm not sure" hesitation. it was an "i need you so bad" hesitation. you were nervous, and that was good.

dexter morgan, that would look around your room and already see about five of his shirts laying around on your floor. "sorry it's a mess." you'd say, settling on your bed and tapping at your thighs. "i never have people over." he'd assure you it was fine, before he allowed his eyes to lock onto a green button up. "you know, i had a shirt that looks just like that one?" your eyes snapped towards the shirt, and you gulped. "it went missing some time ago." his eyes came back to you, no longer focusing on the shirt. because it wasn't about the shirt. "really? wha— what a coincidence." "yeah. what a coincidence."

dexter morgan, who'd fuck you like he was the one stalking you first, like he stole your clothes, like he'd looked at you with such want. he was vocal, very vocal, and you just adored it. he sounded like he was just as needy as you, his moans were broken and filled with need and it was so damn perfect.

dexter morgan, who would make his scent much stronger for you. oh the way you'd melt when his scent touched your nose, the way you would be all embarrassed and hide the tent in your pants trying to work and ignore that smell. you had fucked a few times at work inside some cramped closet or the bathroom, the two of you would be as quiet as you could. shared breathes, huffing, grinding, sweat mixing from how hard and rough the two of you would go.

dexter morgan, who hated when people went through his shit. he hated it more than anything. not you though, it was okay when you did it.

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

thinking about playing with geto’s hair to help him unwind after a stressful week

the air hangs heavy, oppressive with summer's clinging humidity—a fitting backdrop to the surge in curses running rampant through japan. your days blur into an unrelenting cycle: exorcise, write reports, collapse in your dorm. you call it a blessing, a chance to strengthen your technique—but deep down you know that each mission brings you closer to the brink.

the fatigue is nothing short of infectious, spreading through jujutsu high like a virus. but this week, geto's weariness went beyond mere exhaustion—it teetered on the edge of total defeat. you and gojo had noticed it immediately, an unspoken observation of his too-polite words, dull eyes, and the barely-there smile he wore like armor.

although gojo is usually aloof when it comes to these types of social cues, his six eyes truly lives up to its name when it comes to geto. gojo notices his unfinished meals and lack of appetite, resorting to (in very gojo-esque manner) attempt to hand-feed him and offer up his most sacred sweets.

you'd teased gojo for his attentiveness, but he'd fire back that you were no better, always rushing to geto's side the moment he'd returned from a mission, dragging him along to a number of alleviating activities. you'd even made the mistake of inviting him to a smoke sesh with shoko, a decision you were still getting shit for since any invite to geto automatically extends to gojo—the embodiment of shoko's nightmare blunt rotation.

but today geto had been particularly elusive, so you find yourself messaging gojo privately to discuss your concern. unsurprisingly, gojo is a little too eager to engage...

S. Gojo | Today at 9:37 PM nd u saw how quickly he excused himself after giving his report ?? he didn't even scold me after yaga pointed out that my handwriting was completely illegible :0

You | Today at 9:39 PM sooo you knew that it was illegible? mbn to never worry about the consequences of your actions & ofc i noticed!! he seemed restless during that whole meeting

S. Gojo | Today at 9:40 PM just say ur jealous lol nd I noticed that too it was pretty distracting u think hes still on edge from the mission?

You | Today at 9:43 PM in his defense it doesnt take much to distract you i dont even think his mission was particularly difficult though didn’t he exorcise a bunch of grade 3 curses

S. Gojo | Today at 9:43 PM yeeah but remember he still has to absorb them hes trying to increase his collection i could yak rn just thinking ab it

You | Today at 9:45 PM truee idk how he does it honestly it must be rlly wearing him down tho i rarely see him now :(

S. Gojo | Today at 9:46 PM yeahhh he keeps hiding out in his room classic avoidant tendencies

You | Today at 9:48 PM astute observation dr. gojo that would imply he needs some space huh

S. Gojo | Today at 9:48 PM rightttt but

You | Today at 9:50 PM but? (i like where this is going)

S. Gojo | Today at 9:50 PM luckily space isn't in our vocabulary (i knew u would) lets go bother him :3

You | Today at 9:51 PM im alr omw to u :3

stuffing your phone back into your sweats, you begin making your way to your co-conspirator. it's pitch black outside save for the dim light of the flickering lantern hung at the dorm’s main post, but gojo’s room is only a couple doors down. you push open the slightly ajar door and are met with a tart, saccharine scent wafting from gojo’s not-so-secret stash of hard candy.

squinting forward you spot the culprit red-handed, splayed out across his bed, and likely one candy away from a sugar rush. your exasperated exhale breaks him from his sugar trance and he rolls over to prop himself up on his side, crinkling about eight discarded candy wrappers in the process.

"so nice of you to join me tonight~”

you wrinkle your nose at his lopsided grin, “gross satoru, a grown-ass man eating in his bed.”

gojo sneers peering over his glasses which are slowly slipping down the slope of his nose to retort, “and you are a grown-ass woman who still sleeps with stuffed animals so I don’t wanna hear it.”

he sticks out his bright red tongue before tossing the empty wrappers onto the floor to clear up some space. you consider pointing out the digimon plushie that's visible from underneath his bed but decide to let it slide, seating yourself next to him. you are instead much more interested in gawking at the ginormous bag of candy sitting before you.

"there's actually no way you plan on eating this entire bag yourself, right?" you eye his glossy, red-stained lips "your dentist must hate to see you coming."

“and I would happily take on that challenge but—" he pauses to lift a piece of candy wrapped in shiny gold paper, "I actually picked up this bag earlier because I noticed it has these hard candies with honey filling.”

"how considerate and out of character of you," you tease.

he pouts puffing his cheeks out defiantly, "yeah so this stays between us because I can't have you running around ruining my feared, distinguished, and carefully constructed reputation—"

"of being an arrogant asshole?" you finish.

"no silly, I was gonna go with alpha male."

he smugly turns over to lay flat on his stomach, picking out the honey-filled candies and kicking his feet that hung off the edge of the bed. ah yes, the tell-tale sign of an alpha male giggling and kicking his feet while rummaging through sweets.

"right."

you lean back onto your hands making contact with something hard beneath the blanket. upon further inspection, you uncover gojo's beloved nintendo ds littered with sailor moon stickers. you lift it onto your lap tracing a finger over the peeling edge of a bright-eyed feline luna.

gojo glances over at the movement, "I'm just about done, bring that too."

you sit upright pocketing a couple pieces of candy for yourself along with the ds while he shoves as much candy as physically possible into his grey flannel joggers. stretching your legs out you rise to your feet pulling him up by his arm along with you. you’re pleasantly surprised to be met with the soft, warm brush of his skin rather than the cold pressure that is the icy barrier of his infinity.

although you should be accustomed to gojo deactivating his infinity around you, you couldn't help but lightly shudder as the comforting warmth courses through your body. because despite your argumentative banter, you reveled in the fact that the gojo satoru was surrounded by trusted friends who made him feel comfortable enough to let go of the technique temporarily. he hums softly kicking on his slippers and rising off the bed.

now towering over you, he shifts his weight, fully intending to take a long stride toward the door—until your hand presses firmly against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“listen—y'know I love you 'toru but before we go in there I'm gonna need you to promise to dial it down about five notches—" you take a breath and press your palms together in a pleading gesture, "so we don’t overwhelm him."

you’re met with a scoff and quirked snowy-white brow, “tch I'm not stupid I know how to read a room."

you release a shaky "okay" clearly unconvinced.

he rolls his eyes swatting at your hands and looping his arm around yours to pull you forward, “now let’s go visit our sweet sugubear~” you playfully bump shoulders giddy because you’re all too aware of geto’s ability to render you both docile.

lifting a hand to tug down your beige baby tee where it had bunched up from gojo’s arm, you allow yourself to be led to geto's room.

upon arrival, you are greeted with silence and the distant droning buzz of cicadas. the soft glow from gojo's ocean-blue eyes illuminates the door, and you can’t help but admire their determined sparkle.

“suguruuuu are ya in there? we know you are so let us in loser.” he accompanies his request with a sharp, forceful knock.

you snort at this tactless approach, slipping your arm out from his to swat at the back of his head. you take a gentler approach, knocking lightly, your plea sincere.

“hey um suguru, we know it’s late but we were hoping to unwind together since we haven’t really had a chance to hang out recently and we know how tiring the past few weeks have been for you and um...well all of us and well we y'know—” you pause from your rambling momentarily, banking on gojo swooping in.

“we miss you 'ru” he finishes loudly.

you both cock your heads sideways towards the door to listen for movement and jolt back when you hear the shuffling of feet move across the floor.

you lean in towards gojo, your voice a whisper, “he’s alive.”

geto's muffled voice responds, “yes yes I'm alive, sorry to disappoint,” his voice sounds strained yet still cracks into a low chuckle. he pulls the door open revealing himself to be dressed in a baggy black sweatsuit wrapped in a thick grey blanket that's pulled around his shoulders and draped over his arms. his eyes are clouded by dark bags and his hair is strung messily around his head, his lips fixed into a friendly, albeit forced smile.

gojo, slightly amused by the disheveled geto in front of him, opens his mouth to say god knows what, but geto promptly warns, “don’t make me regret opening this door satoru.”

"so scary sugu, don't be so mean," he dramatically shivers and you can hear the pout lacing his voice. you giggle into your palm at geto's stern look and gojo tugs sheepishly at his unruly milky-white hair. he approaches the darker-haired man placing a firm hand on geto’s shoulder before continuing inside. you follow suit and hear geto's lock click back into place behind you.

gojo immediately makes himself comfortable kicking off his slippers at the foot of the bed and falling face first onto geto's pillows with a sigh. he pulls out the candy from his pocket and drops a handful beside him. you remove your slippers and neatly arrange them while geto sulks over to the bed. he sits upright next to the candy and you drop yourself beside him pulling your knees into your chest. you all bask in comfortable silence before geto is the first to break.

"already infesting my bed with your sugar addiction huh, satoru?"

"no sufogu, bwought dese fa you" his words come out jumbled from the press of his mouth to the pillows.

geto lifts a single candy to his lap and carefully unwraps it. you lean into his side and point, "these candies are filled with honey 'ru, thought they could soothe your throat some."

geto gingerly lifts the candy to his lips proceeding to gently coax out the flavor, savoring the sweet taste. he tilts his head back, eyes crinkling into a thin line and shoulders easing.

“s'good, thank you."

while he revels in the soothing effect the candy is having on his throat you shift your attention towards his hair situation.

"did we wake you? it looks like you just had the nap of a lifetime." you reach up to twist a strand of hair that somehow defies the laws of physics sticking out horizontally.

"no, not at all," his eyes soften casting downward, "sleep's been more like a privilege lately."

gojo's dumbass barrels right past any underlying message there, nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow, "s'cwazy cuz you haf the soffest bed."

as expected, geto with the patience of a saint, is unbothered by his lack of awareness, reaching out to affectionately ruffle gojo's hair, which earns him a soft, satisfied sigh.

you roll your eyes at how pliant and disgustingly submissive gojo had magically become in a matter of seconds. in turn, you thread your fingers deeper into the stringy black clump that was currently geto's hair.

"ugh there's no way you let your precious hair get this tangled, it physically pains me to look at," you clutch your chest dramatically.

geto reaches up to touch the hair in question, his fingertips lightly brushing against yours. he swallows uneasily, "it's gotten pretty bad huh."

you shoot him a sympathetic look carefully removing the hand in his hair to avoid yanking his scalp. you would never admit it aloud but there isn't much you wouldn't do for him; he's reliable, a comforting presence, and his character is unshakable. no matter how unpleasant or dismissive you and gojo could get at your worst, geto was there. so you didn't hesitate to make him an earnest offer.

"let me untangle it. I just so happen to be extremely skilled at detangling, probably from my years of experience—“ you gesture to your own hair twisting a loose curl around your finger, “—and don’t worry I make adjustments for the tender-headed, just ask utahime."

"wait who said I'm tender-headed?"

you snort and simply gesture to the ground, "just sit down here, okay?"

you try your best to mask your excitement since you love geto’s hair: it’s jet-black, long, and soft to the touch. it always smells fresh, with a hint of vanilla from his shampoo. it’s honestly attractive refreshing to see such well-groomed hair on a man.

geto silently complies, crouching next to your feet to fold up and place down his blanket before retrieving his brush from a nearby drawer. anticipating the whine of an excluded gojo, you reach into your pocket and toss his ds onto his back.

"here satoru, so you don't get bored in the next minute"

he eagerly turns over and powers on the handheld device. he is so easy to placate, if he wasn’t a gojo you would frankly be concerned for his safety.

geto settles between your legs, back against the bed, and expresses his interest, "whatcha playing there 'toru? pokémon?"

you start to nimbly section off his hair using the brush and begin working on the ends.

gojo shuffles closer to the two of you and tilts the screen so geto can get a look.

"nintendogs?" geto asks sounding exasperated and you catch a quick glimpse of a black-and-white spotted puppy pawing at the screen.

you suppress a giggle because gojo truly never disappoints and continue working your way up your section unraveling a particularly large tangle.

"try not to sound so disappointed 'ru its so fun~ its got tons of adorable doggies to play with and its harder than it looks! honestly its a lot of work."

now that absurdity earns him a laugh as you smooth down the top of your section mumbling under your breath, "yeah work."

"well I don't know about all that—but I'm glad you've discovered this month’s hyper-fixation" geto responds with a yawn.

"thank you...i think," gojo replies before quickly being distracted by the incessant yapping of his digital pets.

you take your time working through geto's hair, carefully pulling apart tangles and smoothing out ends, admiring the glossy shine reflected in the low light of his dorm. once thoroughly detangled, you brush through his thick locks while running your fingers through his bangs that don’t quite reach back far enough.

you hear a low hum when your fingers lightly scrape along his scalp so you continue your ministrations to hopefully allow him some semblance of peace. the yapping coming from gojo's direction becomes white noise as you get lost in thought admiring the silky-smooth feel of geto's hair against your fingers.

the satisfying swish of the hairbrush running from root to end sounds strangely cathartic. you note how his hair has grown considerably since the last time you had seen it completely down. it cascades down a little past his shoulders curling up slightly at the bottoms when released from the confines of the brush.

you gather all his hair back intending to indicate that you had finished until you notice a breathy rumbling being released steadily from his mouth. you peer over his head to see his eyes gently resting shut, with a tranquil expression softening his features as his lips part slightly with each slow breath.

somehow he has managed to look perfectly serene, yet impossibly striking. it was a relieving sight to see after this past week made you believe that his face had become permanently fixed into a frown.

"hey—“

you swiftly press a finger to a startled gojo's lips gesturing to the sleeping geto that had slumped into your lap. gojo quickly powers off his game and cranes his neck to get a good look at geto's face.

he stifles a laugh and wraps an arm around your shoulder, "mission accomplished huh?"

you nod contently as a warm gust of his strawberry-scented breath fans your face.

gojo seats himself next to you and begins running his fingers through geto's newly tamed hair. geto releases a long sigh and you can't help but think its awfully cute.

"bet I can do a better hairstyle than you can" gojo challenges, because of course he does. you still take him up on it though; partly because you're competitive, and partly because you want to keep soothing geto through his much-needed slumber.

you smirk at gojo before parting geto's hair down the middle. taking the left side you begin splitting it into four parts to work on a fishtail. you had always wondered how one would look on him if he ever let down his taut bun.

glancing towards gojo whose eyebrows are furrowed in deep concentration, you notice his glasses had been completely removed as he’s struggling to complete a french braid. the braid is somehow tight, loose, chunky, and thin all at once—effectively securing your victory. his pale fingers weave clumsily through one another to continue down.

gojo scowls looking dissatisfied with his work thus far and begins undoing his current progress. near geto's temple the braid had twisted awkwardly and as gojo pulled the strands apart he was met with resistance accidentally yanking geto's head back suddenly.

the motion jolts you all backward and shakes geto awake releasing a pained wince from the rough pull.

"what the fuck guys”

"gojo you had one job" you moan. gojo's white eyelashes flutter apologetically and he rubs soft circles into the spot he had just pulled.

"didn't mean to sugu"

you roll your eyes at his allergy to explicitly apologizing and shove him away from geto's head. dejected, he slowly inches himself to the edge of the bed until he slides down next to geto. he pops a hard candy between his lips that seemingly appeared out of thin air and leans his head onto geto's shoulder.

you swear you can make out a hushed murmur sounding close to a sorry. geto hums and you go back to playing with his hair. you decide to make an effort to style his hair in a way that he can achieve on his own. you lift gojo's head gently to retrieve the hair that had been trapped underneath so he can snuggle in closer, and you begin working on a half-up, half-down style.

once satisfied you make the executive decision to loop the half-up ponytail into a bun and pull out his bangs to frame his face.

geto’s voice calls wearily out, "having fun back there?" his eyes are half-lidded from dozing off, and at this point he’s completely malleable to your touch.

"I'm actually taking this opportunity very seriously sugu."

you retrieve your phone and open the front-facing camera, handing it to him. he positions it in front of his face to view the finished look.

the corner of his eyes crinkle, but you can still make out the deep violet of his irises scanning over your handiwork.

"I actually like this a lot, it looks great," he praises.

gojo cracks an eye open so he can weigh in.

"I don't hate it."

at that you flick the nape of his neck harshly and geto chuckles at the subsequent wince feeling rightfully avenged for earlier.

“so seriously how do I look?”

“pretty—“ “—handsome” you and gojo both blurt out at once.

an awkward silence follows, and you can't help but giggle at your brazen, synchronized boldness.

searching for a way to ease the tension, your eyes fall back onto the camera in geto's hand and you motion towards it to refocus everyone's attention, "well we've clearly established that you look great so don't let the photo go to waste."

you catch his lips curling slightly before he complies, extending his arm to get a better shot. gojo leans back onto geto's shoulder and lazily holds up a peace sign, his cheeks tinged strawberry-red to match his lips. you scoot forward resting your chin on geto's other shoulder, tilting your head slightly and flashing a playful grin.

“perfect, my new lock screen,” you say, giving geto’s bun one final twist.

geto chuckles, low and warm, and gives your knee a gentle pat. “well, in that case, I’m honored.” he shifts his weight, stretching his legs out, visibly more at ease than when you’d first arrived. beside him, gojo, not missing a beat, looks up, hands folded across his chest.

“but of course, I'm more honored, I'm literally the honored one”

geto looks over the image zooming in slightly, "keep talking and you'll be the one cropped out satoru."

this ignites their usual bickering and you scoff. you watch as geto’s shoulders softly shake with laughter and you swear he seems lighter, the tension of the last few weeks loosening. maybe, just maybe, things could return to normal soon.

at least, for this moment, you all felt a little more like yourselves.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I think more ppl need to see this

Yeah for real lol. That's exactly what it is with him. Not to toot my own horn too much but I believe this post I made ages ago hits the nail on the head haha

"I'm bored" is... technically true. In a sense. Personally, I think it's a very simple and vague allusion to the real problem. That thin sheet of snow coating a massive, freezing cold iceberg. Just barely obscuring it from proper view.

imo it's been a bit disappointing seeing people take to extremes with Burning Spice's character. I've seen people either woobify him, downplay or excuse his actions by saying "he's not evil! He's hurting! He's depressed! He doesn't hate people, he's lashing out because he can't internalize his pain anymore!", or just demand he be put to death immediately on sight without trial. You can like a morally repulsive character and sympathize with their issues while also acknowledging that they're repulsive and need to face justice for their crimes. Burning Spice is one of my favorite characters, I love everything about him, he's sexy as fuck, I understand why he's the way he is, I'm still happy to see his ass beat because he's a piece of shit and he deserves it lol.

Not to throw shade at "simpler" villains ofc. I love me some assholes that are assholes just because they can be. Like Jack Horner in Puss in Boots 2. But Burning Spice isn't Jack Horner and he honestly shouldn't be. The deeper, sadder, more complex reasons governing his actions suit him better than just "I'm bored fuck this shit" and nothing else ykwim

and of course, he's still wrong. Burning Spice's view of the world is wrong. Does a book begin just to end? Does a song play just to finish in a few minutes' time? No. They begin so that we may read, listen, and enjoy. So that they may make us laugh, or have us shake our heads in disappointment, or tell us some hidden truth. Make our days and lives a little more interesting than they were before. Life is beautiful BECAUSE it is fleeting. Born, grow, wither, born, grow, wither. Yes, that's how it goes. But there's so much more to those things than just what we can gather from those three words. Every day is different. Though the sun rises every morning without fail, it's never quite the same color, is it? Always a bit of a different shade of yellow, orange, red, bleeding into the sky a little differently each time. There are so many things to see and do, games to play, people to meet and love and cherish. Maybe some of those things and those people won't be here someday but that doesn't mean their existence never meant anything. We are not born to die, we are born to live. We must die for those who are to live, and live for those who have died. Regardless, we must never lose sight of the intrinsic value of all that surrounds us. Burning Spice very much did. Underneath his bitterness and anger and (not unfounded, to be fair) lamentation for the unstoppable cycle of life and death is a deep-rooted selfishness and fundamental lack of understanding and appreciation for life and other people. In the face of despair, he gave in and chose evil. He was and is wrong for doing so, regardless of why he did it. He could've stepped down. He could've just admitted he didn't have what it took to be the Herald of Change. Hell, if he really hates being alive so much, he would've committed suicide a LONG time ago. But he never did any of that; instead he chose to inflict an equal or greater suffering on everything and everyone else, even the undeserving. And for that he MUST pay. And Golden Cheese, with her personality and her experiences and the wisdom she came to attain when faced with the exact same despair as Burning Spice, is exactly the right person to make him do that

[renlyslittlerose]

Since you seem to be a cat person, this prompt might be up your alley. Nyanakin! Maybe he's always been that way or he touched something and now he's got cat ears and a tail. Obikin ofc 🙏

I think this is my third fic where Anakin touches something and it causes Issues. Boy just can't keep his hands to himself!

---

It wasn’t often that Anakin Skywalker would admit to screwing up. Sure, he’d made mistakes in his time, but he could always come up with some sort of excuse or a way to justify his actions. But this…

Well, there was no excuse for this.

“You shouldn’t have touched the artefact,” Obi-Wan said placidly.

“I know.”

“In fact, I explicitly told you not to touch it.”

“I know.”

“And now you’ve sucked the power from it dry, and for what?”

Anakin sent Obi-Wan a sharp glare. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Turning back to the mirror in the room, Anakin took in his appearance once more. Right on top of his head, sprouted out from beneath his messy curls, were a pair of very large, very awkward loth-cat ears. They twisted and turned with their own volition, narrowing in on sounds that Anakin had been unable to hear before he’d been turned. But the ears weren’t the largest offense. His eyes, one with round pupils, were now narrow slits that captured every flutter of movement and change in light, making Anakin’s head pulse with over-stimulation.

And then there was the tail. It had sprouted out abruptly the second he’d touched the artefact, causing his newfound appendage to break through his pants alongside an embarrassing ripping sound that accompany his hysterical yelling.

But it wasn’t the ears, or the eyes, or even the tail that was the worst part.

It was Obi-Wan’s reaction to it all.

Anakin had prepared for Obi-Wan to be mad with him. After all, he’d given in to his almost obsessive need to touch shiny, smooth looking objects like he was a raven collecting sparkly things for his nest. Or, at the very least, he expected Obi-Wan to be annoyed with him after he’d ruined days worth of careful research spent trying to figure out what the item did.

(Turn one into a loth-cat, apparently).

But instead, Obi-Wan just seemed amused.

Highly amused.

In fact, he hadn’t stopped giggling for a solid ten minutes. And it almost seemed to be getting worse the more Anakin started to panic.

“We should go see a healer,” Obi-Wan said between his giggles.

“No, absolutely not. That’d mean I’d have to walk down the hallway and let everyone see me like this.”

His tail kept twitching behind him, and he couldn’t stop his ears from pinning back against his skull anytime he felt a flood of anxiety.

Obi-Wan appeared in the mirror behind Anakin. His cheeks were dark red and his eyes still watery with tears, his smile hidden by his hand as he stroked his beard and pretended to be in deep thought.

“You need to get this checked out, Anakin. It could spread.”

Anakin’s thin pupils expanded. “Can that… can that happen? Could I become a loth-cat?” He touched his chest to make sure there wasn’t an additional layer of fluff beneath his tunic, before opening his mouth to inspect his teeth. “Do my canines look longer?” he asked.

Obi-Wan peered over Anakin’s shoulder and looked at his reflection. “They appear normal to me.” Coming back around, he inserted himself between Anakin and the mirror. “It’s a shame, however.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I just think it might be fun to kiss a man with sharp canines. It’d be a little dangerous.”

A flush of arousal rushed through Anakin, momentarily softening his sheer terror at the thought of turning into a loth-cat. But it didn’t last long. “What if I keep turning. Do you think I’ll remain the size I am, or will I shrink down to a normal sized loth-cat.”

“You’re worried I’ll make you my lap cat? I can’t say I don’t enjoy the thought of being able to hold you by the scruff when you’re doing something naughty.”

“Obi-Wan…”

Obi-Wan smiled gently and reached up to run the tip of his fingers along the edge of Anakin’s ear. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest. In fact, it felt quite nice, like when Obi-Wan kissed his low back…

“You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan murmured as he traced the movement of his hand. Reaching behind Anakin’s ear, he started scratching at the base, his touch firm and steady. Anakin tried his hardest not to press into the touch, but it was almost impossible, what with it feeling so good. “What about your tail?”

He made move to touch it as well, but Anakin slapped his hand away. “This isn’t funny,” he said, suddenly returning to his senses. “I’m turning into a cat.”

Obi-Wan smirked. “I think it’s quite fitting, really.”

“How do you mean?”

“You already act like a loth-cat - mischievous and bratty. You can’t be told what to do, don’t follow orders, and pretend not to hear me when you clearly can. You also once told me that you wished you could lick your own balls…”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a hiss.

He slammed his hands against his mouth and stared wide eyed as Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan started to giggle again.

There was really only two options that Anakin could see as viable. Either run away, transform into a loth-cat, and live as a stray in the lower levels of Coruscant where no one could shame him for being a small furry creature. Or, he could done a robe and head to the healers, where he’d beg them not to make a record of his visit and hope that they could save him from a life of gooberfish pate.

“Should I get you a collar with a bell?” Obi-Wan asked through another burst of laughter.

Anakin decided to run.

[kyanqiyan]

i hate when gay people are gay and solve mysteries WHY IS IT SO STRESSFUL 🥲💀😭 (<- guy who just finished ep8)

guys im watching link click (starting s2 now) and the brain worms i love when gay ppl are gay and solve mysteries

[buddiefistbumps]

sometimes i love to imagine an au where danny has a restaurant when he and steve meet, and since steve doesn't have the excuse of danny being his partner to always have him around he's always coming up with stupid reasons to just hang around the restaurant(even if he's in the middle of a case) or to invite danny(and grace once he meets her) to his house to hang out, and is just unintentionally making it very obvious that he's feelings things beyond friendship for danny and danny realizes "oh this guys repressed as hell if this is gonna move forward at all i gotta make the first move" so he does and they do get together..

and once they're together steves somehow spending even more time at the restaurant(if danny hadn't actually seen five o in action he'd be second guessing if steve even really had a job) and, because he spends so much time just watching and listening to danny be great at his job running a restaurant, he's unconsciously picked up a lot knowledge on what goes into it...and before he or danny even realizes it steve is damn near helping run the restaurant...

danny says he has to call the repair guy for one of the ovens but turns out steve already emailed them while he was at work...one of dannys cooks is sick so now he's short staffed?no problem steve knows the recipes so he can step in for the night...tourists that come in and even new regulars all just assume danny and steve have been together way longer than they actually have and opened the restaurant together.

once grace is older she wants to work there to make extra money, and danny is so happy to have his baby working with him but freaking out because jfc she's old enough to have a job when tf did that happen??? and then nahele comes into the picture and steve knows the best place for this kid is gonna be where his partner is with their own kid(because steve is graces second dad obvi)...and then its all going so smooth then ofc steve has to almost die and danny gives him half his liver and danny knows he can't ask steve to quit his job(he knew what he was signing up for when they met), but sometimes little comments slip out while they're recovering and they're both frustrated so when danny recovers and goes back to work he thinks maybe the breathing room will be good for both of them but steve ofc wants to go with him so he does obviously...then once its after hours and its just steve, danny, grace, and nahele finishing up cleaning and then eating a late dinner there, steve realizes that this restaurant has been like a second job for him since he met danny, and he almost lost it and everything that came with it when he got shot and maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if running a restaurant with his family was his only job...maybe that way he can finally get danny to change the name to Steves...

[slut4celebs]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Olivia Rodrigo x Reader

Word Count: 2,000

Trigger Warnings: jealousy (jealousy), possessiveness (I fucking love when women tell me what to do and it shows.), no real smut but it does allude to it so MDNI.

Request/Synopsis: "jealous or possessive Olivia pls 👀 (only if u want to tho ofc)" - I'll give you one better... Here is a jealous & possessive Olivia Rodrigo fic in which at an Awards show, Reader meets her favorite artist (in this case, Lizzy McAlpine) and fangirls a bit too much for Olivia's liking.

Requests are open.

She hadn't felt the strong emergence of jealousy building up from her stomach, twisting away around her heart in awhile. However, seeing her girlfriend walk through the doors and literally bump into her celebrity crush made Olivia's breath catch in her throat. She didn't realize the concerned looks of her friend's face, Tate and Conan glancing at each other when Olivia's smile faded away. She was too busy letting her brown eyes examine the situation at hand. She calculated ways to stop their conversation without causing a feud or rumors by chatty gossipers in the room. Too many celebrities tended to get into each other's business.

(Y/n), on the other hand, was in her own little world. She had excused herself from Olivia, Tate, and Conan to use the restroom. She had gotten pretty lost in the halls, and she had to ask people who she had only seen in magazines for directions. Meaningless to say, she was absolutely starstruck. She wasn't from the industry. She met Olivia on accident when the brunette spilt her coffee on (Y/n) after bumping into her on the street, and that was all she wrote after they exchanged numbers. (Y/n) still worked a job as a cashier at a supermarket as she was getting through school, completely confused on why someone like Olivia even looked her way. She was surprised when Olivia first asked her out, when they first kissed, and when they made their first public outing. (Y/n) was even more surprised when she was invited to the music awards ceremony.

Now, she was standing in front of one of her favorite singers, not knowing what to say as Lizzy McAlpine complimented her outfit. "Thanks, my girlfriend picked it out." Her cheeks flushed red, realizing that now, Lizzy probably thought she wasn't her own person. That wasn't true, though. She could pick out her own outfits. It's just, she asked Olivia to because she wanted to match her. Plus, she had no idea what to wear to an event like this. (Y/n) was a very lowkey person and didn't dress up a whole lot, unless going out with Olivia to attempt to avoid the hate- though that doesn't typically work out in her favor.

"Your girlfriend, huh? Which one is she?" Lizzy's eyes turned to scan the crowd, completely grazing over Olivia's narrowed eyes. (Y/n) smiled before moving to point out Olivia, only to see her coming their way. "Oh, cool, I know of her. Like apart from her music. She's my friend, Matt's, friend." She explained with a sweet smile. "By the way, I'm Lizzy. What's your name?" She questioned and (Y/n) could barely answer, still in a state of shock as she shook Lizzy's hand. The action didn't go unnoticed by Olivia, who finally made her way over to the two, completely abandoning Tate and Conan. With that said, the two were definitely enjoying the show from a couple feet away.

Olivia pulled on her best faux, polite smile. It was the kind she put on for the cameras. (Y/n) immediately recognized it, causing her brows to furrow. "Hi, I'm Olivia," she introduced, shaking Lizzy's hand, too. After she dropped Lizzy's hand, her arm dropped to wrap around (Y/n)'s waist. "What were you two talking about?" She needed to be a part of their conversation. It might be a bit toxic, but she was jealous. The last time she let her significant other talk to someone older than her, he left her alone and heartbroken… and a global sensation. But, with (Y/n), no good could come out of their breakup. Her whole entire world would be shattered, and she swore that she wouldn't even be able to write about the tremendous heartbreak. After all, within a couple of months, (Y/n) became her everything, and she couldn't lose her favorite ball of sunshine.

Though (Y/n) was confused about the tight grip to her waist, Lizzy seemed to realize immediately what was going on. She gave a small smile, nodding over to Olivia. "Well, (Y/n), have fun tonight. I hope to see you at more events. Olivia, I can't wait to see you perform. I'm sure you will do amazing, as per usual." She said gently before walking away to find some of her own friends that were at the event. As she slipped away, Olivia's hand dropped and she crossed her arms. The action making her look childish.

"Hey, what was that about? You interrupted her… And, I think you've just scared her off." (Y/n)'s brows were still drew together. Olivia was slightly baffled that she hadn't picked up on her jealous state. So baffled, she thought she might be able to pull off just how jealous she was feeling. However, just when she thought she would be off the hook, (Y/n) started to piece everything together. "Wait… Are you jealous? Olivia, I told you, since we've started dating, the idea of celebrity crushes are like nonexistent to me. You are my one and only crush, remember?"

Olivia sighed at the reassurance, knowing that (Y/n) was right, but that still didn't help the pit in her stomach. "Still, I didn't like you talking to her. She's older and prettier and-" Olivia was immediately cut off by a loud scoff. Now, it was (Y/n)'s turn to be annoyed.

She shook her head, narrowing her eyes at her. "Oh, come on, Olivia. You know how I feel about you. You are insanely beautiful. The most beautiful girl I know. You're kind, hot, loving, caring, funny…" She listed off all of her favorite attributes of her girlfriend. This released the jealousy still brewing in Olivia immensely. "You are the only girl for me Olivia. Now, let's go." She took Olivia's hand, leading her towards the bathrooms.

She was confused, but she followed her girlfriend anyway. After all, she would follow (Y/n) to the ends of the earth and vice versa. "Where are we going?" She questioned, waving at some people that called her name, but (Y/n)'s hurry didn't leave room for any talk. Instead, (Y/n) sped up, both of them tripping in her heels. "(Y/n), my love? Where are we going?" She asked again having not gotten an answer the first time she asked,

"I'm taking you to the bathroom. You being jealous was… kind of, very hot. And the way you gripped my waist…"

Pleasant surprise flooded (Y/n)'s body as she grinned ear to ear. Any bit of jealousy was momentarily forgotten. It was even more forgotten with (Y/n) head between her thighs, reminding Olivia whose girl she was. Olivia couldn't believe that she was able to have (Y/n) as her girlfriend. She was able to ease her worries so quickly. While she couldn't promise not to be jealous and a little bit possessive of her girlfriend, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief when she knew (Y/n) wouldn't call her crazy for her feelings, and instead; she would reassure her in ways that Olivia loved by words of affirmation and head at a music awards ceremony.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

hi! I don't know if you take requests, but if you do may I request a Tech x f!Jedi reader where they sort of acknowledged their feelings for one another during the era of the clone wars, but never really acted upon them. then after order 66 happens, they somehow reunite and ofc Tech is super happy to see her again, then on pabu his brother have to convince him to act and kiss her since neither of them know when or if they will see one another again, and he does?

thanks!

(Bad Batch) Tech x Reader: Ghost

Author's Note: Consider this a late Tech Tuesday! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,108

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, kiss

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Tech tilted his head to steal a sideways glance at Hunter through his goggles, brows furrowing over his narrowed eyes as his mind considered a million and one possibilities.

"One might say I have," he answered cryptically, not wasting any more time before pursuing the figure.

It was evident that Hunter was puzzled by the reply, but he knew better than to ignore that look in his squadmate's eyes. He reached out with his senses in hopes of noticing anything in particular.

But even he has difficulty finding something in a bustling square when he hasn't the slightest clue of what that something is.

Tech was determined to track down his target. It was only a fleeting glimpse... But he was sure he'd seen it. His brown eyes scanned the crowd of faces as he shouldered his way through in the most polite way he could in such a hurry. A chorus of, "excuse me"s and "pardon"s left his lips. He even had to utter a full apology after stepping on a bystander's foot.

Then, he saw it again.

This time, he wouldn't lose sight of it. His eyes remained locked on it- on her.

It was her, he realized.

She had joined a small crowd in the main square to observe the festival performers.

She wore dark clothes- very different from her robes.

But of course, Tech thought. She was in hiding. Obviously, she would have to protect her identity after Order 66 occurred.

Tech looked over his shoulder to see Hunter with widened eyes. He'd finally seen you too. They both locked gazes and nodded, mutually deciding to approach with caution.

For once in his life, Tech wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. The last thing he wanted was to startle you. After all, it wouldn't be unheard of for your instincts to kick in, especially towards clones.

By the time he reached you, he was even less sure.

Hunter took the liberty of greeting you simply and in a light-hearted way in hopes that you'd be put at ease.

"Fancy meeting you here," he rumbled.

Tech's eyes flickered back to you, watching as you turned around. The way your face lit up at the realization of who it was warmed Tech's heart. Your smile grew wide, and your eyes began to glisten with tears that welled up.

He waited, even as you threw your arms around Hunter in a gleeful embrace, to see if any fear or uneasiness registered in your expression. Your body language toward the squad leader showed no indication of anything other than relief and familiarity.

You pulled back from Hunter, sharing a meaningful look with your friend, before turning to Tech.

"Oh, Tech." you practically launched yourself into his arms, and he took a second to process the action before tightening the embrace. "Do you know how much I've missed you?" you whispered into his neck.

His heart fluttered at the feeling of your lips against his skin as you uttered the most sorrowed question in a barely-audible voice.

She's here, his inner voice kept saying. She's here. She's here in my arms. Nothing is going to harm her. I will never allow it.

Tech squeezed tighter, swearing to himself that he'd never let you go again. It was duty that had separated you during the Clone Wars. But now that the Republic had fallen, this duty no longer existed.

The embrace was long, but not nearly long enough. You pulled away, wiping the wetness from your cheeks with a sleeve, sniffling.

"I knew it," you said shakily, your voice breaking off into a laugh. "I sensed you when I landed. After the Order, part of me hoped beyond hope... But I wasn't sure I'd find you either way."

"Small Galaxy, I s'pose," Hunter joked. "Still, how'd you know we weren't going to..."

"Blast me to smithereens?" you finished with a grimace. "Well, this planet doesn't seem to be occupied by the Empire. I figured if you were here, you weren't likely to be under the influence of chips."

"Still," Tech spoke up again, meeting your gaze. "We could have in theory been doing recon work for the Empire. Hunting undercover. "

"I guess that was a chance I was willing to take," you said, your own gaze unwavering as it bore into his soul. A flood gate of memories opened up as he looked own into your eyes.

Suddenly, he saw you on the battlefield, standing right at his side with your lightsaber in hand, deflecting blasts. He saw you in the cockpit of the Marauder, your features shadowed beautifully by the light of stars streaking past in hyperspace. He saw you seated on a crate, the sleeve of your robe rolled up to reveal a wound that he tended to with a bacta patch. He felt you press against him as the two of you made your way through a dark cave back-to-back.

He saw your downcast expression as you waved the squad farewell after being transferred to another system to aid a fellow Jedi in the War effort.

"Hey! Look who it is!" The booming voice of Wrecker sounded over the commotion of the festival. You looked over to see him approaching with a small girl on his shoulders, and Crosshair in tow. Another soldier was following not too far behind.

"Wrecker! Crosshair!" you greeted. "Am I glad to see you!"

Wrecker set the girl down to hug you properly, and Crosshair begrudgingly accepted an embrace from you. The girl was watching you curiously. The other soldier also seemed intrigued by your familiarity with the squad.

Finally, Hunter continued with introductions. "Omega, meet ______, an ally and good friend of the squad."

He didn't dare use the word "jedi" in a crowd, not even in a place as safe as Pabu.

You hadn't expected to see her face light up in realization, as if she knew all about you.

"And this is Omega," Hunter continued. "It's...a long story. In short, she's-"

"Our sister!" Wrecker finished.

You couldn't help the awed smile as you greeted her properly. "Wow, it's wonderful to meet you, Omega."

She was beaming up at you as she stepped forward to shake your hand. "You too. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh yeah?" you shot Wrecker a humorously suspicious look. "All good things, I hope."

"Mostly," he guffawed.

"This here is Echo," Hunter said, motioning to the other soldier. He seemed to know who you were already because he saluted with his scomp arm. Touched by the gesture, you saluted back. "He joined the squad shortly before the War ended."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am," he said.

"Likewise," you replied.

Tech had been unusually silent the entire time, and you found yourself glancing his way, hoping to get a read on what might be going on inside that mind of his. His gaze was already locked on you, and his lips were pursed, a sign that he did have loads to say. The sight nearly made you laugh.

Same ol' Tech.

The group naturally made its way out of the crowd, heading for the beach so that you could all talk openly and get caught up. Each of the squad took turns recounting in their own words some of the adventures that took place after Order 66. They were beyond curious to know the events that transpired in your escape and evasion of the Empire in the following months.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were home.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"You can't stay, can you?"

The question wasn't wholly unexpected. Hunter's heightened senses allowed him to see more than what was around him. Sometimes he saw into you just a little too well.

You let out a sigh, looking out over the perfect view of the island from your spot on the porch. It was almost painful to confirm Hunter's suspicion when you were gazing at blue water shining in the sun, waiting for the rest of the squad to return to the neighborhood after their work was done for the day.

After over a month on Pabu, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

But the fact of the matter was, there was some unfinished business to take care of.

"I need to go away for a while," you admitted.

"Are you sure?" Hunter asked, brows raised. "You're safe here."

"I know." You closed your eyes, breathing the salty air into your lungs peacefully. "But there are others who aren't. I can sense it. They're lost and confused, and...afraid. They need me."

He nodded gravely. As always, he respected your judgment. He honored your sense of duty to others, despite his concern. If there was anyone who understood, it was him.

"I'll be back," you told him. "In a little while. I will return to you all."

"We'll be waiting."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Breaking the news to the others wasn't something you'd ever want to do again. Omega and Wrecker were downcast. Crosshair voiced his disapproval in his own way, flicking a toothpick onto the ground. Echo wasn't happy to see you go, but he seemed to understand. Duty to his brothers would soon to call him away also as it had before, or so he'd told you.

What you hadn't expected was Tech to fall silent. His expression didn't exactly betray frustration or displeasure, but you'd always known him to express emotion differently. After all, as you'd come to find out from the others, your departure from the squad during the Clone Wars had affected him more than he'd let on to you.

Just when you thought that maybe Tech's feelings didn't go as far as you once thought, he broke the silence.

"Leaving the safe haven of Pabu is most unwise."

The entire squad froze at Tech's version of an outburst. It wasn't a shout. It was controlled, but each word was laced with a tinge of bitterness- something you'd rarely ever heard.

At that, suddenly the others felt the need to excuse themselves, for one reason or another. Wrecker out of the blue remembered that he and Omega needed to go see Shep about...something. Echo was adamant about joining them. Hunter excused himself to finish a household chore. And Crosshair just up and walked away without a word.

When just you and Tech remained, you responded to his statement calmly.

"I know, it's a risk. But it's one I have to take. I'd hoped you would understand."

"Forgive me," he said curtly, turning his face away, putting his chiseled profile in full view. "I do understand."

Your heart broke at the sight. "Tech..."

He faced you again, an unreadable expression crossing his features. "I understand perfectly."

Before you could say anything more, he walked away.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Tech paused tinkered adamantly with the device in his hands.

He felt like an adolescent. Like some young cadet.

When Crosshair had gone his own way, seemingly lost to the squad, Tech found a way to rationalize it. When Echo departed from the squad for a time, Tech processed the shift in his own way.

Adapting was the name of the game. Tech always felt that finding a way to adapt to changing scenarios would mean a higher probability of survival for himself and the squad as a whole. Rather than wasting time trying to change things according to his own wishes, or longing for things to be different, he found the rate of success would increase immensely if he simply, "rolled with the punches."

So, why did he act contrary to that belief just now? Why didn't he simply shake your hand without so much as a nod and let you continue on your way?

Perhaps it was the environment. The peaceful planet of Pabu, where the squad lived out its days safe and sound- having long since abandoned the life of soldiers and mercenaries- brought about a softer, gentler existence. Survival was no longer something that the squad struggled with.

The lack of a need to adapt perhaps left room for Tech's true emotions to shine through- a luxury previously unheard of in his mind.

"Let me guess," Crosshair's coiled voice interrupted his train of thought. "You didn't tell her how you feel...again."

Ah, fantastic. This was just what Tech needed at the moment. A dose of his brother's difficult and unyielding character.

He adjusted his goggles, resuming his tinkering as if he was unbothered. "I fail to see how that is relevant."

"You know, if you tell her, she might stay."

Tech paused. "I do not see why she would. She had made it quite clear that her mind is made up."

"Is it now?" Crosshair leaned against the doorway of Tech's quarters, crossing his arms. "And how do you know she won't change it?"

Tech didn't reply. Perhaps his brother would give up and leave.

"She deserves to know."

...But of course not.

"What makes you say that?" Tech looked up.

"Because it's the sort of thing people do." Crosshair placed a toothpick between his teeth. "When they care about someone, they tell them. They never know when they'll get the chance to...or if."

That one sent Tech's mind reeling.

Regret. As much as he tried to distance himself from it, as it was another hindrance to adapting to the situation at hand...he knew it would be something that he'd be faced with if he left things the way he had...

But telling you how he felt? Tech wondered how he could even begin to do so. He was eloquent in matters of machinery. Science. Technology. Those were languages he spoke fluently.

Telling you that he cared for you?

Loved you?

That was a foreign concept entirely.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The time of your departure had come all too soon. The squad was gathered around your ship on a rainy afternoon to see you off.

You'd be back soon, you kept reiterating to each of them. Tech watched as you hugged Hunter, and the leader wished you well. Wrecker picked you up and spun you around. Omega, who'd come to admire you so, wrapped her arms around you in a heartfelt hug. Crosshair once more allowed an embrace, bringing his hand up to awkwardly pat your back. Echo, in his fashion, saluted you before you laughed and embraced him also.

Tell her how you feel. Tell her how you feel. Tech kept telling himself that over and over again. It didn't seem to make his next move any easier. Even with the hours and hours of thought he put into it, the task of telling you that he cared for you still seemed monumental. Impossible even.

But his brother's words rang true.

He had to let you know. Somehow.

You were standing in front of him, concern etched on your face. It was evident that his last interaction with you left you unsure as to what his behavior would be. Tech hated that he'd caused that uncertainty.

He opened his mouth, but for once in his entire existence, nothing came out. There was no spew of information. No explanation rolling effortlessly off his lips. Not even a peep.

You were waiting patiently for him to get his bearings- though your uneasiness seemed to increase.

His brain shorted out, and then suddenly everything became crystal clear. If he couldn't begin to tell you how he felt, perhaps it would be best if he didn't tell you.

Tech's resolve cemented, and he closed the distance between you with a single step. Your eyes widened as he stepped into your space, and your hand came up to rest on his chest. When it registered that there was no force behind it, that you were not trying to push him away, Tech placed a hand on each of your shoulders and leaned in.

Your expression melted before his very eyes. With no further thought to your surroundings, you leaned in the rest of the way.

Your thoughts were racing as Tech's lips pressed warmly against your own.

The determined look in his eyes had made your heart flutter. The way he'd so decidedly stepped into your space, how his hands held you in such a way that you doubted anything could move you from that spot... It was captivating.

You recalled the time when thoughts of kissing Tech were the sort of thing that used to keep you up at night.

During the War, your familial affection for the squad would have been questionable in the eyes of the Council, if they'd known. But your attachment to Tech in particular would have been considered dangerous. Absolutely forbidden.

But love is a force of its own.

You were certain of that more than ever, with Tech tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his arms sliding around your form to hold you tighter as the rain pelted you both from above.

What began as a fervid gesture rendered something softer, sweeter in the end. His lips brushed yours tenderly one last time, feather-light, as if savoring the moment, before pulling away.

You tugged him back before he got too far, holding him in an embrace as you buried your face in his chest.

"Stay."

There was no edge to his tone with the request. It broke your heart all the same to hear it.

"I can't," you whispered.

"Perhaps I can accompany you, then." There was a waver in his exhale from the chill of the rain.

"There's no need. Besides, I'll be back faster than you can say, 'Marauder.'"

"I highly doubt that you will return that quickly."

You chuckled, reaching up to wipe some of the drops from his goggles. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"This. I needed it."

The two of you parted, and Wrecker whistled jokingly. Crosshair gave Tech a nod of approval, and Echo was shaking his head in amusement. Hunter merely looked at you with a raised brow, and suddenly your shoes became very fascinating to you.

"I'll see you all soon."

"Keep us updated, will ya?" Hunter asked, giving you a nudge.

"Absolutely. Bye, everyone!" you gave one last salute before boarding your ship. As you engaged the take-off, Tech received a variety of shoulder-pats and nudges of sympathy from the squad.

And when your ship disappeared on the horizon, he found himself glued to the spot for several minutes.

"Don't worry," Hunter assured him. "She's strong. Skilled too."

"I am aware," Tech acknowledged. Another moment of silence passed. "Her engine sounded strange. Perhaps I should comm her."

Hunter chuckled, clapping his hand on Tech's shoulder. "Knock yourself out. I'm sure she'd be glad to hear from you."

[literaila]

emotions

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and megumi discuss how terrible satoru is

warnings: little spat between gojo and megumi, reader is the only sane one, lil fluff, and pining ofc

last part | next part

*

year three.

you're used to the door slamming open every day when they get home--and you've given up on scolding all of your family members about it--but what you're not used to is megumi storming through the door, his aura a dark and stormy color as he walks by you, not even bothering to look your way, and slamming the door to his room. all within a good three seconds. 

and, okay. you blink, trying to comprehend him, or what just happened. 

satoru comes in next, slower, more peaceful, shutting the front door softly like it'll make up for megumi's actions. for whatever he probably did. 

you immediately turn towards him, frowning. "what'd you do?" 

"why did i have to do something?" satoru asks, scoffing. "the kid is a glorified teenager. or an old man. he's moody." 

"yeah, but he didn't even say hi to me," you cross your arms, trying to analyze his body language and the twitch of his lips. 

satoru waves a hand at you. "join the club." 

"seriously. is he okay?" 

satoru kicks at the floor, mumbling something indecipherable under his breath. 

"satoru." 

he looks up, almost pouting. 

"what happened?" 

"i was just teasing him--" he's already pleading for mercy, taking a step towards you with his arms out. "i didn't even say anything bad. i just said something about his attitude, and he told me to leave him alone, and i... i didn't do anything!" he swears. 

and you both know that he's lying. you sigh, shaking your head at him. 

"did you listen when he told you to stop?" 

"no," satoru says, with a fake smile. 

"then you did something," you take a step away from him, watching as he slides off his jacket, then his glasses. "what were you teasing him about?" 

"he was telling me about some kids at school. i guess they're scared of him, or something." 

you raise a brow. 

his hand gestures to megumi's room, helplessly. "you know him and i like to mess with each other, i didn't think that he would... get upset." 

you almost laugh, because he looks so guilty, unknowing, and childish. and you can tell--by a mere glance--that satoru feels bad, and doesn't want to admit that. 

you snort, still shaking your head. this man is the sole cause of all of your problems. "okay, well you should apologize to him, and listen when he asks you to do something--" 

"no." 

"excuse me?" 

"will you talk to him instead?" he pleads, tilting his head at you. "you're so much better with him, and he'll listen to you." 

"satoru," you frown. "i didn't do anything. megumi doesn't need an apology from me." 

"but he's just going to yell at me," he whines, body flailing pathetically as he emphasizes this point. "and he's scary when he yells." 

"he's nine." 

satoru shakes his head. 

you flick his forehead. "honestly, all you have to do is say that you were wrong. easy." 

"i don't wanna say that," he mumbles, feebly, crossing his arms like a toddler.

you groan. "satoru--" 

"i have to go pick up tsumiki anyway. please? just talk to him? do you really want him to sit in his room all alone and be all gloomy?" 

satoru's lip twitches because he knows that he's got you there. just the idea of megumi brooding alone is enough to break you. 

you scowl at him, crossing your arms with a knowing glance. "i'm going to let megumi punch you, and then i'm going to do it myself." 

"we're not supposed to encourage violence." 

you roll your eyes. "go get tsumiki. do not be late again. i'll see how he's feeling, but we're going to talk trash about you, just so you know." 

"see? this is why i love you." satoru grins, then pecks your cheek. "okay, got to go! good luck," he says and swings himself out the door. 

and honestly, how did you get stuck with him? 

*

you give him a couple of minutes before you knock on the door, assuming that any space he has to cool off is probably good. but you can only wait so long. 

there's a worry somewhere in your chest, the fear that you won't know how to mend the rift between the two boys. but the other part of you feels easy, simple. 

kind of how you assume satoru feels about most things. 

if you can't fix it, you think, he probably can. 

"hey," you whisper, peeking into his room. the lights are off. "can i come in?" 

megumi shrugs. he's sitting on the bed, staring at the floor, looking like a forlorn statue. 

so you go in anyway, stepping over the backpack he threw on the floor and the books cascading out of it to sit next to him on his bed. 

it's actually a little hard not to laugh because even though he's grumpy, megumi is so cute. his little scrunched-up eyebrows and his pout make you want to squeeze him forever. you want to coo over him, or say something inappropriate, but you refrain. because you are not satoru, and you will never be. 

"how was school?" you ask, after you've settled in on his dinosaur sheets, watching him pick at something on his pants. 

he shrugs again. 

"wow. glowing remarks." 

megumi doesn't even smirk a little. 

you tilt your head, trying to meet his eyes. "do you want to talk?" you ask softly, trying so hard not to prod. even though you will.  

"no." 

you smile, a little. "too bad," you tell him, rolling your eyes for show, "you didn't say hello or give me my hug when you came in. talking is your punishment." 

"sorry," he mumbles. 

"i'll let it slide this time--only this time--okay, kid?" you give him a hard look and he nods immediately. you smile at him again, leaning up. "what happened with satoru?"

"nothing." 

"unforunately for you, he's a gossip so..." 

he rolls his eyes. "he was just being annoying."

"naturally. did he make you mad?" 

megumi nods. 

"did you tell him that?" 

he shakes his head. 

"okay. what'd you say when he started annoying you?" 

"to stop." 

"and then he didn't, so..." you hint, nudging him.

"i told him to leave me alone." 

"what'd he say to that?" 

megumi sighs. "he just said that i'm adorable when i'm mad." 

because of course he would. satoru is probably the worst person in the world. the sole cultivator of everything terrible. 

and, for some reason, you're kinda obsessed with him. 

"yeah," you shake your head, grumbling internally. "i'd expect nothing less from him. i'm sorry he didn't listen, though." 

megumi finally looks at you. "you are?" 

you raise your brows. "well, yeah. if you want to be left alone, then he should leave you alone." 

megumi looks at you skeptically. "you're not going to tell me that i shouldn't have gotten mad at him?" 

"um," you frown. "no. you're entitled to your emotions, megs. you can feel whatever you want." 

he frowns, too, but doesn't say anything. he's stuck somewhere you'll probably never reach. 

but you try to meet his eyes anyway. "and satoru'll be getting a lecture from me, don't worry," megumi smiles a little at that, looking a little more like the boy you're used to. "but i just wanted to tell you that you can talk about it with me, if you want. nobody understands being angry with satoru like i do." 

he looks away again. his fists clench, briefly, and he makes a sound at the back of his throat. "i just--why doesn't he leave me alone? he always teases me, even when i'm trying to be serious, or when i tell him to stop." 

you nod in agreement, letting the words sit for a moment. and then you say, "i think that satoru thinks if he never takes anything seriously, then the negative emotions and all of the things he doesn't want to think about won't matter to him. or as much."

"but they do matter." 

"they do. and if he's irritating you, you should tell him that." 

"i try." 

your lip twitches. "satoru's not the easiest person to talk to. but he's a lot like you, you know? in that way." 

megumi frowns. "how?" 

"you don't really like to talk about these things do you?" you ask, seriously. 

megumi thinks for a moment, fingers messing with the bedsheets, and then shakes his head, slowly, like he doesn't want to admit it. 

"satoru doesn't like it either. and he feels things the same way you do--very deeply, and seriously. that's why he always messes around. and why he frustrates you." you stop, thinking about how to explain this to a kid. how to explain it to yourself. "well, you know how when there's only one melon soda left and you give it to tsumiki, or when you let her pick the movie?" 

megumi nods. 

"that's your way of putting her first. because you love her. but it's different then the way that she loves you, right?"

"yeah. she says it, a lot," he rolls his eyes, familiar with the antics of tsumiki.

you smile. "and she gives those hugs where she tries to crack your ribs," you emphasize it by squeezing his shoulder, making him laugh. 

you swallow, shrugging. "you both show your love differently. everyone does. but tsumiki isn't afraid to let anyone know that she loves them, and satoru is, i think. and you're like that." 

he looks down at his lap, contemplating this. satoru might think that you understand megumi better than he does, that the two of you are easy, but you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. 

everything is so clear in your head. but you can't clarify the interworkings of someone as complicated as satoru for megumi. you can barely clarify him for yourself. 

"i don't know if that's the right way to put it..." you sigh. "well, i like to talk things out. like right now. i want to talk about how i feel, and why. that's how i process everything. but satoru doesn't do that. usually, he'll refuse to." you nudge megumi. "and that's okay, sometimes. but i think he's taught you to do the same, on accident." 

"that's not bad, though," he mutters, frowning. 

"no, not all of the time. but it also means that his emotions come out in his actions. like teasing you, or when he tries to get all of us to sleep in his room." 

megumi rolls his eyes again and you laugh. 

"there's no bad way to show the people that you love that you love them, but when you don't talk about things, or you try not to show those emotions, they get stuck." you poke his chest. "and then they break out, like today, and it's too many feelings all at once." 

megumi nods. 

"so when he's annoying you, you have to tell him. or if you need a break from him, or me, or tsumiki, you should say that." 

it's advice for all of you. some secret that you don't want megumi to know about--the part of you that's lying to him. the unspoken things you don't say--emotions buried so deep beneath your surface that they'll never see the sun. 

you can see the thoughts as they pass over his face, still dark, still stormy, but lighter now. 

eventually, he nods, meeting your eyes. "okay."

you give him a half smirk, leaning down just a little. "but you can't be mean about it, alright? i know today was hard, and satoru was pushing you, but it's still not okay to snap at him." 

megumi curls in a little. "i'm sorry." 

"i'm not mad, buddy," you assure him, ruffling his hair. "and neither is satoru. we're just here to help you, you know? but you have to let us in so we can. you can depend on us, i promise. and you have to be nice, because i can't deal with another satoru." 

he laughs, just a little. you rest your head on his. "i'm here if you want to talk about it," you tell him, "today, or anything else that's bothering you." 

"i know." 

and you feel like he does, just a little bit. he's a very smart kid, and you know that when you leave he'll think about it some more--put it into words that work for him. 

honestly, most of the time his intelligence frightens you--like you'll never be able to slow him down, or make sure that you're on the same page. but at least there's some use for it. 

you sit up. "good. now i'm going to leave you alone, but when satoru gets home and he apologizes, try not to yell at him?" you plead, only partly joking. "he's sensitive." 

megumi scowls, but nods anyway. 

you stand up, nudging his leg with your foot and then you step back over the maze of his things, turning the doorknob. 

"y/n?" 

you turn back, brows raised. "yeah, bud?" 

"do you want to... play cards, or something?" 

and finally, you laugh. just a little. 

*

"how'd it go?" 

"megumi said that he didn't like my haircut, and that i needed to review my wardrobe situation." 

"and?" 

"he's okay." 

you sigh out in relief. "good," you say, looking back down at the paperwork you're supposed to be filling out. the teaching courses, and jujutsu regulations, course handbooks, and bills... 

satoru sits down next to you, looking over all of the papers with a frown. "this is disgusting," he says, nudging your hand away from the pen you're lingering on. 

"true."

"take a break," he hooks his leg around yours. "let's talk." 

you sigh again. "we really need to get this stuff done, satoru." 

he shrugs. "we'll do it tomorrow." 

"you said that yesterday, too." 

"and i was right..." 

but you relent, and you turn so that you're sitting facing him on the couch, your legs crossed in front of you. 

"hey," he whispers, softly, grinning. 

"hi." 

"how was your day?" 

"boring. all i did was clean the house and wait for you and the kids to get home." 

he leans in, eyes crinkled. "can you imagine what your life would be like without me?" 

"not even a little bit. you take up all of my time."

satoru smiles, adoringly. he leans his forehead against yours. 

you want to push him away, or roll your eyes, or ask him more about his talk with megumi, or if he checked on tsumiki, but you don't. 

you just let a small, tired smile rest upon your lips and close your eyes. 

satoru is close enough to smell. his warmth is almost mechanical, unmoving. and everything about him feels sort of unbelievable. he's so close. close enough to touch and taste, if you were that daring. 

but you're not. 

"you okay?" you whisper to him, feeling his breath against your cupid's bow. you refrain a shiver. 

"i'm good," he says, voice soft and low. "you okay?" 

"i'm good." 

satoru nods against you. there's a whole minute where the two of you sit just like that, no need for words or movements. 

it's nice like this, you think. with him and nothing else. you don't get a break very often nowadays--and you don't mind it, really--but sitting with him is enough to not care. who needs a break when you've got your best friend, curled against you like a vice you'll never ever touch?

and then satoru asks, "do you think i mess with megumi too much?" 

"yes," you say, immediately, opening your eyes to meet his glorious blue ones. satoru is pouting, so you continue. "but he loves you anyway." 

just like i do, you think, so brief there's no time to push it away in your mind. 

"yeah?" 

"god knows why," you say, rolling your eyes, laughing when he bends down to tickle your neck with his nose, sniffing against you like a dog. 

but you do know why. and the paperwork can wait until tomorrow. 

*

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