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sorcerersseestars · 4 months

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LIMERENCE (II)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

part i here

summary: Gojo is uncharacteristically insecure and unsure to the point of double guessing himself—something practically unheard of for the self-proclaimed Honored One. Meanwhile, the ever-feared blood-laden flowers make an unwelcome appearance.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: mentions of sickness and blood, descriptions of vomiting (caution to fellow ppl with emetophobia), characters are anxious and stressed!, cussing (obvs), use of (Y/N), kidnapping!

genre: hanahaki disease au, hurt/comfort, lowkey mystery?

a/n: Here is part 2 (finally lol)! It is a whole 6.7k words (😫) to make up for not updating until now haha. This chapter features serious!Gojo and worried!Gojo 😳. It seems out of character but it’s intentional (or so I claim). Also, I kinda make a pun out of Utahime’s name—hime (姫) means princess in Japanese! Two last notes: for clarification—I use italics to emphasize things, but also for characters’ thoughts. Geto is still alive (still excommunicated tho) in this timeline. More notes at the end of the chapter!

“Hey, ‘Hime, when’s your lunch break today?”

He hears a scoff that hardly conceals the crackly laugh that follows through his speakers. Her laugh is delicate and bright, even over the phone.

“Don’t call me that, Gojo. Never been into the princess thing.”

“We’ve been over this, it’s Satoru. And what should I call you then? Hime is perfect, it’s literally in your name.”

“I’ll call you Satoru if you call me by my real name: Utahime.”

“You’re so boringgg! Come on!” He whines, pretending to pout.

Utahime breathes in sharply at his words, “Satoru…you shouldn’t say things like that.”

Gojo stops walking. His brow creases in confusion: this is how he has always behaved, with obviously facetious and playful words. Even the people that claim they can’t stand him the most, like Shoko and Nanami, recognize when his words are intentionally over the top or ridiculous. Utahime also knows this: he has not concealed this aspect of his personality from her.

He can’t stop his next words from being spoken with a twinge of annoyance. “I was kidding, you know. Is something wrong?”

Utahime sighs, “No, no. Sorry, I’m just a bit stressed since the higher-ups asked for a meeting with me. Have no idea what it’s about…”

“They did? So, you’re not free for lunch? Please say you are…”

His words feel unnatural and stilted, but he brushes the feeling aside. He’s probably just nervous since it’s her, right?

“Yeah, I’m going to my meeting in a few, but I should be able to make it. Could you get the reservation for us?” Utahime asks, tone leaning on snippy.

“Mm, maybe. What’s the magic word?” He teases with a playful tone, trying to lighten her mood. This should work, it should make her feel better. He has experience with this.

“C’mon Gojo, not now,” She groans, apparently disgruntled. “But, fine, could you please make the reservation?”

He frowns. Not exactly the reaction he anticipated.

“Okay, but next time you gotta call me Satoru,” He says with a small awkward chuckle, this time easing up a bit on his teasing tone. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, though.”

“Sure,” She snorts, but not in the way that she would if she thought it was funny. It’s a sardonic snort, rather, and he would bet money that her eyes are rolling.

A loud click signals the end of conversation, but his phone remains pressed to his ear. He lowers it slowly, a strange feeling swirling in his chest. It’s an uneasy, heavy feeling from deep down, but he can’t discern what exactly it means.

“Why would I expect that to work?” He mutters to himself. “That’s so annoying, who would tolerate that?”

Suddenly, an image flashes under his eyelids, almost making him flinch at how intensely it conjures itself. A vivid apparition of you doubled over in laughter appears in his mind. It’s a memory, he realizes: you’re leaning on him as tears part from your eyes, unable to catch your breath due to how hard you’re laughing at one of his horrible, stupid jokes.

He remembers this moment well. You had been crying for real before—quietly sniffling, trying to hide it from him. He knew that you hated crying in front of others—trying to always appear strong, he knew this feeling well—so he started direct attention away from it with the corniest jokes he could make. That’s when your tears, first full of the hurt that he could clearly see in your crumpled expression, turned into ones of relief and joy. Your eyes had sparkled with some other emotion he couldn’t identify—something familiar, something that made him feel warm in the chest, but also made him feel so, so scared.

He never did figure out what it was. Or, rather, he has tried not to dwell on it. Every time it pops into his head, he pushes it down, the fear rising in him each time he comes closer to the answer.

Utahime never made him feel like that. That must be better. He never feels scared like that when he thinks of his feelings for her. That must be better, it has to be.

He enjoys talking to Utahime. He likes that he can get under her skin with little effort, likes how easily he can get a rise out of her: and most of the time, she’s amused by it, giggling and slapping his arm. He’s never scared with Utahime, but…why does something feel wrong?

His fingers, typing in his name for the reservation, pause and begin to tremble when he sees what he typed. He typed your name. His eyes widen beneath his blindfold—he’s grateful it helps to conceal his expression, even if nobody he knows is around. In truth, this is partly why he seldom removes it; he masks his true emotions more often than not. Not that anyone suspects it, though, too convinced by his saccharine smiles and forever jocular personality.

The blue horizontal line blinks in and out of existence as his fingers hover over his keyboard. Your name, though written in normal text, appears bolded to him: it sucks his attention away from anything else on his screen. He begins to break out in a sweat.

Sweating just from their name? How pathetic…

He shakes his head, frantically backspacing, trying to erase all traces of you from his mind. He’s been trying to do this for months, ever since he began to distance himself from you. There is a legitimate reason he has been giving you the cold shoulder, but it feels like an excuse to drive away this fear that grips him when he thinks of that warmth, that sparkle in your eyes.

Fuck. Now he can’t get that image of you out of his mind—his chest aches, his breathing comes quicker, but he does not know why.

He walks almost endlessly in the town he booked the restaurant in, in a pace-like fashion. His large stature and height make the brisk pace he walks at look absurdly hurried to passerbys: they stare at him unabashedly and he barely notices.

It’s only when he checks his phone that he realizes how much time has passed since he called Utahime. His reservation is soon: he will be late if he doesn’t start walking there now. Shit.

His breath comes heavy when he finally reaches the restaurant. It’s a casual yet nice ramen place—something familiar yet suitable for a lunch date. He’s wearing a baby blue button down shirt, nice slacks, and trades in his blindfold for heavily shaded sunglasses: also suitable for a lunch date.

A date. Yes, that’s what he’s on. A nice lunch date with a girl whom he kissed before the first date. A bit untraditional, not that he would be one to mind.

He approaches the hostess, about to ask for a table for two, but then he spots a familiar red ribbon perfectly adorning the dark strands of hair she always pulls back. She’s already here, sitting alone in the corner.

Gojo sighs. Fuck, ‘messed up again.

He hurriedly stumbles over to Utahime, probably looking a bit disheveled. She gives him a questioning glance at his appearance—Gojo laughs and immediately plasters on an easy smile.

“Hey,” He says nonchalantly, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite her.

“Hey. You’re late,” She notes, but she doesn’t sound as bothered as he thought she would. “Did something happen? You look…like something happened.”

He goes along with it, sighing dramatically, “How’d you know? Yeah, Yaga was bothering me about some mission stuff. Dumb paperwork I’m supposed to do and whatever.”

She smiles, but it’s tight lipped, “Of course. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all sweaty.”

“I am?” He questions, feigning confusion, but his next words are partly true. “Ah, well, I realized I was gonna be late since he was pestering me so much. Guess I walked too fast.”

“Hmm,” Is all she says. She stirs the tea in front of her with a small spoon, expression blank as she does so.

Once he realizes she isn’t going to initiate talking further, he takes it upon himself, “How did the meeting go?”

She stops stirring. She sets down the spoon more harshly than she means to: it clangs loudly on the tea tray.

“I have some questions,” She says seriously.

“Questions? About what?” He asks.

Her dark, stormy eyes meet his. “…About you.”

He gulps, “Sure! What type of questions? You know, people ask me a lot of stuff. I’m sure I can handle anything.”

He winks at her, his usual smirk spreading across his face. Maybe if he jokes he can diffuse this god-awful tension. Not that it worked before, but he can try.

Utahime blinks slowly, exhaling deeply, as if attempting to calm herself down. He can see the fire in her eyes between blinks.

“How about that the higher-ups were asking me about my relation to you, when they believed you to only show interest in someone else?”

No. They can’t still believe that.

Terror strikes Gojo’s heart, electrifying his nerves, but he tries to play it off. He breathes out a chuckle and a few weak words, “That wasn’t a question.”

“For once in your life, be serious! We’ve only been dating for 3 weeks and I–” She inhales deeply. “I don’t think it’s a good sign that you’re intentionally avoiding answering me about this.”

“I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re talking about. Who did they even ask about? I can’t think of anyone they could say that about.” He’s lying through his teeth. Alarm bells are ringing through his head, and he dreads her answer.

She narrows her eyes, but seems convinced enough at his alleged cluelessness.

“They were asking about (Y/N). Asking about…your relationship with them. About how close you are. Asking if it’s changed.”

Gojo takes a sip from his glass, avoiding her eyes.“Well, did they say why? Seems awfully strange to ask you about it.”

She’s silent for a few seconds, mulling over her next words. They end up making Gojo bristle. “Satoru, you know I couldn’t tell you even if they did.”

His tone is abruptly serious. “The hell does that mean?”

She blinks at him slowly, with anger flashing in her dark eyes. “Gakuganji is very involved with them. If I told you, it would definitely get back to him. Who knows how he would punish me.”

"So you'd rather possibly endanger (Y/N)?" Gojo scoffs.

“Who said anything about danger?” Utahime says lowly, suspicion clear in her voice.

“Well, when the higher ups ask questions about my life, it usually isn’t just for fun,” Gojo says with a shrewd smile. “I don’t know what the hell they’re thinking so I can only assume the worst.”

“Does this really matter right now? (Y/N) is capable enough if it does turn out like that, and besides, I sorted it all out. Told them that your ‘relationship’ is fine and dandy and yada yada.”

Gojo sucks in a breath, nerves beginning to turn in his stomach. No. No! That’s not what I wanted…

Utahime doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort and continues, “You two have always been close…didn’t you have a thing for each other in high school? They have always had these eyes for you.”

Her tone is strange, gushing and gossipy yet also jealous.

“What?” Gojo says more loudly than intended as he takes in all of the information Utahime just casually dropped.

“You know, I even told them that you two were meant to be together,” She chuckles. “Funny how things work out—or, rather, don’t work out.”

Gojo’s stomach twists painfully at her insinuation—even though it shouldn’t. He likes Utahime, he’s with Utahime. Not with you. He’s not with you, he has never been with you.

“Gojo,” Utahime says suddenly. He blinks rapidly in surprise, eyes finally landing on hers. “Can we agree to be honest with each other?”

“Of course. What do you mean?” He says easily, nervously.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” She shakes her head. “You’re deflecting at every question I ask. You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

Gojo lets himself sigh this time.

He studies her expression. She’s beautiful, he has to admit. She’s beautiful, but she’s not you.

“Utahime…what is this all about?” He asks slowly.

“I should be asking you that,” She counters. “Why did you ask me out if you won’t actively participate in our relationship?”

“What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I?” Gojo responds carefully.

“But you mind isn’t,” Utahime sighs. “You’re miles away, Satoru. You always are. When you’re with me, you’re not thinking of me, are you?”

The question is so accurate that it seems rhetorical to Gojo, to the point of him not responding for many moments before he realizes she is genuinely asking him.

It’s so true and yet he physically cannot bring himself to admit to it. “I mean, I think about the higher-ups and work related stuff a lot. I’m sorry I haven’t been that present on dates and stuff, but–”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Gojo!” Utahime hisses out, tone bordering on venomous. “You’re always thinking about them. You make decisions thinking of them. I bet even when you kiss me, you think about them. Are you going to deny that?”

“Utahime…” He says softly, guilt constricting his vocal chords.

“I don’t understand you, Gojo. You asked me out and have taken me on fancy dates as if you want a committed relationship, but then your mind is always wandering away. I know that you still care for them, but then I heard from Shoko that you’ve been ignoring them for months. And then the fucking higher-ups ask me your relationship with them. Why would they ask me that and why would they even care? Something isn’t adding up. What’s really going on here?”

Gojo blinks in surprise at the depth of concern in her voice. It’s like she has already moved on from her jealousy towards you, and now is worried for you.

He must look surprised, because she adds on, “Just so you know, I’m not that sad. You’re kind of a shithead for doing this to me, but this wasn’t that serious for me. Obviously not for you, either.”

Gojo winces. Everything she has said so far has been true, but he wishes it wasn’t.

“Iori, I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t even realize that…that I was doing that,” Gojo sighs. “And to answer your question—I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I think I owe it to you. I don’t know what’s going on either, and that’s what scares me. I have no idea what they want or what they’re plotting, but it can’t be anything good.”

Utahime sits there with a small smirk on her face. When he raises an eyebrow at her expression, she just chuckles and shakes her head. “You can’t even say their name. Just how much denial are you in?”

He can’t even answer. He just sits there, a hand brushing his cheeks in order the cover the warmth the rises at the mention of the depth of his denial concerning his feelings for you.

When she realizes he isn’t going to answer, Utahime rises out of her seat. “Well, I guess I can say I’m officially breaking up with you, not that you or I really care. Just…if you need help with this, just know I’m in your corner, yeah? Unless it’s something to do with Gakuganji, and in that case my hands would be tied. Otherwise, just ask. You know, I wasn’t joking when I said I rooted for you guys in high school. That’s a fact and I can’t deny it.

You should really figure this out—for their sake. It sounds like they’re not having the best time with it. And besides, as much as it pains me to say it, you owe it to yourself after fighting against whatever feelings you have had for them for so many years.”

He doesn’t interrupt her even once, instead quietly absorbing her advice. He fidgets at the mention of his feelings for you, still uncomfortable even at the thought of them. Still scared.

“Goodbye for now, Satoru. I hope you figure all this shit out. Have a nice lunch,” She says coldly as she readies her things. Her coldness stings a bit, but what else could he expect?

“Oh, one last thing,” Utahime pauses. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me this, but I guess you’re too in over to head right now to think straight. I think I might know partly why they have taken an interest in (Y/N).”

Gojo’s gaze turns to her sharply, blue eyes bright with curiosity behind his shades. “Why? How do you know?”

“I think the higher-ups must have asked Yaga about them. I forgot until now, but they were asking me if I knew anything about (Y/N)‘s identity. And who would know better than anyone? Your nosey principal who digs deep on everyone,” She rolls her eyes, huffing out a small but humorless laugh. “Well, that should be it then. Bye, ex-boyfriend.”

She gives him one last look, then struts away with her head held high. He sincerely hopes she isn’t hurting too much, despite her very “okay with it” façade.

So it has to do with your identity? In Satoru’s view, you have somewhat of an average identity for a sorcerer. A grade one sorcerer who comes from a sorcerer family. You had not inherited your clan’s special innate technique, but you are still pretty strong regardless. There’s nothing unusual about your background, or at least to the best of his knowledge.

And yet this sickening feeling has begun to creep into his stomach, that feeling that something is horribly wrong. What he does not know is what he cannot control, and each heartbeat and breath of his feels tortured with the knowledge that you may not be safe.

Shoko won’t stop texting you, almost on the hour, despite your radio silence. It’s strange when you think about it—she has always hated texting, always grumbling that it’s going to give her carpal tunnel someday. And yet here she is, blowing up your phone with notifications.

You haven’t been to school in weeks, taking mission after mission instead. It’s very obvious that you’ve been avoiding Shoko and Gojo, but you won’t admit that.

The missions have been grueling and gruesome—your stomach turns when the curses you exorcised spring to mind. They were ghastly and frankly were some of the most mentally scarring curses you’ve encountered. So, you’ve decided to take a break.

You feel your skin crawl when you’re sitting at home doing nothing—the curses come to mind much more easily, and also thoughts of him—so you abandon being cozy for the sake of your mind. It’s cold outside, so cold that your breath greets you in a cloud with every puff of air you release. Winter has arrived, and it nips at your cheeks and numbs your extremities just to remind you.

You haven’t been coping well, and you know it. Avoiding thoughts of Gojo has not been working very well, even after physically avoiding him. You try to forget what you heard that day, but it won’t escape your mind no matter how much you distract yourself. You think of Utahime: her beauty, her quiet strength, of how she always seems so calm and collected and yet somehow always makes her voice heard. She has everything that you lack.

The skin of your face burns with envy when you think about her. And when you picture her with Gojo—her dark eyes looking into his pooling blue depths, her leaning forward and up to kiss him—your chest crumbles in on itself.

It hurts. Right now, everything surrounding Gojo Satoru hurts.

But today, you will change that. This will definitely help. You’ve taken yourself out of your apartment and straight into a place that has always lifted your spirits—the local florist.

You scour the aisles, wincing at the very romantic red roses and the bright yellow daffodils. But then something catches your eye: an array of festive bouquets.

You end up picking out a bouquet fit for the season: it features a string of cranberries, enveloped by branches of pine and pinecones, with a striped garland draped around it all. Despite all of your poisonous feelings inside, you crack a small smile at the sight.

You take it home, putting care into the beautiful and yet flowerless bouquet. You carefully mix the plant food into a vase full of cool water, cut the ends of the stems under running water, then submerge the bouquet.

It brings a sense of homeliness that you’ve been desperately missing ever since you’ve starting living on your own. It almost soothes the ache in your chest.

But, as always, reality swoops in to remind you that you cannot run from your feelings within. Within only minutes of arranging the new bouquet, you accidentally swipe at the vase. It crashes to the floor, the glass shattering everywhere, glinting beautifully as it spins through the air. The cranberries begin to bleed into the water, the impact too much for them to tolerate.

You bend down, slowly processing the collision. When you stare into the expanding pool of water, you see wild eyes brimming with pain. Brimming with heartache. It is then that you are painfully reminded what cranberries represent: a cure for heartache.

The irony is not lost on you. You begin to howl in laughter, and the voice that reverberates back to you sounds crazed.

Then, it begins. You abruptly stop breathing; you are choked, silenced, almost as if something is blocking your airway. And then your throat begins to convulse, an instinctual reaction to choking, and you have no choice but to obey your body. You stumble through the shards of glass and collapse at the foot of your toilet. You heave and heave—whatever is lodged in your throat is large, making it difficult and painful to retch up.

When you finally use enough force to hack up the offending object, you freeze at the sight in front of you. Vibrant hydrangeas the same color as his eyes float in a murky red cloud. Blue hydrangeas: a symbol of rejection and regret.

Your chest bursts in pain at the realization. You are in love with Gojo Satoru, and he doesn’t love you back.

You feel another bloom emerging from within. You shudder in fear, knowing that you have little time left. Once the flowers present themselves, death is almost always imminent.

You spend the next few hours by the toilet, conjuring a newer, more painful bouquet than the one that lays in shattered remains in your living room.

“You told them what?” Gojo exhales deeply, a sigh following his exasperated words. He pinches the bridge of his nose—a gesture uncharacteristic for someone as self-assured as him.

“That (Y/N) is important to you,” Yaga Masamichi states calmly. “Satoru, there is no reason to fret. Their intentions concerning this matter are pure.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? The higher-ups intentions are anything but pure.”

“I can sense that you are agitated,” He observes, eyebrows beginning to furrow. “But you are blinded by your bias. They first and foremost protect our community. (Y/N) is of no threat to Jujutsu society, thus they should be in no danger.”

“You don’t understand,” Gojo shakes his head. He is clearly angry, but now his nerves are showing through more: his voice is uneven and his tone has an air of desperation. “The higher-ups are out to get them. I don’t have any answers for that, even though I’ve been searching for months. I’ve had to show indifference towards (Y/N) to convince them that there is nothing between us, and it was starting to work. Why did you tell them this without consulting me first?”

A frown etches Masamichi’s stony features. Behind his shaded glasses, his eyes rake over his former student, taking in his state. Gojo isn’t one to openly show fear or anxiety, yet his breathing is audibly shaky and his fingers twitch by his side.

“I see I have made a mistake,” Masamichi concedes. “But why are you so convinced the higher-ups have ill intentions toward them?”

Gojo begins to pace back and forth in front of Yaga’s desk—also very unlike him.

“They called me to meet them a few months ago, asking what my relationship with (Y/N) is. I brushed it off at first and basically told them to stop sticking their nose into my business, but then I started to notice something.”

Gojo pauses by a window. The light streams down onto his face, illuminating his rather uncommonly stoic portrait.

“They started assigning (Y/N) missions that were labeled as second or first grade, but actually turned out to be special grade. And it can’t be coincidental—the incident rate of this happening is much higher for (Y/N)’s assignments than any other person.”

“That does seem to be true,” Masamichi comments, thinking back to reports he’s reviewed.

“No, not seem,” Gojo snaps. “That is the reality of this situation. Ever since I realized that, I’ve acted coldly towards (Y/N), distancing myself as much as possible. And guess what? No more special grade missions. Less injuries. And—”

“Satoru!” Masamichi raises his voice, pulling Gojo out of his frantic spiel. He blinks in surprise; he didn’t even realize how much or how fast he has been speaking.

“I don’t know what they are thinking or planning, but stressing like this will not help the situation. This is our world; this is how they operate,” Masamichi says, leaning forward and resting his chin on steepled fingers. “We will find a way around this.”

“It shouldn’t be like this,” Gojo says, voice rumbling deep and low, dangerously quiet.

“They are resistant to change,” Masamichi counters. “We can’t directly influence their decisions.”

“Not if they can’t make them anymore,” Satoru snorts, a dark and bitter smirk curling his lips.

“That is completely out of the question,” Yaga says firmly in a warning tone.

“Their thinking is antiquated,” Gojo argues. “I think we need a complete refresh.”

“And yours is too radical and rash. No, Gojo. I will not even entertain your idea.” Yaga says with a note of finality.

“Won’t you let me have my fun?” Gojo sighs, exaggerating his disappointment. “You’re such a drag, old man.”

Yaga almost smiles. He’s back to his normal antics.

“So, there is nothing that you can think of that would cause the higher-ups to go after them like this? I know you looked into all of your students closely even before you became principal. You must know something.”

Yaga frowns. You were his student and, as Gojo claims, he did thoroughly look into your background. But—how can you truly be thorough when the information presented is so little?

“There was little to nothing on them,” Yaga says. “Even when I tried digging further, I didn’t find much. However…there are rumors that they have made a Binding Vow.”

“A Binding Vow?” Gojo echoes back. “That’s very vague. That can mean practically anything.”

“But it’s still interesting, is it not?” Yaga says with a wry smile. “If the higher-ups have heard, we can only assume that the Binding Vow is with another entity, not with themselves. Otherwise, why would they be interested? That is assuming this is true, of course.”

“Who did you hear this from?” Gojo asks. “Someone credible?”

“I’m not sure about their credibility. And you can’t really go out and interrogate them, even if you wanted to. If you did, there would be another expectation for your visit.”

Gojo grows suspicious from his obvious attempt at a non-answer, “Yaga, who?”

He sighs, “Geto Suguru.”

There’s silence. Then, Gojo cackles—it’s a bitter and sardonic laugh, slightly crazed as well—and shakes his head.

“Of course. Of course it was from him,” Gojo continues laughing, a hand covering his face this time. “Guess you’re right—there’s no avenue for conversation there. In that case, I’ve gotta go. See ya, old man.”

Yaga bristles at the nickname, but does not attempt chastise Gojo as he walks away without waiting for Yaga’s response. It simply doesn’t work, so why waste his breath?

Gojo walks out, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. He opens his text conversation with you, fingers twitching over the keyboard. But what would he even say? The last texts are all from you, scattered over a few weeks from literal months ago. He didn’t respond to any of them. He feels the need to contact you, but how would he even start that? ‘Hey, I know I’ve been ignoring you for months, but I heard that you might have told Geto that you made a Binding Vow and I think the higher-ups know about it.’

Nope. That’s not gonna work. He swipes the texting app out of existence, then locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket.

He leans back on the pillar, resting his head while he closes his eyes. Why does everything surrounding you have to be so complicated? Then, a series of hurried footsteps meets his ears, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is. Gojo is ambushed by someone he hasn’t seen for a few days—your mutual friend, Shoko.

“I heard what happened from Utahime,” She says immediately.

Gojo exhales loudly, not even trying to conceal his annoyance, “Shoko, I really don’t have time for this right now.”

“No. Tell me what’s going on.” She says firmly, her tone hard.

“What? We broke up. What’s more to say?” Gojo says dismissively.

“No, Gojo. That’s not all there is. Things have been going on. She told me that she’s concerned for (Y/N) but wouldn’t tell me more. And it just so happens that I have been texting them just about every day for weeks and have heard nothing back. Tell me there’s ‘nothing more to say’ again! Because obviously something is going on.”

Gojo inhales sharply, his breath suspended at her words. He shifts his weight forward, finally leaning away from the pillar. Shoko takes notice of his surprise.

She sighs, deciding to clarify one detail, “They’ve still been taking missions so I assume that they’re fine…but they’ve never ghosted me like this. Even back then, when Geto…they didn’t…agh. Well, you know what I’m saying. I don’t know what they’re thinking.”

He only really gathered one thing from that. So you’re safe for now. Gojo recovers, his expression evening out into something more normal.

“Shoko, I don’t want to complicate things further,” Gojo sighs. “Too many people are already involved in this, ones I had no intention of involving. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should say anything.”

“You ass!” She shouts at him, making his eyes widen under his blindfold. Shoko never blows up like this—she’s always indifferent and sort of passive. “They’re my friend too, and I want to know what’s going on!”

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Gojo blurts out. Shoko blinks rapidly, shocked by the volume of his voice. He hates getting emotional like this, but he can’t help it when he’s so fucking worried. “I don’t know, Shoko. The higher-ups have been probing into my life, but this time– this time it’s about them, and I don’t know why they want to know. I don’t know what they’re looking for. I’m just praying every day that they stop, but then somebody else in our circle tells me that the higher-ups keep mentioning them. I don’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be good.”

She looks at him, finally noticing how…un-Gojo-like he looks and sounds. Worrying about others isn’t something that Gojo does, or at least not something he ever speaks about. He never has his brow creased like he does right now. He doesn’t bite his lip in worry, either, so why is he biting down so hard he’s almost pulling blood?

“Okay,” Shoko yields. “Okay. I believe you. I didn’t realize…I didn’t believe that you still cared so much.”

“You don’t even know,” He mutters under his breath, but Shoko still hears it. She acts like she doesn’t.

“Well, if you hear anything, tell me, okay?” Shoko asks him with a low exhale. “They’re really stressing me out.”

She pulls out a lighter and a cigarette, prepared to light up. The blinks, and the cigarette now lays on the ground, mysteriously absent from her grip.

“Fuck you,” She grumbles. “You know, that’s littering.”

She hates to say it, but her chest, heavy with worry, lightens a bit as his regular smirk spreads across his face. She feels a bit more hopeful as Gojo disappears in front of her, the wind from the teleportation blowing her hair and lab coat around furiously.

“If only you two weren’t idiots, this mess might have solved itself ages ago,” She chuckles to herself. “The densest people I know.”

Your lungs ache. You wheeze with each breath. You blink blearily, rubbing your eyes with one hand. You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep while you’ve been laying on the cold tile in your bathroom. The air is tinged with iron—the smell of your own blood curdles your stomach.

“What time is it?” You mutter to yourself, and jolt at the sound of your own voice. It’s raspy and weak; you almost don’t recognize it as being your own.

Your hands skate across the smooth tile as you try to locate your phone. When you finally do, you grab it and bring it close to your face. Your eyes, barely cracked open, ache at the bright light of your screen.

The time reads as 3:31 AM. You’ve really been here for that long? Under the time, a plethora of texts from Shoko appear. You groan and slam your phone back down on the ground, ignoring the guilt that rises from how long you’ve been flat out ignoring your friend.

I’m being just like Gojo. Your lips curl down at the realization.

You feel a wave of weakness wash over you, and you are forced to lay back down on the ground. You are half conscious, vision swimming half through dream and half through reality. You can barely think, barely process your own actions.

You feel cold metal in your hands, smooth glass under your fingers. You are tapping randomly, the light blinding you so much that you can’t open your eyes to see what exactly you’re doing.

All you hear is your own horrible breath. And then you hear a voice.

“(Y/N)? You called me?”

You blink blankly in confusion. Did you? You can only assume that you did.

“‘Guess so,” You try to say, but you can barely get it out with how sore your throat is. “Who…who is it?”

“What do you mean? You called me, silly.” They say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 3 am. Are you drunk or something?”

Why can’t you recognize their voice? Their voice sounds underwater to you. Your head is spinning so much and your ears begin to ring. Your feel yourself slipping from reality.

You hear yourself saying words, but you don’t remember thinking them.

“No…gonna pass out. Or die. Can’t tell.”

“What? (Y/N), what’s going on? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you right now.”

You swear you know that voice. It’s deep and smooth, but filled with so much worry that you barely recognize it. He’s never sounded this scared before.

“Oh, you’re…you’re Satoru,” You wheeze out. “Why? Why you?”

You’re not making much sense, you don’t think. But you can’t, not with how far from reality you are right now.

You called him? It’s just too painful, too cruel a fate, that you accidentally called the man you’re in love with and who doesn’t love you back while you’re knocking on death’s door. You cough violently and choke on the bloody petals that rise to your throat. You wince in pain and struggle to breathe.

He is bordering on panic now, but he fights to keep it out of his voice. “It’s okay, (Y/N), just tell me where you are. You’re on a mission, r-right? I’ll come get you. Just hold on.”

Confusion floods your brain. A mission? Are you on a mission? Is that why the scent of blood is clogging your nose?

Your heart beat pounds in your head, faster and faster. It’s scary just how confused you are—how do you not know where you are?

“I don’t know,” You choke out. You didn’t even realize you were crying. “I don’t know where I am.”

“It’s okay, c-can you check your phone for me? It’ll tell you your location. Just open it and–” His breathing is fast. “And check in your maps. Please. Please (Y/N), I need you to do this for me. Then–then everything will be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” You answer softly. “How do–”

You startle at the sound of a loud bang, your own gasp cutting off your words.

The door to your bathroom—that’s where you are—is knocked down, nearly missing your form where you lay on the tile.

Satoru is calling your name desperately, his voice louder with each repetition of your name. You can’t decipher any other words, but you know he’s shouting things, trying to get you to say something, to say anything so that he knows you’re okay.

A dark shape towers over you. You can’t make out who it is with your blurry vision and with how dark it is—but you are immediately intimidated by their large, broad frame.

“There you are,” They snarl. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this to happen. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

You scramble to get up, grabbing your phone while you unsteadily rise on your shaky legs. You are an inch away from passing out and you fight the feeling with every ounce of your strength.

“Not looking too good, are we?” He says, tutting mockingly. “That’s perfect. Remember what we agreed on, my dear (Y/N)?”

You stare at him blankly, no recognition in your eyes.

“Silly me! Of course you don’t remember. That was intentional, you know. A good move on my part,” He chuckles, and it’s a soft sound that juxtaposes his words. “While you’re the one who has to suffer. Don’t blame me too much, though…this is all situational. It’s not like I ever disliked you or anything. It just has to be like this.”

You hear Satoru’s voice again, and this time it sounds dangerous, “Who the fuck is that?”

Anger runs through the man’s features, and he strikes the hand that carries your phone harshly. You yelp loudly both in surprise and in pain. Your phone clatters to the ground, instantly silenced. Probably broken beyond repair.

His words are chastising and almost playful, but he is furious. “You shouldn’t talk to him anymore, (Y/N). That’s not part of our agreement.”

Then he grabs hold of you and begins dragging you out of the room. You scream loudly, kicking and punching him as much as you can as you’re moved against your will. You are a strong sorcerer, but all of your cursed energy and strength has been sapped away by this horrible disease that afflicts you. You are powerless to stop this man.

There’s one thing you were mistaken about. With the crunch your phone made as it shattered against the ground, you assumed it was completely broken. That’s only partly true: the speakers were damaged, no sound coming out, but your phone actually survived. Your microphone continued to pick up every scream and cry you made as you were dragged against your will—kidnapped. He heard every whimper of pain and every plea of yours for the man to stop! and to let you go!

Even in this state, your heart would ache if you had heard the unadulterated fear that gripped his voice as he shouted and screamed for you through his phone.

Even if you didn’t recognize the man who manhandled you out of your apartment, Gojo Satoru has no doubts about who it was. It makes his blood boil thinking about it—he’s never going to forgive him for this, even if they used to be best friends.

a/n 2: Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot!! This got a bit out of my hands, I will admit…I ended up writing some details I hadn’t planned on (and a lot more lol) 😅 But I think it actually makes it more interesting!

TAGLIST: @certainduckanchor @kawaiivillainess98 @arehzhera @starrylibras @mandysfanfics @rain-and-a-nice-nap @csillana @sup-hoes-its-me @llliissuu @hawkdaddy1111 @unoriginalidea

@dcvilxswish @angel-kyo @eliz-lovesgojo @5268r @wooasecret @timetobegone @ceronnica @torusblindfold @mo0nforme @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @dasztasha

@soapysofi @qualitygiantshoepsychic

Some of these tags didn’t work, but I hope it still tags you…Lmk if I typed anything in wrong haha. 😌

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo behavior #jjk fanfic #gn!reader #Gojo is kinda smart but also an idiot at the same time #gojo hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #angst

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foone · 8 months

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COW-BOY COWBOYS?

So here's the thing: There's a trend in furry circles of drawing cowboy cow-boys (and cow-girls). As in a cowboy (job) who is also a cow-boy (species and gender description). A bovine buckaroo¹, if you will.

and obviously I approve of this, both because I approve of visual puns and because I was working on a farm-management game that featured anthropomorphic characters... but wait, let's think deeper about what this means.

What does a cowboy DO? like, I know there's a long history of turning "cowboy" into basically America's Samurai, a wandering horse-based warrior of the old west, but their actual job was managing cattle. You know, cows².

And that gets a little weirder of a job when the cowboys we're talking about are actually cows themselves. Are... are these anthro cowboys slave-drivers? Because, I mean, okay if that's your intention, I'm not gonna say "you can't make a character who is a bad person", but it doesn't seem that's the intention. These characters are too lighthearted for that, usually.

The best explanation I can think of for the unseen cows is that this is an example of TvTrope's Furry Confusion. The cowboys are Cows, like anthropomorphic bovines, but the cows are just "cows", quadrupedal non-sapients. The cows we have in the real world.

So it'd be like if cowboys in the real world were monkeyboys, herding and managing monkeys. Weird.

isn't it weird that the word "buckaroo" and "vaccine" have the same root word? Maybe a furry world has cowboys that mainly serve to deliver inoculations to the frontier

I'm not going to get into the fact that "cow" is gendered. pretend it's not, we're not on a farm right now. At least, I'm not. You might be. I don't know your life.

#furry shitposting

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joels-shitty-puns · 7 months

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The Key To Your Heart - Track 3

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Gif creds to @bestintheparsec

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.5K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Sorry this took so long. Work :( But I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think. :) Thanks for reading!

-Pedro's POV-

The warmth of the midday sun beamed through the window as Pedro glanced nervously at his watch. 12:55PM. Finally, he grabbed his laptop and lay down on his couch with a soft *flump*. He quickly typed in "The Jazz and AllyKat show" into the search engine and opened up the website for your interview, just in time for it to begin broadcasting live. He knew you wouldn't be visible, but he would be lying if he said he hadn't been waiting anxiously since they announced it two days ago.

He was interested in hearing more about you. Hearing your voice speaking instead of just singing. Hearing the passion and levels of expression you may portray. Do you have an accent? A high or low voice? A lisp or a stutter? A rasp? You were such a mystery to him and the world, yet your shared conversation over Instagram the other day was so heartfelt. He appreciated your candor and vulnerability, especially in show business.

He couldn't figure out why… but ever since he heard your song, he couldn't stop thinking about you. There was something about you that seemed to draw him in. He was impressed with your lyrics and swooned at your voice. That voice! But with everyone contemplating who you were and who you liked, Pedro didn't want to be another one of those people, making you feel pressured. But he was certainly curious.

The video began and he listened intently, not wanting to miss a single word. When your voice chirped a hello to the interviewers and listeners, his heart skipped a beat. He swore it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. He was drawn to you and wanted to learn anything he could, so he listened, trying to keep his breathing as silent as possible to not miss it. Why am I feeling like this? We've only had one conversation. Why am I so drawn to her, especially when she's already in love with someone?… he interrogated himself.

The interview discussed your favorite color, animals, and books, which Pedro vowed to read as soon as he could get to a bookstore. You listed off your favorite films and shows. However, although you had a great taste in cinema, he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that none of his roles were on your list. Clearly it's not you she loves, so you can put that out of your head now. He should feel relief, but instead he feels hollow at that realization.

When asked who your best friend is, you gush about your guy bff. You talk about how much you love him. How cute and sweet he is. Pedro can't help but feel a bit jealous of this guy who you love so much. But he listens on, his heart perking up and bubbling over when he hears you finally explain that your best friend is your dog.

Not only does she have a dog, but he's her best friend. And the way she talks about him is so…adorable, he thinks, gushing over your shared love of the fuzzy animals. He wonders what your dog's name and breed is, but you refuse to answer that question from the interviewers, for fear that someone may recognize his name and breed, tying him to you. The interviewers make a joke on your paranoia, which you ignore and Pedro scoffs at, their lack of understanding poking a protective instinct inside of him.

The conversation suddenly rolls into celebrity crushes and his chest tightens. But before they can ask you, he hears the air horn signaling the amount of viewers. Although he's disappointed to miss the potential answer you may have given, he also feels that strange protective feeling over you again, making him feel annoyed at the interviewers, knowing your desire for privacy. His thoughts only shift into a possessive manner for a millisecond before Ally proposes the possibility of your crush potentially listening to the show. His heart and emotions are on a bumpy roller coaster and he's practically jittery at the anticipation. He's leaning in to hear your answer when the door to his house barges open and a frustrated Oscar Isaac walks in, complaining in Spanish.

Startled, Pedro slams his laptop closed and flings it towards the coffee table, nearly spilling his drink. He yells questioningly, wondering why his best friend is barging into his home unannounced. Oscar is fully in the living room now, hands on his hips and ready to rant again. But before he has a chance to continue his argument with Pedro, he squints. His eyes look to the laptop, then to Pedro, now standing and looking frazzled after jolting up from the seat. He looks at Pedro's face again, eyebrow raised questioningly, and points to the laptop. "Were you watching porn?"

Pedro is dumbfounded, and if he wasn't on such high alert, he would've thought to lie and say he was watching porn. Instead he blurts "NO, I was not watching porn." It sounded like a lie. Oscar looks again from the laptop to Pedro, noticing his flushed cheeks and giving him a once over from head to toe, looking for any tells, other than the blush and the panic. "Yeah right, you slut. Let's see then."

Oscar reaches for the laptop, and Pedro grasps for it too, just a second behind. Too slow. Pedro argues "I wasn't. Not that it should matter, seeing as I'm in my own HOME… alone. Or should I say previously alone." Pedro throws his hands up in frustration. Oscar just laughs. "Okay let's see what you're so interested in then, that you don't even hear me knocking on your door or trying to contact you." He cracks open the computer.

"You're watching…an interview?" Oscar looks at Pedro, confused at why he would be so wigged out over a talk show. "I told you," Pedro replies, pointedly. Oscar glances back at the computer again, his brow suddenly relaxing and his lips turning into a mischievous smirk. "Ohh. I see… This is that girl you defended in your interview, huh? Someone got a little crush?"

Pedro rolled his eyes and scoffed, trying to push away the warmth grazing his cheeks. "No. I don't have a crush. I was just looking for something to do and saw it pop up on my page…" Pedro rambled on, "plus it's just curious how much she's keeping a secret, you know? Everyone is wondering about these things." Oscar listened, amused, and Pedro continued. Please stop talking, Pedro thought to himself. "Plus I don't even know her. A crush? That's ridiculous."

"She doesn't know that guy in her song either and she managed a crush… and you defended it," Oscar said matter-of-factly. Pedro rolled his eyes, and Oscar continued. "Are you hoping her crush is on you?"

Pedro sputtered out a quick answer. "Please. She sounds young... it's probably on someone like Harry Styles. Why would she have interest in an old man like me?" Oscar patted Pedro's shoulder. "You're too hard on yourself." Pedro ignored him and continued, "plus you know how I feel about relationships."

"Yeah yeah…" Oscar continued in a mocking tone, hand pretending to be a sock puppet while he recited, "I don't have the time to properly grow a relationship, I don't want to get hurt, I'm focusing on my career…" Pedro ignored his mocking tone and simply agreed with the recitation. "Yes… now… Why did you feel the need to barge in here unexpectedly?"

"It wouldn't have been unexpected had you checked your messages. I texted you four times and even messaged your Instagram when I didn't get a reply," Oscar defended.

"You know I'm not a texter," Pedro disputes.

"Yeah, no shit, abuelito. How many messages are unread on your phone? 600?" Oscar banters.

Pedro hastily defended himself. "No! I call them back! And abuelito!? Really?" He tuts. "You're not far behind me, pendejo. Plus you know I never check my Instagram messages either. I hardly even log on. You should've called me instead."

"I did. Twice. Anyway, I wanted to see if you were still available to watch the kids later. Buuuut, after not hearing back, I just decided to check on you. Glad to see you're alive, and clearly just distracted." Oscar wiggles his eyebrows.

Pedro crosses his arms, ignoring Oscar's last remark. "Yes, of course I'll watch the kids. Go enjoy yourselves!"

"Thanks P. You're the best… and I know I'm picking on you, but I just want you to be happy. I think if you like this girl you should try and talk to her. Dust off the cobwebs of your Instagram and actually message her or something."

I already have… Pedro thinks, running his thumb across his bottom lip. "Thanks, man."

Oscar left with a friendly pat on Pedro's shoulder. "See you later tonight then with the kids!"

Upon closing the door, Pedro sped over to his laptop again, hopeful that your interview hadn't ended yet. Fortunately for him, it was still recording. He hoped he hadn't missed anything.

The interviewer named Ally spoke. "Nice try. You know who we're trying to find out about. Has he, the man of your dreams and star of your lyrics, contacted you at all? Will we see a romance blooming?"

Pedro's heart pounded so loud he feared he would miss your answer. If she says yes… his mind entertains, not knowing the answer to the rest of that thought.

You spoke, hesitantly, and he felt the protective urge creep over him again. He wanted to know the answer but he hated hearing you uncomfortable . "I uh… I have received a lot of messages, some of them from celebrities."

He swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat.

The interviewers replied excitedly. "Yeeeeaaaah?????"

There's a long pause. The silence is deafening, apart from the booming timpani of Pedro's heartbeat.

You answered, so softly he almost missed it. "Yes. We've talked."

He stopped breathing.

"Did you tell him it was him? Did you admit you love him?"

"Absolutely not. It was just a nice conversation," you laughed.

We had a nice conversation…

"Will you tell us who he is? At least a description? An initial?" Jazzy asked, desperate for answers.

Ally chimed in "anything! We're starving here."

You giggled before answering. The most beautiful laugh he's ever heard. "I won't do that much, but I will say… he has brown curly hair... Gorgeous brown eyes… And he seems really funny and nice."

I have curly brown hair and brown eyes.. maybe it could be me, his heart offered the idea. I try my best to be funny and nice too.

It could also be Tom Holland. Or Dylan O'Brien. Or some other young actor, his self-doubt chimes in. But he also knew based on your eye color descriptor, that it wasn't Harry Styles, shutting down his earlier guess.

Ally lets out a huff. "That's a pretty broad answer but I guess it narrows out a few people.."

"Well we have another surprise. A way to narrow it down a little more…" Jazz proposes.

"Oh? What's that?" You replied. Pedro could hear the nervousness in your tone.

Jazz continued "I asked our tech to work his magic, and he managed to pull a list of our viewers during the highest number of people tuning in…"

Pedro's heart picked up speed.

"Then, since he's so good at working a computer, he was able to filter it further, running the names through the web and pulling out any celebrities. We have a list here and all you have to do is read through and say if he's on the list of viewers. The only ones who would know are the three of us. Of course if he's watching, he will also know if he's in the running or not."

You stuttered out, "o-okay.."

There was a long pause on your end while you read, and Jazz and Ally filled in the space with chatter.

Pedro sat, waiting nervously for your answer.

"Uhm… no. None of these names.." you finally answered.

His heart sank. It wasn't him. You didn't love him.

"That's disappointing," Ally answered. "I had really hoped he was listening. I'm sorry. I thought when we filtered through the viewers with our celebrity listener filter, we'd have some luck."

"It's okay.. he's probably busy or something.." you answered, though your disappointment was hard to hide. "Maybe he will listen later when he has time."

Pedro was logged in on his account. His name would've been on that list, and you just confirmed, without calling him out personally, that he wasn't the one you loved.

The interview soon ended and he closed his laptop with a sigh, flopping back onto his couch. He had hoped to message you and tell you he watched the video. But now he didn't see the point in it. You already knew he watched it, and you probably didn't care. He closed his eyes and eventually decided to try and ignore his feelings. You don't even know her. Don't be stupid. It's just a crush.. a stupid, hopeless crush..

Looking out the window, Pedro noticed the sun setting outside and glanced at the clock on his stove. Realizing Oscar would be back soon with the kids, he decided he needed to snap out of it. Put on a happy face before babysitting duty. He began straightening up the house and getting things ready before finally turning on a cartoon movie just in time for them to arrive.

Oscar greeted him, and sat the kids in front of the movie. He knew his friend well enough to see through his smile and know he was upset about something. But he also could tell Pedro needed some space to sort things out in his mind first before he was ready to talk. So he left the kids with a profuse thank you, and headed out the door, leaving Pedro alone with his thoughts and two small bundles of energy.

Unbeknownst to Pedro, you looked through the list of celebrity viewers, scanning for his name. But thanks to his friend's intrusion, at the time that they filtered the list, he was disconnected from the live video. He wasn't on the list you saw.

Kept busy with the kids, it wasn't until they were back home with their parents that Pedro was forced to think about his feelings. Maybe he would still message you either way. You probably needed more friends and allies in this business, and he did enjoy talking to you, even if he wasn't the one you loved. If you didn't want to form a friendship with him back, that was fine too. But he would try. Still, his disappointment was settling in his heart. He didn't realize how much he was starting to care about you until you said he wasn't on that list.

So with the shared belief that neither of you cared about one another, you both went to bed, you both felt heavy in your hearts, and you both couldn't help but feel light tears spilling onto your cheeks as sleep eventually took over.

Equally unknown to you, he was watching, and he planned to watch it again when the video was posted, just to hear you talk a little bit longer. Just to learn more about you. Learn the tiny personality quirks he could pick out from your voice. Things that make you who you are, until maybe he could meet you in person.

That's all for this chapter!! Thank you again for reading and let me know what you think.

Looking for the next chapter? Here!

Taglist: (Let me know if you want in!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal rpf #a! wrote a fic #rpf #key to your heart

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lydiablackblade · 8 months

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Lately I came across some comments here and there more or less saying David is now old and was kinda disgusting and basically not a good Crowley anymore.

First. Bitch please... Really. Are you insane? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Second. During the first watch of season 2 I found myself wondering "When tf did David get age like that?" But then I went through his recent videos and I figured, well, he didn't. Obviously he's not 30 anymore but as good-looking as ever.

But you have to admit there's something with him in this season. And I think this is intentional and especially noticeable in the last two episodes. DavidCrowley looks tired. Like... all the time. Worn-out. Worried.

He said they craved themselves a peaceful, fragile existence. I guess the emphasis is on fragile. He never knows when will it fall into pieces. He is always looking back over his shoulder, prepare for the worst, to protect his angel. I think he hasn't have a good sleep since the Armagedon't, so basically for years, not just because he's living in his car, but because he's is sleeping one eye open. And he couldn't let himself the luxury to tell this to Aziraphale, who's seemingly living the best time of his life (he's not). Crowley drinks six espresso in a shot, for someone's sake. And that was even before he came to know about Jim. He cannot let himself to calm down or be off-guard, because Hell is, well, just around the corner (kind of pun intended). They are traitors and forgiveness is only Aziraphale's favourite thing, not the Head Offices'. Shax pops up unexpectedly anytime. I think there were even other hellish ambassadors before her, she seems to be so new on Earth, cannot imagine she's been doing it for years now. Heaven is still, but we all know they are for a long game.

And he is exhausted, even I say haunted by the liftetime of terror he experienced both in Heaven and Hell. He was tortured. Punished. Not only once. He cannot forget that not only his existence is endangered but also his angel's. When he said to Jim he remember so very well when Gabriel told to Aziraphale to shut his stupid mount and die already... how he was scared to death and jumped back when he first met Jim/Gabriel in the bookshop... He is deeply traumatized. Has kind of PTSD.

And in the end he is tired of pretending and denying. This is a weight he cannot carry anymore. He's done. They are solving an emergency and new one is already on the way. It is never-ending story. He's so done with that shit.

And I think this is what someone may see as something is odd with David. No, it's not David, it's Crowley. The lights, the shooting angles, his skin tone, everything are stressing out his wrinkles, his furrows. It's is all about to show how burnt-out Crowley is. Or will be very soon. Caused by the fear and, I'd even say, by the loneliness.

Poor thing, I want to hug him so much.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #ineffable husbands #crowley #good-omens #aziraphale and crowley

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custardcrazy · 1 year

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A Ted jealous fic pleaaaase! reader and/or him being jealous, or both, whatever you prefer :)

tenaciously uptight

summary: for the longest time, you thought you were the only jealous one. but soon, you realize your feelings for your best friend might not be so unrequited. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 4.3k

A/N: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT OH MY GOD. thank you for requesting. im so sorry. please let me know if there's any glaring errors i barely beta-ed this

You were aware that your best friend wasn't the most observant guy, but seriously; he was completely and utterly unaware of anything even slightly related to romance.

After all, he never noticed whenever anybody sent longing glances in his general direction. He never picked up on any hidden intentions when people batted their eyelashes at him or asked for his phone number. And he certainly didn't understand the fact that most, if not all of the people who wanted to hang out with him or just spent time with him in general found him attractive. How could they not? A tall, broad-shouldered golden retriever who didn't have a mean bone in his body was repulsive to few.

However, you knew him very well and his self-esteem … was in the gutter. For many reasons, most of which were a certain individual parent who you preferred to leave unnamed. And that was mostly the reason why, even though he could pick up on whenever someone was flirting with someone else, he couldn't get a clue when somebody took interest in him.

Even though you were very patient with him, and appreciated him dearly, sometimes you wished that he would just get a single clue. You were used to being the one who watched from afar as he was flirted with -- as girls shamelessly looked him up and down and pretended to be interested in Van Halen or Kiss (pun not intended) in order to segue the conversation to more intimate topics. It wasn't anything new, but you still couldn't stop the thing with claws and fangs which tore at your chest whenever it happened.

You knew that you couldn't do much else, even when you had felt something for Ted since the sixth grade; which was funny to look back on, because he was always asking for a spare pencil from you, and somehow, when you were twelve, that was cute. Ever since he hit his growth spurt, you'd been dealing with the immeasurable amount of jealousy that came with having feelings for a boy who was sometimes oblivious to the extent where it seemed he was blind.

There had been a couple hints here and there over the time that you'd known him. That maybe he reciprocated all of the mishmash of stuff that you harbored for him. It wasn't enough, though.

(Were you really going to ruin everything you had over an awkward hand brush that one time at the movies?)

Nowadays, you both worked at the Pretzels 'N' Cheese booth in the mall, which was an excellent strategy for being able to hang out while simultaneously earning money. And it was true that your clothes always picked up the smell of cheese and stayed that way until thrown in the wash, but it was worth it. Way better than working at American Eagle, which always attracted the catty middle-aged ladies. At least you could pacify them briefly with an excessively salty pretzel.

Since it was summertime, there were more than enough mall-goers looking for unhealthy snacks to waste their money on.

Occasionally you saw people you vaguely knew from high school, in various states of panic or otherwise. It was weird at first, but you'd gotten used to it. Today was no exception.

Tyler McClellan (who had somehow been in all of your English-related classes) hadn't changed much. He was still blonde, mullet-ed, and smiled too much, but it was better than him just being plain rude, so you didn't mind.

What you did mind was the way he was leaning over the counter towards you, acting as if Ted wasn't there at all.

"So, uh," he said, grinning like he was being real smooth. "Been a while. You come here often?"

"I work here," you answered politely. "Are you going to order anything?"

He ignored your question. "Y'know, you haven't changed in the slightest."

"Oh, cool." You tried again. "Can I get you anything?"

Yet another failure. "Kinda sucks that we're both bumming around San Dimas, huh? I've been thinkin' about heading down to the beach." Tyler ran a hand through his hair for the third time in the span of roughly two minutes. "Catch a few waves. Weather looks good." Wiggling his eyebrows in a move that would've only worked in a terrible romantic comedy, he leaned even closer -- if that was possible. "It'd be pretty dope if you could come along."

You snuck a look at Ted, seeing if he was possibly going to intervene or anything before you shut Tyler down; he met your eyes before quickly glancing away.

Huh.

Well, he'd never liked confrontation.

"I'm not interested." Keeping your tone clear, you sincerely hoped that Tyler and his hopeless baby blue eyes would go somewhere else and maybe flirt with Hannah who worked at Claire's instead. "Please. Do you want a pretzel or not?"

He looked at you for a moment, but you held your ground.

And finally, gradually, to your relief, his shoulders sagged, and that ever-present smile slipped off his face. "... Okay, okay." He straightened up, stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his jeans. "One pretzel. No cheese or salt. Please."

He paid in a couple crumpled bills, and slouched off somewhere else; not even bothering to say a simple 'thanks'.

Ted was still quiet.

"Um." Awkwardly, you looked over at Ted again after putting the money in the register and making sure you didn't give Tyler any extra pennies. "You okay? He's gone now, I think."

Your words seemed to shake him out of whatever reverie he'd entered while you were talking with Tyler. "Oh! Uh." His hand automatically flew up to scratch the back of his neck. "... Sorry, dude. Yeah, I'm good." Another weird thing -- he was religiously avoiding eye contact, where he'd normally be focused intently on what you were saying. You were skeptical at best as to if he was telling the truth, but didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So you dropped it. "Alright."

For the rest of your shift, Ted was … tense? Stiff. He eventually eased up a little, once you asked him about his and Bill's progress on marathoning all of the low-budget slasher movies they'd rented, but there was still a hint of something there, in the way he kept fidgeting with his hands. Again, you didn't mention it. Maybe he was just uncomfortable because of Tyler's presence.

You couldn't blame him.

But later, when you were both making sure neither of the machines had leaked cheese onto the floor; he brought up the topic again.

"Dude, stop me if this is weird, or boundary-pushing, but… " He gently rolled his shoulders, as if he was shrugging off a jacket. "Did you actually wanna go hang out with that dude?" There was something in his voice that you were, unfortunately, familiar with. Vulnerability. But, unlike the other times, you couldn't exactly place why.

"Y'know, just wondering," he added.

You squashed your curiosity down in favor of a disgusted expression. "Ew, no way. I barely know him -- or knew him at all." Dismissively, you waved a hand. "He's not my type, anyway." The exact opposite of it, actually.

"Oh." He paused.

"I'm … gonna go wash my hands."

And with that, he practically darted off to the tiny employee closet, too fast for you to mention that there was no trace of anything on his fingers.

You stood there for a moment, bewildered at his sudden escape. Maybe he just wanted space or something -- but, still, you had absolutely no idea what was going on. It wasn't like he was hard to read. But you just didn't know why he was acting so … skittish.

Thankfully, when he finished "washing his hands", everything looked like it was going to go back to normal. He laughed aloud when you cracked a joke about that one time Bill spilled a metric ton of cheese on the floor.

About two minutes later, you were both sitting in the van. It was a short ride from the mall to your apartment, which you "shared" with an acquaintance who was basically never there. You didn't know exactly why, but you got the gist of it from the fact that she always came back either inebriated or hungover. At least she did her laundry.

Noticeably, Ted wasn't strained like before. Seemed like your admission concerning Tyler made him less nervous. He let you fiddle with the radio for a little while before settling on a channel.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot you liked this kind of music, dude!" He beamed, having to shout over the sound of the wind whistling through the window; the air-conditioning had been busted for the longest time. "Stellar!"

It wasn't too long until the van pulled up outside your apartment complex. Making sure your keys hadn't fallen out of your pocket, you hopped out. Just before you shut the van door, you offered a smile to Ted.

"Thanks for the ride. See you later."

"Wait!"

You paused. "What?"

He still had a hand idly on the wheel, but you noticed he was clutching it a little tighter. " … We're still on for tomorrow, right?"

Right. Every Friday since forever had been movie night. He didn't often clarify it with you, since it was an unspoken thing. Even if Ted's memory wasn't the best, he always remembered.

You gave Ted another curious look. "Yeah. Of course."

"Cool."

There was an awkward pause, before you filled it in again. "Cool. Uh, yeah, see you." Shutting the van door, you didn't linger long before walking up to the door of your apartment complex, mind whirling a little faster than usual.

If you claimed that you didn't think about Ted's behavior later in the evening, when you were shoving some leftovers in the oven or when you were getting ready for bed, then you'd be a huge liar.

The next day was uneventful at best for the most part, since it was your day off. You were usually a bit antsy before hanging out with Ted, nothing out of the ordinary for sure. But this time, there was something else alongside the typical restlessness. Not being able to specifically pinpoint what this something was made you even more restless, which wasn't fun.

At around seven, the familiar van pulled up. You'd already been waiting -- summer evenings in San Dimas were nice and cool, unlike the unrelenting heat that arrived in the afternoon.

Bill waved at you from the driver's seat, rolling down the window. "C'mon!"

He was maybe a bit more of an aggressive driver than his taller counterpart, but the route to their apartment hadn't changed. As per usual.

"Dude." Drawing out the 'u', he smirked. "Listen. Ted rented a bunch of these cheesy forties movie musicals --" Bill snickered to himself, " -- can you believe it? Never in the history of mankind would I have expected a genre such as that one to be selected for our movie nights, much less by Ted."

"I mean, it's kind of a nice change from the terrible gory flicks you guys watch all the time." You were mostly indifferent as you watched houses and other assorted buildings cruise by through the window. "Well, yeah, still kind of surprising, though. But it's good to have a change of pace, right?"

Your mind abruptly conjured up an image of Ted dancing in a smart black suit and matching top hat, a la Fred Astaire.

"True," was Bill's thoughtful reply.

Luckily, just like the drive to work, it wasn't too long to Bill and Ted's apartment. The second you stepped in the door, you were engulfed by an aroma of incredible, delightful, microwave popcorn. Ted waved semi-wildly at you from his comfortable seat on the couch, already sinking into the horde of different, brightly-colored pillows. A large bowl of what you'd smelled earlier was sitting in his lap.

Without any fanfare, you walked over and plopped down next to him. He smiled brightly. "Hey!"

"Hey yourself." You reached over his lap to grab a handful of popcorn, and he moved the bowl a little closer to make it easier for you to do so.

A long sigh drifted over from Bill's general direction. "C'moon. Why do I always gotta be the one to put in the tapes?"

"No one said that you had to, dude."

"I don't see you getting up to help." He shot a look at Ted, who grinned innocently.

"I'm totally stuck under this most hefty bowl of popcorn."

Bill narrowed his eyes at you next; you just shrugged in response.

"You both suck," he declared, but moved to get the tapes anyway.

A bit later, all of your eyes were glued to the small screen, and all of the popcorn was pretty much gone. The first movie to be chosen was about halfway through, and still, the tune of the catchy titular song was stuck in your head. You had assumed that was the point.

"Do all babes fall for dudes who help them turn off the lights?" Questioned Ted aloud.

"It has to be more complicated than that," insisted Bill. "I have learned from experience that the process of woo-ing is not just. Like. Being able to reach up to switch off a chandelier or whatever."

"Right, but who knows?" You chimed in. "Some people really like acts of service."

"Acts, plural," came Bill's defiant assertion. "Nobody's that easy."

"I dunno, dude," chirped Ted. "I would be totally flattered if somebody turned off the lights for me."

"Well, yeah, you become deeply infatuated with various babes on sight," shot back Bill.

You were suddenly glad you had an excellent poker face.

"That's different," pleaded Ted. "You know, everyone has those sorts of things, right? Little crushes?" He sounded embarrassed. "Well, you can't really use that as an example! That is totally underhanded of you."

"You cannot deny the intense attraction and infatuation you feel for certain babes on sight," recited Bill solemnly. Suddenly, his focus was on you. "We both know that for sure. Right?"

"Uh." You faltered. It was the truth. But something inside you refused to accept it, which was both infuriating and yet another validation of your feelings.

"Yeah, I guess," you settled for. But you quickly added, "he's kind of matured since high school, though."

"That's what I'm saying!" Burst out Ted, and you were glad that the bowl was nearly empty, as he would've sent it all flying in the air. " 'Sides, Bill, weren't you the one makin' eyes at the sales lady at the record store the other day? You sure looked infatuated, all from the fact that she helped you to find that Ozzy record -- "

" -- even you admitted you found her cute -- "

"Dude, shut up!"

You let them bicker for a little while longer, until you couldn't hear the dialogue over their petty arguing. And then, an intervention was necessary.

"Okay! Okay."

They both fell silent, and you were glad. "Who cares if you're both easy or not. I think, personally, I would also be at least kind of flattered if someone helped me out with a chore or something. It's polite."

Bill just pouted, looking back at the television. Ted turned slightly to face you, looking curious.

"So … If a dude helped you with your laundry or something, would you take interest in him?"

You didn't interpret it as anything other than a genuine question.

"I mean, since laundry is boring, I'd definitely get a good opinion on him. It takes more than that for me to, like, seriously consider dating a guy." Like maybe always remembering your birthday, and giving you little special homemade gifts he made himself. Or like listening closely to everything you said. Or maybe giving you his jacket on a chilly day; disregarding himself even though you could see the goosebumps on his gangly arms, or …

Man, you had it bad.

Ted nodded in that distinct way of his. "Gotcha."

"Would you find it attractive?" You asked, surprising yourself.

He didn't seem bothered, though. Just a little sheepish. "I suck at doing laundry, you know that. So yeah, I'd probably be. Like. A little interested, at least."

"Yeah."

The movie was pretty good for the rest of its runtime, and there wasn't much conversation that passed between the three of you. By the time the credits rolled, you heard either of them stifle a yawn.

For a moment, all of you just sat there. Then, slowly you and Ted turned to look at Bill.

He threw his hands up in the air. "Are you kidding me?"

The rest of the night passed in a near-blur, and before long, Ted was rummaging through the cabinet of their tiny bathroom, looking for the spare toothbrush. Bill was probably already fast asleep; around one, during yet another dramatic tap-dancing scene, he'd dozed off, and it had taken a bit of effort to wake him up and get him to bed. He'd always slept like a log.

"So," you said, from your perch near the sink. "What'd you think of the movies? Better than Cujo?"

"Oh, dude, that particular film is an experience." He was crouched on the floor, but looked up in order to make eye contact with you. "But, I don't think I can compare 'em. They're too different -- all-American movie musicals versus B-movie slashers."

"True."

A few seconds later, Ted let out an 'aha!' as he found what he'd been so doggedly searching for. "Think fast!"

You fumbled for the neon green toothbrush he tossed at you, but managed to not drop it. "Thanks."

With a bit of effort, he got to his feet, then stretched; you politely averted your eyes from the way his old tee shirt rode up his stomach.

"What'd you think?"

Pausing from where you were squirting toothpaste onto the bristles of your toothbrush, you thought it over for a moment. "Pretty decent and enjoyable in general. Obviously cheesy at some points, but that's kinda the novelty of it all." You smiled. "It's not called the Golden Age for nothing."

"I agree wholeheartedly," he replied.

Strangely, he was lingering. Usually he just left you to do whatever you needed before you settled down on the couch, but even after you finished splashing water on your face, he was still by the doorway.

"Something up?" Turning to face him, you leaned back on the counter, ignoring how it dug into your back a bit uncomfortably. "Still thinking about that little debate with Bill over easiness?" You couldn't help but tease.

The combination of the late hour and the fact that it was just you two, in relative close proximity, made this feel intimate, almost; like you were the only two people on Earth. Since the apartment wasn't in the more populated areas of San Dimas, the only occasional sound outside was the revving of a car engine or the rare hoot of an owl.

"Well, kinda." Averting his gaze for a moment, his hand found a familiar place on the back of his neck, "but, um, not really. I just … "

You waited patiently, and he eventually picked up the sentence again. "I just wanted to, uh. Ask you another question."

"Why didn't you ask me earlier?" It slipped out before you could stop it.

"I … I didn't want to," he said, and you thought that was it, but then; "not in front of Bill. He would probably never let me forget it."

"Oh?" Both interested and nervous, you looked at him imploringly.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Um. Yesterday, you mentioned that dude wasn't 'your type', and then like, a couple hours ago you said you liked acts of service, right?" He kept barreling forward. "So I'm just, like, curious -- "

"What is your type?"

Your first instinct was to find it funny. All that build-up, for a simple question like that? But then, the truth hit you; you couldn't be completely honest when answering it. And normally that wouldn't be a huge problem, but guilt was slowly creeping up on you. You never had lied to Ted, and you didn't want to start now, just to protect your own dignity or whatever. Disregarding the fact that Ted had somehow remembered a one-off comment you'd made, you hastily put together an adequate response.

"Well, uh," you started, "you know I'm not too picky, but what I really look for in a relationship is being able to support each other, no matter what. Always being there for one another. Always being able to remember what makes them happy and what doesn't." Exhaling slowly, you felt oddly … Exposed. "And being able to make each other laugh. That's all. "

He didn't respond for a few seconds, but then,

"Did you find him funny?"

You were caught utterly off-guard. "What?"

"Tyler."

Another case of avoiding eye contact, and you were worried.

"What? No!" Dumbfounded, you didn't notice that you were repeating yourself. "Ted, I told you that I wasn't interested in him at all. Why're you bringing him up now?"

"I just wanted to know," he said, shrinking in on himself a little, "you know, you could've said yes, he's real good-looking -- "

"Why does that matter?" Cutting him off, you shook your head. "I'm gonna answer that myself. It doesn't! He was being a huge creep, there's no way -- "

" -- I know you'd like to go to the beach, dude -- "

" -- no, I didn't, that'd be really inconvenient, you -- "

" -- you didn't have to feel forced to say no just 'cause of stupid outside factors, I saw you considering it -- "

"I wasn't!" You exclaimed.

Seeing the expression on Ted's face, you hurriedly reeled yourself back in, dropping your voice to nearly a soft murmur. "... I wasn't. Why don't you believe me?"

The silence was so thick, weighing upon your shoulders like a heavy blanket.

But instead of being comfortable, it was suffocating.

A beat longer.

"Sorry, sorry," he finally mumbled, "sorry, I got… Ahead of myself. Sorry. I do believe you, I swear."

"No, no," you rushed to fill in the gap, "no, it's fine, it's alright." You'd stopped leaning back, now at full attention.

Ted peeked at you from underneath his bangs, and you took that as your cue to continue.

"I'm just … I'm just confused. Why…?"

Your voice trailed off, but before you could pull yourself together enough to clarify what you meant, he spoke up instead.

"I'm sorry, just -- " your heart broke; you heard the emotion warping the edges of his voice, but before you could say anything once more, he interrupted.

"Just forget … all of this. I - it's nothing. Sorry. I screwed up, that's all." He turned away, but not before you could catch sight of his trembling hands.

"See you in the morning, dude."

No. Not like this, you couldn't let him shuffle off to bed like this. You'd known how many times he'd done that already in his life. You'd witnessed it firsthand; the way he always bottled it all up, acting as if nothing happened while that was anything but the truth. You couldn't let him turn away and act like everything was normal the next day.

You reached out, wrapping a hand around his wrist.

He stopped immediately.

"Please. I can't forget this, and I know if I try it'll just keep getting harder not to." He was still facing away from you, but you didn't let that stop you.

"We've never hidden anything important from each other, Ted. You know I'm always here for you." Maybe there was a hint of desperation in your words -- but you were, and you were on the edge of begging. "Please, I hate fighting with you. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

He didn't speak for a little while; but he didn't pull away.

Then, eventually.

"I thought I could handle it, like before, but this time I just couldn't."

Now, he was facing you, your hand still around his wrist; and now, your hand was in his.

You couldn't speak, but that was fine, because he was still talking.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, dude. But seeing him looking at you like that -- " His breath caught in his throat. "... I never could be so forward, especially not with you. But I think I gotta."

Was this really happening? You felt light-headed all of a sudden. Did you fall asleep during the movie?

But his touch was grounding.

You could feel the calluses on his fingertips.

"I'm," he began, voice trembling. "I've been. In love with you. For a really long time."

Floored.

Maybe you were dreaming. Your Ted wouldn't be looking you directly in the eyes, professing his feelings to you, the blush on his face clear as a bad vocalist underneath the ugly fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Your Ted wouldn't be still holding your hand as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Your Ted didn't see you as anything other than a great pal.

… Right?

Wait, no, your Ted was still talking.

"A - and I know this is really sudden and you're not obligated to return anything because obviously it's kinda awkward because we're best friends and it's gonna change everything -- I like everything, but -- "

If he could be so brutally forward, it was probably your turn to do so too.

"Ted."

His mouth snapped shut.

"Ted," you repeated, face flaming. "I love you too."

There. Years of feelings all expressed in Four. Simple. Words.

For a moment, he looked like a fish; mouth opening and shutting uselessly.

Then, you were pulled into a bear hug.

Nothing unfamiliar, but this time, it was somehow so much different. Automatically, your hands were around his neck, and his around your waist, and together you stood there for a while. Rocking a little. No words necessary to convey what you were both thinking.

Finally.

#ted logan x reader #ted logan x you #ted logan imagine #ted logan imagines #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #bill and ted imagine

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borathae · 6 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/anikore/718515947758026752

Honestly, this has been plaguing my mind for days. I’ve recently fallen back in love with your writing again, particularly kookie and Yoongi.

This scenario has just been running wild. Imagine if, either (or both) have decided with their girl (I’m thinking ceo au and witch au) that they’re going to dedicate a full day to kink. Specifically a (consensual of course) free use day?

I’m obsessed with groping by the way so imagine for the entirety of the day, neither are fucked, only pseudo-banged. So, they’re being bent over a counter and thrusted into over and over and their balls are being played with as well. Or, their domme(/ partner) has them grind against a counter (that’s a far fetched idea but 🥵) and just working them up. Until eventually, in the evening she just puts them into the best really sensual sun space and shows them truly how much she loves them.

Honestly, this was just a thot dump, really, but I hope you enjoy 😭

CONSENSUAL FREE USE DAY OMFMGM *barks* 😩😩 this is so these couples coded 🥴🥴 and why do I feel like either would have such a different approach to it

Sanguis Yoongi x OC

he'd be cool about it

because he knows the goal of that day is to rile him up, he'd want to pretend that he isn’t into it

the first time she comes up to him with the intent to hump, he'd be all like

"okay this is happening. Fine. This isn’t gonna work, princess."

then by the tenth time she bends him over something, he'd be all like laughing fondly

"Again? I’m telling you this isn’t working."

while his fingers are secretly twisting the pillows of the sofa she bent him over and his ass is secretly chasing her movements

but the thing is? the more often she pulls away again the cuddlier he gets

like he'd begin wanting to randomly hug her or just give her hand a little squeeze or play with her hair

and he'd get unnaturally chatty

and she'd know that it IS working

because he is so obviously trying to pretend not to be affected with all the talking he is doing

I can also see them never getting naked during the day and her doing all the groping over his clothes

also lots of kisses because Yoongi goes crazy for them

one time she slipped her hands in hid pants and Yoongi let out a small breathy moan accidentally

she stopped with a smirk and left with a "see?"

while he is all 🥴 trying to regulate himself in the small corner she pushed him in

so by the time it’s night, Yoongi practically rips off his clothes so he can finally feel her fingers on his skin

and he will finally beg and whine and squirm just for her

Aaol Kook x OC:

he'd be an openly needy boy from the beginning

he'd moan with the first touch

and those moans will only grow in volume the longer the day drags out

he'd also writhe and squirm with the first touch

and become squirmier the older the day gets

he will also very proudly accept that he is getting hard each time she humps him

and that those boners become harder (pun intented) and harder to get rid of afterwards

by the end of the day, Kook will run around wtih a constant semi so sensitive that the sensation of taking off his pants is already enough to turn it into a leaking hard on

I can also see them being a lot more kinkier

I feel like next to excessive humping, there'd also be some examination play involved where she makes him take off a certain parts of clothing so she could "check up on how he is doing"

you know for example he takes off his shirt because she is "worried that his nipples are rubbing against his shirt too much and she needs to make sure he's okay"

or he has to take off his pants and bend over so she could make sure that she isn’t "rubbing too much against his hole and therefore hurt it"

just very obvious bullshit excuses so she can play with his sensitive spots without ever going further than feeling them up

and like one time, the play is cleaning out for later and then her taking a shower with him so she can "make sure his dick is also clean enough"

while Kookie is basically sobbing cause he's so needy for her as she gives him a soapy handjob "to get him clean"

okay bestie I gotta stop because this is going to escalate into me becoming feral

Consensual free use is so hot to me omfg 😩

#asks #madstxo #asks: aaol #asks: sanguis duology #thirsty thursday #yg thirst #jk thirst #hcs: aaol #hcs: sanguis duology

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chimielie · 2 years

Text

You're just trying to get back to your room.

It's misty outside for the first time in days, and your hair is doing weird things because you just woke up, and it's laundry day, so you're wearing the best combination you could find of strangely-patterned sweats and a sports bra as a shirt.

And you're doing your laundry, so you have to go all the way downstairs and back up again. Back up again, however, seems to have been roadblocked by a wall of leggy, perfectly unmade-made-up girls who are all coming back at nine in the morning from someplace unknown and mystical, smelling of coconut body spray.

"Excuse me," you try, your voice maybe too quiet as you attempt to sound less than annoyed. A few of them move out of the way, and you walk past gratefully, only to be stopped short as the tallest, coconuttiest, perfectest one rocks back right into your path, bubbling over giggling like celebratory champagne. You don't have to look to know who it is that made her laugh like that, where she's coming back from.

You stand, staring, for a moment, involuntarily comparing her side profile to your own, the way her hair is piled up in a messy bun girls on Wattpad in 2012 would envy. She doesn't even notice you, still addressing a rapt audience, and you feel much, much smaller than you should.

Blessedly, someone says her name, an abbreviated, fond version of it, and she glances at you and moves out of the way. You mutter "thanks," and sidle through, though there's not enough space in the tight hallway to avoid bumping your knee into someone else.

"Sorry," Kuroo says, and despite how hard you’ve been trying not to look at him, you just have to.

Your eyes scrape over his stupid high school hoodie, his growing stubble, his piercing eyes. His hair’s a mess and your chest grows tight imagining why. There's something awful growing in there, vines you can feel growing offshoots that you cannot let burst out.

Part of you is indignant, insisting that you shouldn’t feel like a mouse in the presence of all these popular people, that you have self worth beyond cowering beside the queen bee. The rest of you shivers, remembering that you have every reason to feel guilty around her, that you’re the other woman.

You try not to think about how the reaction is more due to remembering the night you fucked her boyfriend than anything.

You hadn’t carried on any lascivious, secretive affair with Kuroo. It had been a one-night stand before they’d gotten together. The night they’d gotten together.

You’d found yourselves in the same social circle after the frantic rush to make friends during the first week of university, and he was the handsomest thing you’d ever seen, just between man and boy. You’d pushed—hard—to get closer to him, signed up for the things he liked, didn’t make too much fun of his awful chemistry puns or taste in bands. You’d lingered in his life, been the last one in his room, late at night, and his roommates weren’t coming back.

You’d woken up, sore and a little embarrassed (you were pretty sure they couldn’t build walls thick enough) but as weightless and joyful as the dawn. He was still dead to the world, so you’d climbed out of bed and hustled back to your room with the full intention of texting him later in the day.

Mere hours later, the news had come through like wildfire.

You’re pretty sure they’re not official, that boyfriend and girlfriend are titles only used in your head, but everyone knows they are capital T Together.

You feel silly whenever you watch him out your window, back arched and eyes narrowed as he hits a perfect spike playing volleyball in the green. You were the one who left before he woke up; you who had promised him a one-night-stand.

Still, something in you screams that he was yours first.

He's looking at you like maybe you'll respond, spit out a joke, pretend like you haven't lost your mind jumping into something you didn’t understand. You don’t stay long enough to read his face; you duck your head and go.

He waves a half-assed wave at your back. You have eyes in the back of your head, it seems, because you can’t help but wave back.

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader angst #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! x reader angst #haikyuu x reader angst #shorts!

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orphic-musings · 1 year

Text

All the glowing lights sparkle so delicately in your eyes

Characters: Cyno x reader, Tighnari x reader (platonic) (NOTE: this is when they are still students at the Akademiya!)

Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: None. Except one Cyno joke.

Summary: As students of the Akademiya, your friend Tighnari invites you out to the winter festival along with his friend Cyno…. who definitely has a crush on you.

Notes: I wrote this for a Secret Santa event by @2022gisecretsanta ! I was @yostresswritinggirl ‘s secret santa so I HOPE YOU ENJOYYY! 🫶🫶🫶 And Happy Holidays everyone! ❤️

Cyno stares up at the stars twirling and shimmering above his head. The student’s event council had been tirelessly working to make the Akademiya look festive, and these paper stars were some of the finishing touches. As the student decends the tall ladder he pushes out a sigh. The whole school, even the whole town, is in the spirit for the winter holidays, except him.

“C’mon Cyno, we’re almost done studying before the break, can’t you at least pretend you’re looking forward to it?” His amber eyes peer up at his fuzzy-eared friend, who’s staring at him with a dubious grin. “Or were you too busy thinking up bad puns to pay attention.” Cyno merely grumbles.

“I wish school would keep going instead, I just wanna get the year over with.” He plops his cheek against his palm, face ever stoic.

“But it’s the holidays! You can take the time to just nap and eat festive snacks if nothing else, what’s got you in such a sour mood?”

Tighnari notices Cyno suddenly stiffen, and he follows his friend’s gaze right over his shoulder and towards…

“I just finished my last final!” Another of Tighnari’s colleagues thumps their books against the table and slumps into the seat across from Tighnari and beside… Tighnari shoots a grin and an eyebrow wiggle at Cyno.

But Cyno doesn’t notice, he’s too busy trying to resist the flush that threatens to ignore him. Luckily, or unluckily, you pay no attention to him as your grumble to your good friend Tighnari.

“Well, since you’re all done why don’t you come to the festival with me and Cyno?” He offers, putting on a friendly smile to hide his mischevious intent. You glance between him and Cyno, before an excited grin takes over your tired features.

“I would love to! I didn’t have anyone to go with so I wasn’t going to go, but now…. ooh I’m so excited!”

Your pure elation cracks Tighnari’s calm demeanor, lighting his face up with a bright smile to match your own. The two of you are meanwhile oblivious to Cyno’s apparent suffocation.

“I have to return these library books, but I’ll see you two tomorrow?” You say, getting up from your seat.

“Yes, let’s meet at 6:30 in front of the library.” Tighnari says. You smile in reply, scooping up your heavy books and scampering off. Turning to Cyno, he shoots him a smirk, which, humoursly, Cyno could only describe as foxy.

»»————-　♡　-————««

The next day you wake up refreshed, enjoying being free from the stress of finals at last. You spend the day relaxing mostly, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling away. As half past six approaches you get ready, making sure to wear warm clothes. Although the days in Sumeru are quite warm, the nights quickly get cold.

“Oh, hi Cyno! Is Tighnari with you?” You call out, seeing the white haired boy standing alone. He whips his head around hearing your voice, you worry you may have given him whiplash.

“Hi um. Tighnari’s not here yet, hopefully he won’t be much longer.” He mumbles, looking away. His aloof nature doesn’t surprise you, you’ve heard he’s a rather stoic guy from other students. You watch his gaze, fixed at nothing in particular, and he appears in deep contemplation of something. Absentmindedly, you muse as to what it could be, unaware of your staring. Until Tighnari clears his throat, causing the two of you to startle.

“At ease soldiers,” he jokes, noting your riged statures. “Ready to go?” He asks, and you and Cyno both nod. Tighnari leads the conversation, effortlessly weaving both you and Cyno into the conversation. It makes you wonder if it tires him to be the middleman, but when you reach the festival you all have something in common.

The three of you stand in awe of the beautiful decorations. The Grand Bazaar radiates warmth with the lit-up stalls, the buzzing chatter and the joyful performances on stage.

“This is so amazing! I’m glad I came out here,” you say, eyes sparkling with wonder. Tighnari scans the wonderful scene too.

“I’m glad I came too,” Cyno concurrs, but his eyes are instead focused on your face, brighter than all the lights of Sumeru combined.

“Hey look, they have a tea stand! Let’s go get some!” You say, already dragging the other two along. You sip tea while observing all the various stalls and displays, the jubilent atmosphere filling your body and soul with warmth.

»»————-　♡　-————««

As the night goes on you find yourself standing beside Cyno, with Tighnari lost somewhere in the masses, claiming he wanted to go back to buy something.

“Do you think he’s coming back?” You ask, trying to break the silence. He merely shrugs. You notice his faraway gaze returns.

“What’s on your mind?” Your question surprises him a little, but he cracks a small smile, you would call it almost michevious.

“Y/N.” He turns to face you, and you look at him with anticipation.

“Why should you always invite mushrooms to a party?” He asks. Your mouth opens and you blink, taken aback. Taking a moment to recover from the sudden query, you begin to shake your head, dumbfounded.

“Because they’re fun guys,” he states plainly. You blink once more, before a wide smile splits your face and you burst out in laughter.

“That was the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard,” you says, features still scrunched up in amusement. His victorious smile fades a little, unsure if you are insulting or complimenting him. “But it did make me laugh so, I guess it worked.” You look at him with a smile still on your face.

“I’m glad,” he says, his grin returning, “you’re cute when you laugh.” He freezes. You freeze too. He didn’t mean to say that, he opens his mouth to stutter out an apology, but you interrupt him.

“You’re cuter,” you reply. He can’t tell which of you is more flustered in this moment. From within the crowd Tighnari emerges, but seeing your burning faces he ducks away without a sound, smiling to himself. Cyno inhales, trying to grab a hold of any confidence or courage in his bashfulness.

“Well, then in that case would you maybe like to hang out with me… sometime. A-as like a date, only if you want of cours-“

“I would love to.” You quiet his ramblings with your sound reply, and a hand placed on his. He maneuvers his hand so his fingers are slotted between yours, and he squeezes gently.

“I already say this but… I’m glad I came out here,” you whisper, and put your head on his shoulder. The warmth from his hand, the tickle of his long hair and the scent of oranges, earth and amber provide you with an overwhelming sense of comfort. Suddenly a tingly warmth and restful heaviness fall over you.

“Me too,” he says, and he gently rests his head over yours, staring up at the glow of the festival illuminating the navy sky. He smiles.

#fanfic #x gn reader #fluff fic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #orphic musings #genshin fluff #comfort fanfic #genshin fic #2022gisecretsanta #gi cyno #cyno x gender neutral reader #tighnari gi #tighnari genshin #tighnari x reader #cyno fluff #sumeru characters #winter fluff

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exmcrtis · 6 months

Text

you can sit beside me when the world comes down...

(a general overview of what my muses have been up to post-event)

ARTEMIS has mostly been laying low. she was unaffected by the destruction in town, but the emotional damage was enough to convince her she needs to keep her head down, and she's been spending more time at home or at work. she's been feeling more and more lonely these days, and as a result has decided to stop using physical intimacy as a coping mechanism. long story short, she's a reformed hoe.

BELLA has been splitting her time between jerico, the cruz-duttons, and her friends, but has mostly been with jerico. his injuries have worried her enough that she's in full-time panic mode, but is doing her best to hide it from everyone. she's also formed a new friendship with jessie, one that she plans to hold near and dear. just don't tell other people that she has a heart, she'll probably kick you in the shins.

CAIN suffered an eye injury during the earthquake, and has been sentenced to wear an eye patch for the foreseeable (pun intended) future. not being with val during the ordeal freaked him out, and they have been shacking up at his place for the past couple of weeks. he really only leaves the house to go to work, but he's been rendered useless since he needs both eyeballs in order to do his job properly. just call him captain cain and slap a pet parrot on his shoulder.

EZRA did not attend the event, as the idea of being around that many people freaks her out. she happily stayed at home with her books, but often visits the large cracks in town to inspect them. can usually be found staying out dangerously close to dark, but thinks nothing of it.

HALLEY sustained sprains to both her wrist and shoulder, but is otherwise unscathed. she's still quite emotionally stunted when it comes to her family situation, but chooses to distract herself by visiting mo as often as possible. she also spends a lot of time with zarina and knightley, but still doesn't fully open up about her feelings. she also confessed her feelings for saffron and doesn't regret it, but the very thought of liking someone that much terrifies her.

LAVENDER hasn't been doing so great for the past couple of weeks. the disappearance of her mother has left her feeling like a shell of a human, and no matter how much she tries to distract herself, she just can't shake it. she spends most of her time at work or around town, no longer feeling like the commune is home. however, she has no plans of moving out, so she's stuck in a limbo state currently.

LEIA was beebopping around until the earthquake hit, and then she scrambled home. she visits draven and salem more often than not, wanting to make sure that draven is okay despite how heavy things are at home.

LUCA has been hovering around parker as often as they'll let him. he didn't attend the event, but seeing so many people grieving and recovering makes him tense, so he's been spending most of his time at work. he does regular check-ins with all the weirdlings, and while he wants to pretend that he has no feelings, his concern for his little siblings for all intents and purposes outweighs any façade that he tries to put on. basically, this is the best time to try and befriend him.

ONDINE has been trying to adjust to life in town rather than the commune. her life has been uprooted in every sense of the word, and it's caused a lot of trust issues to develop that weren't there previously. she's made quick friends with celia, a good thing considering she's been bringing joei to work with her, and has begun settling into the idea of being around people outside of the commune. ondine wants to believe that she and joei are safe now that there's some sort of separation from absinthe, but she can't help but feel paranoid that something bad will happen at the drop of a hat.

PRUDENCE is living in a current state of grief and sadness. the loss of minnie hit her hard, so she's been trying and failing to find as many distractions as possible. she hasn't been sleeping much (if at all), and the exhaustion is starting to show. conrad's offer for her to stay over at the greene residence whenever she wanted has been accepted every single day since the earthquake. she's started to feel like a burden as of late, but she continues to show up at mason and conrad's door on a daily basis. she worries that she's overstaying her welcome and is waiting patiently for the day when they kick her out. spends most of her time crying but has become a pro at hiding it.

SALEM sustained some pretty serious burns from her shoulder down on her left side. in the past couple weeks she's visited the clinic a few times to make sure she's taking proper care of herself, but unless she's there or at work, she's spent most of her time at home. though draven tries to fuss over her, salem still keeps her focus on him, trying not to think too hard about what happened to her. however, she plans to cover up for quite some time, not wanting to draw attention to her burns. garnering extra attention is too scary.

SARE has spent most of her time working. she tries to check in with spencer even more now, not wanting to feel like a helicopter sister, but also wanting to make sure her little sibling is doing okay. she's finally coming around to the idea of having a closer relationship with sycamore, but she's choosing to take that one step at a time.

VIOLET has been a worrying mess since the earthquake. she's been trying to give saffron space, but has done at least one check-in (even if it's met with a grouchy attitude). she knows how worried rex is and has been spending as much time with him as possible so she can keep both of their minds at ease.

WOLF has been coping with his injury by cracking jokes and annoying arty. his hand was crushed badly by debris, and he anticipates that it'll never gain its full functionality ever again. while it's been extremely painful to deal with, his aversion to going to doctors (and being touched, for that matter) has made him refuse to go to the clinic. he will continue to cope with humor.

WYLIE is doing the worst of them all. minnie's death has left her feeling like she barely exists, and she cries most of her days away. she has stopped going to work all together, and when she is around other people, she mostly stays quiet until someone addresses her. wylie feels like there's no point to life anymore, and has no idea how to channel any of her emotions. coping mechanisms don't currently exist, and being around her can only be described as 'miserable'. she misses the love of her life.

#artemis hayes: musings #bella darling: musings #cain barlowe: musings #ezra blum: musings #halley macgillivray: musings #lavender parsons: musings #leia tolentino: musings #luca russo: musings #ondine feng: musings #prudence wheaton: musings #salem salazar: musings #sare holmes: musings #violet beauregarde: musings #wolf lykaios: musings #wylie bateman: musings

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hms-no-fun · 1 year

Note

was it intentional making dave and kanayas changes reflect the names of the rejected/lost endgame ships? Dave is now davecat (ala davekat) as he loses karkat in the fallout of all this, and kanaya becomes Mary, the remaining half of Rosemary now that rose has died. was this intentional? And, further, assuming this wont be expounded on later in the fic due to its entirely meta nature, how do you feel the changes reflect their characters, with Dave INCORPORATING the phonetic match of davekat, and kanaya Explicitly Removing the rose? Or is all this just nonsense?

the davecat/davekat pun is intentional, and kanaya choosing "mary" out of rosemary is also intentional, but i hadn't actually thought much about how they mirror each other in their relationship to their relationships! dave doesn't think of himself as catdave of course, but the presence of that pun in the reader's mind certainly helps reinforce the fact that davekat didn't explicitly *break up.* actually you know what i'm gonna go on an extended tear about some dualism because i want to, regardless of how on topic it is

i've said before that i wanted godfeels kanaya in 3.2 onwards to echo kanaya in homestuck^2. in hs2, her divorce fever manifests through the adoption of a nun's attire and a distant longing for her wife. kind of a "when will my beloved return from the war" type thing.

i remember folks having a problem with that interpretation of kanaya being passive in a ooc way? but i think it's notable we never got far enough to see her in action, and let's remember that she's still ON the ship headed to deltritus, to rescue rose and kick dirk's ass. so you know. it's hard not to be passive when you're stuck on a ship waiting to arrive at plot

(which is a criticism of hs2 i appreciate, even if i don't entirely agree for a number of reasons we definitely don't have time for)

so anyway, the thing about hs2 kanaya is that her wife disappeared without talking to her. it's not just that she's separated from her wife, fundamentally there's a betrayal involved-- which the characters (and thus the readers) sublimate into anger at dirk for having manipulated and controlled rose into going down that path in the epilogues... but i think it's genuinely up for debate whether or not rose was, in fact, altogether 100% mind-controlled by dirk. is she really under his thrall, or is she playing into the role because it's better than dying of existential migraine? or because she's bored of her life on earth c and wants to spice things up in the bedroom with reaaaaaaaaaally extended foreplay? rose has always been a melodramatic bitch after all, that's what everyone forgets loves about her!

[relitigating long dead fandom discourse voice] just because rosemary means a lot to you as Queer Representation doesn't change the fact that gay people also suck! like they literally got married at age 16, have some fucking perspective

of course to my mind it's even an open question whether rosemary divorce fever in hs2 was straight up an agreed-upon longform romantic roleplay. i mean what better way to larp your femknight in shining nunarmor ravishing you romantically from the clutches of the weeaboo dragon fantasy than Literally Making It Happen In Real Life? you see i liked hs2 precisely because it had an ambiguity of purpose in its characters that lent itself to all sorts of juicy interpretations. yeah they probably plodded around in that a bit too long, but let's not pretend that the fandom ever approached hs2 with even a sliver of patience or good faith to see its ideas through to the end

u h h h h h h h wait what the fuck was i

so anyway mary in godfeels is similarly betrayed, but in a very different way. the question of why rose didn't bother letting kanaya in on any of the things she knew is wrapped tight in barbed wire. contemplating it is an unavoidable act of self-harm. it's a question that can't be answered, but will linger forever. mary has to wonder if killing her wife was truly necessary, if there was another option, if rose's visions were truly infallible... or if rose just couldn't think of a better way to end things between them. those are just a few of the many questions that can haunt you when a loved one dies unexpectedly

so mary is a post-rose kanaya who has to choose between obsessing over the loss of her wife or moving on into a completely new existence. now then, on the flipside of that you've got dave, who doesn't have that same dividing line between his First Real Relationship and the rest of his life. he says to himself "karkat will wait for me," and so presumably intends to find his way back to earth c sooner or later. but he also has to live in the present, deal with his own shit, continuing to grow and change in unknowable ways. so where mary has to accept that it's okay to become a person her wife would not recognize, dave has to confront whether he can live with himself if he becomes someone that karkat won't recognize. he has to interrogate whether or not his boyfriend's unconditional love will remain unconditional as the two of them grow and change apart from one another.

so yeah, there's some juicy dramatic resonance in the davecat & mary puns. which, you know, will almost certainly have no intersection with june's situation or dana's situation or lenore's situation hahaha

#godfeels #homestuck #sarahposts #rosemary #davecat #davekat #divorce fever #homestuck2

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mollyencrypted · 4 months

Text

This is your reminder that 'death of the author' does not mean letting shitty people off the hook because you like their work and want to ignore its flaws. It means that the duty of interpretation belongs to the reader, and that means you can hold shitty writers accountable for the unfortunate implications they refuse to acknowledge.

(Edit)

Alright, I've decided I want to talk about this more actually.

The full quote that the term 'Death of the Author' is derived from is the death of the author is the birth of the reader. It comes from a 1967 essay by Roland Barthes arguing that there is more to discuss and analyse about a work than the author's intentions and history, and that there's value in the individual reader's interpretation. (I'm also pretty sure that the French title, la mort d'auteur, is a pun on la mort d'Arthur.)

It's been reinterpreted in a lot of ways since then, but ultimately the ability to separate a writer's intentions from the text is pretty much what fanfiction runs off of. Death of the Author lets you come up with character headcanons that make more sense to you than the creator's intentions. Death of the Author lets you retcon insulting character deaths no matter how hard the creator insists they're really gone. Death of the Author is pretty much the entire underpinning of Warhammer 40k tie-in novels, wherein everything is canonically in-universe propaganda and deciding which parts are actually true is up to the individual reader.

It's not about pretending that problematic creators don't produce problematic material, or that those problems are somehow okay. There is almost always value in interrogating the context a work was produced in. Death of the Author is acknowledging that there is also almost always value in telling the author to fuck off because this is your bridge now, and having some fun with it.

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nagdabbit · 1 year

Text

title i'm so sorry my hand slipped: un-beef-lievable

rating: teen, for cusses and implied ass eating and the awful pun

pairing: hangman adam page/jon moxley (/renee paquette, implied)

words: 2.1k

@wrestleprompts week one: "Two people reach for the last bottle of the same drink in a gas station fridge package of burger in the grocery store."

i dunno what this is, but it happened.

Jon Moxley was a scumbag.

He was a vicious, violent blood pervert who liked to watch MMA and beat off. A brat who craved attention and did anything and everything he could to get it—usually involving running his mouth to the point of getting hit. A troublemaking dickhead. An idiot with a mean right hook and a nice wife who terrified Adam more than he'd like to let on.

And most of all—worst of all—he wouldn't fucking leave Adam alone. He expected it in the ring, in the back hallways of whatever stadium they were in that week, the parking garage—hell, he figured Mox wouldn't hesitate to jump him in a hotel lobby if the mood struck. But not once did he ever expect the man to accost him in fucking Kroger, of all places.

Mox was smirking as he noisily smacked his gum, eyes intent on Adam's. Man that handsome had no business being that punchable. "You gonna let go anytime soon, cowboy?"

Like hell was he gonna. He wasn't ever one to back down, especially not to Mox. "I got here first."

"Bullshit."

"You're always tryin' to ruin my—"

"Oh, like you don't do the same!"

"Well if you didn't mouth off all the damn time!"

"You're one to talk!" Mox rolled his eyes as hard as he could, "C'mon, man. For once, I don't want any trouble. I just want the beef."

"Bullshit," he shot back. Mox always wanted trouble. He lived for it.

"Didn't anybody ever teach you not to fuck with service workers?" He made a face at Adam, like he should've been ashamed of himself. "Nobody here needs to clean up after us. No fuckery 'til we get to the parking lot. Cross my heart or whatever."

Adam rolled his eyes. Or whatever indeed. Man had no trouble knocking out any security guard, coworker and innocent bystander that got in their way, but a little rumble in a grocery store was a step too far. "How chivalrous."

Mox just grinned, gum caught between his front teeth. "Yeah, I'm a real catch."

Adam just wanted a goddamn burger. That was all. That's all he’d gone looking for. He’d had a travel day from hell, his nerves were frayed and his brain was jittery, and all he could think of to fix it was a simple burger. Just a simple package of ground beef, enough to have some leftover burgers for the couple days he was stuck in town for the pay-per-view. That was it. He really didn’t think he was asking for too much.

Unfortunately, the entire fucking city had agreed with him. The store had been cleaned out, no burger as far as Adam could see. There wasn't even any ground turkey in the cooler, let alone a package of beef.

Well, except the one he and Mox were playing tug of war with.

"Can you please just give me a fucking break?" He was dangerously close to begging, but goddamn it, he was tired and frayed and just on the edge of screaming.

Mox pretended to think about it for a moment, head tilting this way and that like a puppy. "Nah, I don't think I will."

"Fuck you."

Mox looked around, looked at the meat that tethered them together, and looked back to Adam with his eyebrows raised expectantly. "Well, you need anything else?"

"What?"

He shrugged, easy as anything. Like he didn't give two entire shits, one way or the other, as long as he kept hold of what he'd stolen. "Well, I'm not letting go. I assume you're not, either. May as well get the rest'a your shit instead of just standing here lookin' stupid."

And Mox, the dickhole, just walked off without waiting for an answer, tugging Adam along by the beef. He could either give up, or he could stumble along behind, and he really wasn't in the mood to give up where Mox was concerned.

It didn't take much coaxing before he was, indeed, stumbling.

"Need cheese, chips, onion rolls, obviously—"

"Obviously," Adam agreed, despite himself.

"—some veggies, and some ice cream," Mox listed off, steering his cart toward the wall of dairy. "Can you go grab chips while I grab some cheese?"

He gave the man a dry look. "You're not that slick."

Mox just gave an easy shrug, unconcerned that his trick attempt hadn't even landed. "I'll get you eventually."

"Bullshit you will."

"I did once already."

"No, you almost killed me."

"Eh, same difference."

"If you'd just let go, I'd leave you alone," Adam suggested, though it sounded a little like hopeful begging, even to his own ears.

"Uh huh," Mox murmured, absently as he scanned the cooler wall. "You a cheddar guy? You look like a cheddar guy."

Was he? He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess?"

"Good, you're not completely hopeless."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome." Mox scanned the wall of choices for a few moments, then settled on the store brand of dairy-free cheese, like he’s decided to zero in on the one Adam hated the most.

Adam sighed. "Nah, that one sucks. Doesn't melt very well, get the Chao," Adam grumbled and smacked Mox's hand away, grabbing for the Tomato Cayenne slices instead. "These are better."

"God, you're bossy," he grumbled, but he didn't actually sound too mad about it as he dropped the proffered cheese into his backet. "What else d'you need?"

He shook their hands where they were joined by the meat, "Just this."

"Well, that ain't happening, so best be thinkin' about what else you want." Mox looked around thoughtfully, "Need some potatoes and peppers."

"I'm really considering making a mess in the goddamn dairy aisle, if you don't let go," he threatened. It was weak, but Adam was dangerously close to just lying down right there and waiting for their match, dinner be damned.

"Oh, please. Sweet little country boy like you?" Mox scoffed and tugged him along toward the produce. "Your parents taught you better than that."

Adam scowled at the back of Mox's head. He was right, of course he was, but that didn't mean Adam was gonna admit it out loud any time soon. "What are you such an asshole for?"

"What're you so upset for?" Mox countered.

"I am not upset. I am tired, I am angry, my flight got canceled and then the next one got delayed three times. Everyone was loud and complaining and I can’t fuckin’ stand it," he began, despite knowing Mox didn't actually give a shit. "The hotel fucked up my reservation, everywhere else in the fucking city was booked up, so I had book a last minute AirBnb—which was a bitch and a half, let me tell you. And it’s stuffy and dusty and overpriced, so I’m out a penny and my head hurts. And after all that, all I fuckin' wanted was a nice meal, a night t'myself and some fuckin' peace."

Mox scrunched up his nose a little, frowning back at Adam over his shoulder. "I don't see what I have to do with—"

"You're pissin' me off," Adam spat, and gave the package of burger another firm yank. Didn't even fucking budge. "You have spent months at this fuckin' point, making my life a living hell, and you can't even let me have one evening."

A tilt of his head, a little hum, a noncommittal half a shrug. "Maybe. But you started it."

"How?!"

He shrugged again. "You pushed me off a fuckin' ladder."

"That was so fucking long ago!"

"Yeah, but it hurt."

Adam groaned and dragged his feet, even as he let himself get towed along. "All I fucking want to do, is go back to my overpriced house and grill a goddamn burger."

Jon hummed as he observed the potatoes on offer, like they held any kind of answer. "Sounds like a you problem. You can always let go and hit another store."

"I'm not getting another fucking Lyft just to go to a different grocery store."

"Well, tough tits, then."

"The hell do you even want it for? You can't cook."

"Nah, but Renee can."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Oh fuck off, who cares."

Mox came to a sudden stop, suddenly tense and still. He turned a slow, dangerous look toward Adam. "Did you just insult my wife's cooking?"

And Mox had been right, after all; his parents had taught him better. He knew a line when he crossed it, and insulting someone who didn't deserve it—and wasn't even there to defend herself—was just a step too far. He immediately raised his hands in surrender and, because he knew Mox, leaned himself backward out of punching range. Not that it really mattered.

Mox smirked, and placed the package of meat into his basket as he continued on down the aisle. Easy as that. Took away all of Adam's hope for an easy, comfortable evening, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. "Thanks, cowboy."

Mother fucker.

He watched Mox amble away for a few steps, until the spike of anger and shock subsided, and he was left with hunger and bitter disappointment. "I hate you."

The fucker just laughed.

Mother fucking fuck.

Well, there went his evening, walking away with a smirk and a swagger. He watched on for a few seconds more, and then headed for the exit with a sigh, already opening up a map of the area, in case there were any other stores within walking distance. Maybe he could find a Wendy's, or something. Salvage at least a little bit of his evening.

Hit kind of regretted not just throwing a haymaker the moment Mox smirked at him. They'd both have gotten thrown out, but at least Mox wouldn't have walked away with his prize either.

But he wasn't at work. He didn't have to fight if he didn't fucking want to, no matter how much Mox grated on his nerves. And even if he had been itching for a fight, Mox hadn't brought his friends into it. Hadn't deliberately tried to goad him into doing something stupid. Just stole a package of ground beef out from under his nose, which wasn't a big deal. But Adam was hungry and tired and overloaded after a day of travel.

He was slouched against the side of the building, in the middle of ordering another ride, when a shadow crowded into his space. Warm body heat, and a cloud of cigarette smoke and cherry candy and mint. He didn't have to look to know who it was, but he did anyway.

Mox was still smirking. He held out an expectant hand. "Gimme your phone."

"Fucking why?" he demanded, though he handed it over without any fuss. Mox would probably take it by force if he wasn't careful, and Adam was too tired to care what he planned to do with it.

An untroubled hum and a half a shrug. "Just thought I'd be nice, is all."

"You?" Adam lifted his eyebrows. "Nice?"

"When I'm feelin' like it," he muttered, busily tapping away. He made a triumphant little noise, and threw the phone back.

It was open to a text conversation, with a number he didn't already have in his contacts. A simple message had been sent, with just an address. If he was remembering right, it was just a few blocks over from the place he was staying.

Mox was looking pretty proud of himself when he glanced back up. "What's this?"

"Our AirBnb address, if you didn't feel like just catching a ride with me," Mox said with a grin, backing away across the crosswalk without even looking out for oncoming cars. "Just in case you still wanted that burger."

Was Mox stupid? "Why the fuck do you think I'd go somewhere with you."

"Figured you were hungry." He gave Adam an innocent look—much as he could manage, in any case. He was lucky he was cute, because he couldn't feign innocence for shit. "You've been talking about eating an awful lot lately."

Adam's cheeks went hot, almost immediately. That was—fair. Adam had let his mouth get the better of him a couple few times, where Mox was concerned.

His smile widened again, the obnoxious fuck smacking on his goddamned gum. "Renee said she'd set a place for you," he said, smug as anything, and turned away to hunt down his rental in the sea of cars.

Adam stood for a few moments, just watching him swagger away, and then pocketed his phone, ride forgotten. Maybe it wasn't smart to follow along at his heels, but he'd never really claimed to be.

And Mox was right, anyway. He could eat.

#wrestleprompts #hangmox #i really have no idea where this came from

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boosqoowoo · 10 months

Text

beenzino - like a fool (english lyrics translation)

바보같이 해 do it like a fool

바보같이, 바보같이, 바보같이 like a fool, like a fool, like a fool

바보같이 해, 바보같이 해, 바보같이 해 act like a fool, act like a fool, act like a fool

바보같이 해 act like a fool

우린 사업을 바보같이 해 we do business like a fool

바보같이 해, 바보��이 해 act like a fool, act like a fool

바보같이 했다 파파라치 해 you acted like a fool, be a paparazzi

걸렸다, 이 놈, ye i got you, you jerk, ye *beenzino once caught a paparazzi taking a picture of stefanie and him, so he pretended to tie her shoes. this picture later went viral in korea for being "the ideal boyfriend". he could be poking fun at the fact that people idealised this when it was in fact staged. **could also be something a paparazzi said after catching someone acting like a fool

우린 사업을 바보같이 해 we do business like a fool

사실 우연히 사고를 쳤네 actually, i had an accident

알고 한 것처럼 겉으로 보이지만 i thought i could see it from the outside

자세히 보면 난 정답을 몰랐네 but if you look at it in detail, i do not know the answer

기 모아 고민하지 말자, 뭐 살 땐 let's gather our energy and live without any worries

key를 모아 엉겁결에 외제차가 석대 gather the key for a foreign car, but unexpectedly

피규어가 되버렸지, 내 R8 it turned out to be a figure, my R8* *R8 is a model of a car, Audi R8

나는 BMW ambassador네, whoa i am a BMW ambassador, whoa

그러지 말고 바보같이 해, whoa don't live like a fool, whoa

생각했다, 그 새끼처럼 되면 안돼 i thought, 'don't be like those fuckers'

이 새끼들은 맨날 pay me 라 외치지만 나는 주인처럼 행동해 these fuckers always scream out 'pay me', but act like the owner

fool, 내 밑으로 들어와, 난 world wide 로 벌어와 fool, get below me, i earn worldwide

똑똑하면 No, No, No, No 'if i was smart?', no, no, no, no

똑똑해서 No, No, No, No because i was smart? no, no, no, no

문을 쾅 제낀다, 나와 눈이 마주친 다음 slam the door open, then make eye contact with me

내 소리를 듣는다면 무작정 나타난다 if you hear my voice, come out recklessly

도움을 부탁한다면 준비가 되어있다는 뜻 if you ask for help, that means that you're ready

선한 뜻, 악한 뜻, 그딴 건 관심없다 whether good or bad intentions, i don't care about that

바보 셋이 뭘 원하는지 넌 잘 모르겠지만 you don't know what the 3 idiots want

나는 알 듯, 말 듯, 알 듯 whether i know, don't know, or know

하는 찰나에 주변에 플래쉬가 펑펑, 눈물 펑펑 as soon as i did it, there was flashes and tears around me* *flashes from paparazzi or just people's phones, which makes one tear up from the bright lights

난 마치 Michael Jackson, 한 손은 가랭이 사이를 sexy하게 잡고 as if i'm Michael Jackson, one hand grabbing like im sexy* *grabbing crotch dance pose by Michael Jackson

spinning 퓽퓽, 온 힘을 다해 (아이고) 으라차차 spinning poom poom, use all my energy and dance

뱉는 나의 랩은 미친 경지에 올랐던 셋 the three people who reached my level of fast rap

이 정도쯤 되면 돈이 펑펑 쏟아지는 듯 at this rate you're going to spend a lot of money

눈이 돈인 듯, 쏟아지는 듯 가득 채우고 feel your eyes with money, so much that it's spilling

황금 보석 성을 세우고 더 높은 곳을 바라봐줘 build the golden treasure castle and please look up higher* *after spending so much money, please aim higher

목표는 없어, 막 갈기다 보면 된대, 밤새 돈을 펼쳐 놓고 i don't have a goal, i'll just keep grinding, till i can spread the money all night

이 음악에 맞춰 shake that ass, 땀을 흠벅 흘려 this song is like shake that ass, till your sweat is dripping

돈 위에서 뒹굴고 몸에 붙은 돈은 다 네 꺼 roll on top of the money, and all the money stuck on your body is yours

감이 떨어지네, 단독주택이네, 이제 우리 작업실 how dare i lose, our studio is now a detached house

감이 떨어지네, 새벽 운동하듯이 난 track 위를 걷지 how dare i lose, i walk on the track* like im exercising at dawn *pun using 'track', to mean running track or music track

새벽 운동이나 할 겸 계동에 와서 나는 월세를 받지 whether exercising at dawn, or collecting monthly rent at late winter

힙합 노비들의 역사 가치가 한옥처럼 변할 수가 없지 the historical value of hip hop slaves can't change like Hanok* *Hanok is a traditional Korean house, which used to be of low value due to how old it is, but now is wildly valued due to its historical significance

해, 바보같이 해, 바보같이 해 do it, act like a fool, act like a fool

바보같이, 바보같이, 바보같이 해 like a fool, like a fool, act like a fool

우린 사업을 바보같이 해 do business like a fool

바보같이 해, 이 바보야 해 act like a fool, act like a fool

바보같이 했더니 파파라치 flash 가 깔렸어 paparazzi's flash caught it in the middle of acting like a fool

바보같이, 헤 헤 act like a fool

바보같이 막 우린 냅다 갈겼어 like a fool, we were struck apart

바보같이, 바보같이, 바보같이 획 like a fool, like a fool, like a fool

바보같이 해, 바보같이 해 act like a fool, act like a fool

바보같이, 바보같이, 바보같이 해 like a fool, like a fool, act like a fool

우린 사업을 바보같이 해 we do businesses like a fool

바보같이 해, 이 바보야 해 act like a fool, you fool

바보같이 했더니 파파라치 flash가 (펑, 펑, 펑, 펑, 펑, 펑) in the middle of acting like a fool, paparazzi's flash ping ping ping ping ping

바보같이, 바보같이, 바보같이 획 like a fool, like a fool, like a fool

#beenzino #nowitzki #khh #english trans #eng trans #english lyrics #eng lyrics

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asknarashikari · 1 year

Note

In relation to the Aruto knows the Kuramas thing from awhile back.

Aruto: Neon-chan? Neon: A-aru, no, Hiden-san, What are you doing here? Aruto: Izu told me what happened. Aruto: Are you coping? Kyuun: Neon-chan, who's at the door? Aruto: Y-you're living with someone else? Neon: It's someone who's supposed to know me when they probably should have known Akari-chan Aruto: Neon-chan… Aruto: Can I at least say a few words, Neon-chan? Neon: There's nothing to say, you only knew Akari, Hiden-san, and I simply replaced her when she died. Aruto: No Aruto: As someone who has had to kill my own father, I know that's not true. Neon: What? Aruto: Yes, I might have met Akari-chan in another reality Aruto: but in this one, I bonded with you Aruto: I only remember you Neon: *grabs her id core and forces Aruto to touch it* Aruto: Wha- Neon: I knew yo- Aruto: Don't you see? *tears fall from his eyes* You're much different than Akari-chan Neon: Wha- Aruto: For one she isn't as bubbly as you Aruto: She laughed at some of my jokes, but you don't Neon: *mutters* That's because they're puns. Aruto: See? Akari-chan would have loved my puns Neon: I… Aruto: Whatever the DGP did, it has nothing to do with our relationship. Aruto: And this is me being raised by a humagear father. Neon: Humage- what? Isn't that illegal? Aruto: And you think my grandfather would care? Neon: But Aruto: No, the law to stop the humagears from looking like the deceased wasn't in place yet, three years after I was placed under his care. Aruto: Both you and Akari-chan know how much I hate those things my grandfather hosted. Neon: Doesn't change the fact that you've only met Akari-chan. Aruto: That's where you're wrong. Aruto: Dad forced grandpa to take me to the Kurama estate after what happened on your birthday Aruto: I don't know why my father wanted that to happen, but it did. Aruto: We were in your bedroom the whole time and you had told me that you had to stop pretending my jokes were funny. Aruto: So that I would stop telling those cat puns Neon: You really think that Neon and I are so different? Aruto: *nods* Neon: *breaks down and cries onto Aruto's chest.* Aruto: Its okay let it all out, Neon-chan, let it all out.

*in some place*

"Breaking Impact!" the whole place shook as Beroba, Daichi, and Michinaga all scrambled outside only to be greeted by a Kamen Rider, as Giant as Beroba. "Consider that a warning" Aruto: *whispers* if only I could interfere and do much more to these bastards. As soon as Aruto left, the foliage and buildings around the abandoned building were flattened by the gigantic Kamen Rider.

Beroba and Daichi looked at each other while Michinaga simply glared at the other two.

Aruto should follow that up by buying the Kurama zaibatsu, kicking out Neon's parents and letting Neon decide what happens next... Since those two cared so much about the company that they were both willing to marry Neon off to secure its future, maybe Neon should get to decide what happens to it now

Also, he should interrogate Kyuun for his intentions. Maybe bring along Izu and her friends for that bit lol. And make it known he prefers a certain tanuki instead XD

#kamen rider zero-one #kamen rider geats #hiden aruto #kurama neon #ask #puwaasuru

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pocket-luv101 · 4 months

Text

Flowers Lost to Time // Chapter 2

Fandom: Genshin Impact Ship: CynoNari

Summary: Each Valuka Shuna are blessed with a mark that will tell them who their soulmate is. Tighnari has a flower tattoo but he couldn’t recognize what it is. (CynoNari, Soulmates AU)

(Ch.1) // Ch.2

“Let’s stop behind that dead tree and rest. The tree should give us a little shelter from this sandstorm.” Cyno pointed at a shadow against the veil of sand. Tighnari didn’t know how he was able to distinguish anything in the sandstorm. He thought that the heat would be the most dangerous part of the desert but now he feared that they wouldn’t be able to find the path back to the rainforest. That brief worry disappeared when Cyno squeezed his hand. He trusted that he would they would return home together.

They hiked up the hill. The shallow slope was made difficult by the shifting sand and wind threatening to throw them deeper into the sandstorm. They kept each other grounded as they walked. When they reached the tree at the top, the wind was weak enough that they could take a break to catch their breaths. Tighnari leaned against the tree trunk and he was grateful that the tree blocked the sandstorm slightly.

“Tighnari, sit down.” Cyno told him. While he didn’t know why he would ask him to sit, he trusted his judgement. He was more familiar with the desert than he was. Tighnari lowered himself on the ground and Cyno knelt in front of him. He placed his hand on the bark over his shoulder and leaned over him. The closeness made Tighnari’s heartbeat quicken. He could only hope that Cyno wasn’t able to hear his heart racing in his chest.

The wind pulled at Cyno’s dark cloak and it billowed behind him. He took off his cloak and moved the fabric so it was draped over them both like a tent. “This should keep us from swallowing sand while we’re talking. A tent would be better but setting up camp in this weather would be too in tents. We’ll have to settle for my cloak for now.”

“You can make lame puns even in a situation like this?” Tighnari let out a small laugh. He knew that the sandstorm was the reason Cyno said the pun. He would tell jokes to his Matra so they could feel comfortable and relaxed with him. Cyno hoped the same technique would distract Tighnari from the sandstorm. No matter how stiff and forced his joke was, the intent behind it touched his heart. Though, the sandstorm didn’t scare him with Cyno with him.

Despite how his cloak blocked the sunlight, Cyno was able to see Tighnari grin up at him. His smile could light the night sky better than the sun. As implausible as it was, he wanted to see his smile everyday. “This is the first time you’ve laughed at one of my jokes.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Cyno. You have a few funny jokes at first but I’ve heard them all a thousand times by now. Please don’t take that as a challenge to make even more puns.” Tighnari ordered and placed his finger against Cyno’s lips. “I’m not going to pretend to laugh at your jokes like Collei and your Matra would. I doubt that you’ll want me to lie either.”

People rarely spoke so bluntly with him the way Tighnari did. With his reputation as the ruthless and stern General Mahamatra, most were distant from him. He told himself that their assumption didn’t bother him because it helped his work. However, he couldn’t deny that his conversations with Tighnari felt refreshing. No matter if someone was a student or sage, Tighnari spoke with them the same. That was one of the reasons Cyno fell in love with him.

While Cyno was distracted, the wind stole his cape from his hand. Tighnari reached out to catch it before it could go too far. He leaned into his body and his shifting weight pushed him backwards. The sand and wind made it impossible for them to stay balanced. Cyno felt himself fall back over the incline and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Tighnari to protect him.

The other side of the cliff was much steeper than the side they climbed earlier. They rolled down the hill and Cyno winced as rocks scraped against his skin. He ignored the pain and held Tighnari tighter against him. He couldn’t grab anything to stop their fall without letting go of him. The only thing he could do was wait for them to reach the bottom and hope neither of them would be hurt.

Dendro energy surrounded them and their descent slowed slightly. Cyno couldn’t open his eyes but he recognized Tighnari’s will within the dendro. He tried to grow grass on the sand but it was difficult to focus when he was disorientated.

Suddenly, the ground disappeared beneath them.

The fear that they had fallen off a cliff gripped Cyno and a thousand regrets followed that thought. He could’ve tried harder to dissuade Tighnari from joining him on the expedition. He should’ve done more to protect him. Cyno wished that he told him that he loved him. “Tighnari, I—”

He couldn’t finish the confession before he landed on the hard ground. His words trailed off in a low groan. Between the tumblr down the hill and the impact of the fall, it took a few moments for Cyno to reorient himself. Tighnari recovered first and he sat up. He leaned over Cyno and called his name. “Cyno, are you okay? I’ll treat your wounds. Damnit, why is it so dark?”

“My body is a little sore but nothing is broken.” Cyno reassured Tighnari. He reached through the darkness and gently took Tighnari’s hand. He squeezed his fingers and that light touch was enough to calm him. As a Forest Watcher and doctor, Tighnari treated many injured people and animals. Yet, seeing Cyno hurt still scared him.

“It’s best if I check for any broken bones or if you have a concussion. Humour me, Cyno.” Cyno rarely allowed himself to appear weak and vulnerable as the General Mahamatra. On the other hand, he liked whenever Tighnari cared for him. He nodded and a relieved smile spread across Tighnari’s lips. Tighnari took off his sweater and sash and then folded it into a pillow for Cyno. His shirt rose slightly and Cyno stared at the flower tattoo on Tighnari’s hip.

The only light in the room was from the hole they fell through. However, even that dim light was diluted by the sandstorm outside. Cyno struggled to sit up and placed his bag next to Tighnari. “It’s lucky that we didn’t lose our supplies in the fall. I have a flint in my bag. This place that we fell is safe from the sandstorm but it’s too dark.”

As though in response to Cyno’s voice, a lamp in the center of the room came to life. Light flooded the room and they could see each other again. Tighnari scanned the room for any clue to where they had fallen. His gaze was drawn to the unique lamp. The light was from a flame but a cluster of gold sunlight and stardust. The two elements swirled together and it was contained by a shrub. The scholar in Tighnari wanted to study the strange mechanism.

Tighnari turned away to focus on Cyno. He took out a balm to disinfect the scrapes on his skin as he searched for further injuries. Cyno sat in front of him and allowed Tighnari to treat him. It was a scenario that they’ve been in many times before. He traced his finger over the faded scars on his back. He wished that he could always be by his side to protect him instead of treating his wounds afterwards. That was the reason he suggested that they search for the City of Sapphire together.

“Where do you think we are? I read a few books about King Deshret’s kingdom but there weren’t any records of a ruin here. Also, that lamp is unique from other artifacts from his kingdom.” Tighnari wanted to learn more about the desert to prepare for their trip. Unfortunately, the Akademiya didn’t preserve their history well.

“This is a Jinn shrine. The Temple of Silence had diagrams of Jinn shrines but this is the first time I’ve seen one. Once, I asked the priests to visit Ay-Khanoum to see one. They said that a trip to Hadramaveth is too dangerous.” Cyno rarely spoke about his life before he came to Sumeru city and Tighnari was curious. He told him how the Akademiya treated him like an experiment before Sage Cyrus adopted him. What was his life before that? Did he miss the desert?

“My lord.” An unfamiliar voice startled Tighnari and he turned to face the person behind him. In a single smooth action, he nocked his bow and aimed it towards the voice. Tighnari was confused when he found that the room was empty. He didn’t lower his bow, worried that the voice could be a spirit or abyss monster. Cyno needed more time to recover from the fall so he would protect him.

“I can’t hear a person’s footsteps or their breathing. Can you sense where that voice came from?” Tighnari asked Cyno behind him. His ears twitched as he strained to hear any hint of the person. He could only hear the rustle of sand blowing against the floor. He never had difficulty hearing someone with his sharp senses before.

“It is an honour to be able to see you again, my King. Ferigees has stood guard for three thousand years. I cannot leave this gate but I heard your voice through the shrine.”

“That voice is from a Jinn. They must have recognized me because of Hermanibis’s spirit inside of me.” Cyno’s assumption was reasonable but Tighnari wondered if they could be more behind Ferigees’s words. She called him a lord instead of a priest or divine spirit. Tighnari couldn’t linger on the possibilities for long before a thought came to him.

“Ferigees is a Jinn from King Deshret’s civilization! That means she knows how King Deshret was able to cure his people of Eleazar. At the very least, she can show us where the ruins are and we can gather any research notes the doctors left behind. We can save Collei.” Tighnari cheered and he hugged Cyno in his excitement.

Cyno knew that it was best to be practical and temper their expectation for a cure. Yet, when he looked into Tighnari’s eyes, he couldn’t help but be swept away.

“There’s a breeze so we’re close to the end of the cave. I can also hear water.” Tighnari said. They followed Ferigees’s direction and to a ruin beneath the tornado. The Jinn told them that she didn’t know how King Deshret purged Forbidden Knowledge and Eleazar from the land. Though, she offered to take them to an orchard that might give them answers.

The tunnel they walked through was seemingly devoid of life and Tighnari worried that the Jinn might’ve tricked them. The light at the opening of the cave was blinding and Tighnari prepared himself to step into the sandstorm of Hadramaveth. When they stepped fully into the sunlight, his breath was taken away. In front of them was an ethereal oasis.

Tighnari had never seen a few of the flower species before and he ran forward to study them closer. Did the plants have medicinal properties? Without the original notes from King Deshret’s sages, it would take a lot of experimentation to know if it could be a cure for Collei. It was a start though.

He took in a deep breath to smell the flowers and realized that the oasis didn’t have wind. He looked up at the leaves to see whether they moved with a faint breeze. A bird hovered over a branch as if it was about to take flight. The animals and fishes around them were also frozen in time. The beauty of the oasis was overshadowed by the mystery of why time had stopped in the domain. Ferigees didn’t appear malicious so he doubted she led them into a trap.

He stepped onto the grass and thought he could hear a faint voice draw him deeper into the oasis. Cyno stood next to him and he appeared as confused as he was. Tighnari followed his gaze to the small island resting in the center of the pond. He instinctively took Cyno’s hand. “Should we go back to the surface? There’s a better chance to find a cure by finding a hospital and clinic in King Deshret’s kingdom. Cyno?”

“What? Oh, sorry, I was distracted, Nari.” The Temple of Silence had told him of the Eternal Oasis but he believed that it was a fairytale. Staring at the oasis now, he could almost believe that he had stepped into a blissful dream. He glanced around the lush garden but his eyes would always fall onto Tighnari. Would King Deshret be offended if Cyno told him that his garden couldn’t compare to Tighnari in his eyes.

Cyno turned away from the garden and said, “This is a spiritual place for someone to grieve. We shouldn’t linger here for long. At least this domain is connected to several places in the desert and it can help us find the City of Sapphire.”

“For someone to create a garden like this, they must’ve loved them dearly.” It was clear that Cyno knew far more about the oasis that he didn’t tell him. Tighnari didn’t expect to find a domain filled with life and flowers in the desert. As much as Tighnari wanted to ask him where they were, he didn’t. He trusted Cyno’s judgement and that he would’ve told him if he needed to.

They reached the top of the hill and Cyno paused in the doorway. He plucked a green flower from the vine hung next to the cave. Cyno touched Tighnari’s ear and, when he didn’t pull away, he carefully tucked the flower into his hair. Tighnari reached up and touched the flower’s soft petal. “Wouldn’t it be disrespectful to take a flower from a sacred place?”

“I doubt King Deshret will miss a single flower,” Cyno reassured him. “I picked this one because it looks like your tattoo.”

“My tattoo? Five green petals shaped like diamonds.” Tighnari echoed the word and his body became tense. His hand shook as he took the flower from his hair and traced the familiar petal shape with his fingertips. He stared at it in disbelief. “No wonder I couldn’t find it. This flower is from the time of King Deshret and likely extinct. It only survived here because the oasis is frozen in time.”

“Should we bring the flower back to the rainforest and grow more? I’m not a botanist so I don’t know if introducing a new species of flower into the forest will have an effect on the environment. Though, it would be a shame to leave these flowers here. They’re beautiful.” Cyno plucked another flower from the vine.

“No!” Tighnari’s yell surprised Cyno. He was further taken aback when Tighnari took the flowers from his hands and dropped them on the ground between them. “It’s better if these flowers stay here. I don’t want to take them back.”

“I’m sorry.” Cyno didn’t understand Tighnari’s reaction to the flower but he reached out to comfort him. He cupped his cheek and stepped closer to him until their toes touched. He gently blue away a green petal from his hair. “It was a silly suggestion. You taught me enough to know that the rainforest’s ecosystem is sensitive to changes.”

Tighnari’s heart ached when he saw his expression. He hadn’t meant to hurt him or make him feel guilty with his reaction. He clutched the fabric of his shirt in his hand as he thought of how he could explain why the flower had a special meaning to him. He stepped back from Cyno and pushed down his pants enough to show the tattoo on his hip. The tattoo matched the petals on the ground.

“Why couldn’t that be the first flower you’ve given me?” He bit his lip lightly and then repeated the legend his father told him. “Valuka Shunas only fall in love once. This mark is a blessing from the Dendro Archon to help us find our soulmate. The first flower our mate gives us will be on our body. If we take that flower to the rainforest, there’s a chance someone else will give me the flower. I don’t want someone to give me that flower unless it’s yo—”

Tighnari stopped himself before he could confess his feelings to him. He never thought much of his tattoo or his soulmate while he grew up. The flower was unique and he believed he wouldn’t learn its name. The possibility that someone would take him away from Cyno seemed like a far away possibility. Now that flower laid at his feet.

“Let’s go home,” Tighnari tried to walk past Cyno and flowers.

“Wait!” He stopped him. He took his hand and pulled him back. Tighnari’s foot slipped on the vine and he fell into his embrace. He wrapped his arm around his waist and longing filled Tighnari. Cyno squeezed him against his chest and held him as if he feared he would slip away like the flower petals. He whispered: “I’m the first one to give you that flower. Maybe I’m your mate.”

“It has to be the first flower someone gifts me. You’ve given me a million flowers before.” He wanted to savour his familiar warmth even as his heart ached. Since he wasn’t his mate, Cyno was fated to find someone else. He couldn’t push him away though. “A Padisarah when we were students and I was struggling with my thesis. The lotuses for Collei’s medicine. Even last night, you came to my tent with hibiscuses.”

“Those were things I gave you but they weren’t romantic gifts. I picked those flowers because I thought they would help with your research or medicine. That flower was the first time I wanted to give you one simply because it was for you.” Cyno didn’t let go of him but he turned them slightly to look up at the flower. “I want to be with you, Tighnari.”

“The first flower my lover gave me.” He said and circled his arms around Cyno’s neck. At first, Cyno thought that he was returning his embrace. Tighnari stood on his toes and stretched his arms to pluck a fresh flower from the vine. He rocked back onto his heel and held the flower against his lips. “It looks like I’ve found my soulmate.”

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