#(for like multitask training or whatever)

[nostalgebraist]

Due to recent experiences, I am feeling an urge to make an anti-drug-style PSA except it's warning impressionable machine-learning-curious teens to never, ever try a thing called "Huggingface transformers Trainer"

Not. Even. Once.

[butyoudidthis4what]

Would You Believe Me If...

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

3.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CWs: mentions of alcohol; reference to sex; mental health issues; reader is not having a great time; reader doesn't like beer; depression; being sad for no articulable reason; self-hate; ass grab; kissing with tongue; little to no editing/proofreading; Jack being the BEST; hurt/comfort type situation (reader's brain is the hurt, Jack is the comfort)

Summary: Jack sees the sadness you're hiding from everyone and pulls you aside to talk and love on you.

AN: I was sent this ask and inspired to write whatever this is!!!! A short little fluffy comfort fic! I very much agree with that anon that Jack is very much an "On purpose. On purpose I am going to care about you" and "I never loved you on accident?" man. He would see all of you, good and bad, and still love you. I tried to give him that kind of vibe in You're Okay too and we see it here again (I hope, I don't really know what I'm doing anymore). I have absolutely zero fucking clue what the end is or where that came from but here we are friends. ALSO there is a very small Star Wars nod in here since I’m posting on May 4th! Thank you for reading!!

Jack’s eyes find you the second he hears you laugh. 

Quite literally a second because he’s always keeping an eye on you when you’re out together, not controlling or because he cares who you’re with. He just always wants to know where you are relative to him, just in case something happens and he needs to get to you. Military training, he supposes.

His eyes find you because he knows that laugh. It’s not your real laugh. It’s fake, the one you put on when you’re not super present and are hiding your sadness. To anyone else it’s very convincing, they don’t blink at it. 

He narrows his eyes a little to watch you better as you chat with McKay, Samira and Parker. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see your leg bouncing under the picnic table, can see the way you chew on the side of your cheek every so often. 

“You gonna pay attention to this conversation or just stare at your girl all day?” Robby asks Jack. Most of the crew is at a local park for a picnic celebrating Dana’s birthday.

“I’ve been paying attention and heard everything you said. Unlike you I can multitask.” Jack finally lets his eyes leave you as he turns to look back at Robby. Shen and Whitaker stifle laughs. Everyone knows it’s not true and just Jack giving Robby shit. You have to be able to multitask to be a good emergentologist, and Robby is one of the best, Jack’s told him that many times. 

“I agree though,” Jack nods at Robby. “The patient satisfaction scores are bullshit. They should automatically be a ten or whatever the highest thing on the fucking form is if they’re brough in via ambulance and survive.”

“People come in by ambulance for really stupid things that don’t really require us saving them,” Whitaker observes. 

“And people walk in with injuries they really should have come in an ambulance for,” Robby shrugs. “It would even itself out.” 

“Exactly,” Jack nods. He looks back over at you for a second and then stands up. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure you will,” Robby drawls, smirking. 

Jack ignores him as he starts walking over to you. “Hey,” he says to the group as he reaches you, sets his hands on your shoulders from behind and squeezes. You feel a little better already, just from being closer to him. The rest of the group continues chatting as he leans down to speak just to you. “Take a walk with me for a few minutes?”

You furrow your brows, tilt your head and look back a little to see him. “Um, sure. Is there a reason why? Are you sure? It seemed like you guys were having a good conversation.” You flick your head towards Robby, Shen and Whitaker. 

“I’m sure. And does there need to be a reason why I want to take a walk with my girl?” He turns his head a little more and places a soft kiss just below your ear. 

My girl. Even though you’ve been together for a while now it still makes you a little dizzy to hear. 

“No, I guess not.” You give him one of those fake smiles and he knows it’s not because you’re trying to fool him, not really, deep down you know better than to even try by this point, but because you’re in public. Have to keep up appearances. 

“Well I know not, so.” He leans back up and moves his hands from your shoulders. “I’m stealing her for a minute.” He nods at the group. It pulls some smirks but nobody says anything, they all just nod. As you get up Jack finishes off the little bit of cider left in the bottle you were nursing. 

Once you’re up Jack laces his hand with yours and leads you over to the park’s path, walks down it a ways with you in silence before pulling you off it. He walks with you on the grass until you come to a spot where the ground starts to slope down, the top of a little hill that provides a nice view of the sun setting over the city. You’re more than far away enough that nobody can hear or see you.

“What’s up?” You titter a little, clearly a bit nervous. 

Jack nods at the ground and you both sit, feet out in front of you, grass and soil dry from the heat of the day. “You were totally spaced out and not really there.” He eyes you carefully. “You’re back now, for the most part, but I wanted to see what’s up away from everyone.” 

You push your bottom lip out a little and shrug, shake your head. “I’m f-” Jack gives you a look. “I don’t even know why I bother trying,” you mutter. 

“Neither do I. But I get it. Wanting to hide it and not let me see because you know I don’t like seeing you upset. I feel the same.” He squeezes your leg gently and doesn’t press when you’re quiet for a bit as you think of what you want to say. 

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” you murmur. You already know the answer but you’re using the question as an answer itself.

“Yeah.” Jack pauses and cocks his head at you, catches your eyes and holds your gaze as he speaks. “Would you believe me if I told you it was okay not to know?” He already knows the answer but he’s using the question to tell you it’s okay. 

You let out a breath through your nose and shake your head a little as you look away from him and out at the city, Jack doing the same. “I know it is. Rationally. But the irrational side of my brain doesn’t.”

You see Jack nod out of the corner of your eye. He gives you space to think, sits in the background buzz of the park with you, hand running up and down your thigh to ground you, remind you he’s here. 

“I’m just sad.” You shrug. You aren’t teary, don’t even have the urge to cry at the moment. It’s a hollow sadness. One that just vaguely aches and makes you tired. “There’s no reason for it. Just am.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s okay too?” Again, he knows the answer but uses the question to make the point. 

“Is it though Jack?” You reply quickly. It surprises him, catches him off guard. 

He turns back to study your face, see if he can read what this is from your profile. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. 

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you continue. “Not even for me, but for you. It’s not fair to you. For me to just randomly be sad sometimes and unable to explain why. Because fuck Jack, I just want to sit here and be sad. I just want to sit here and be sad and maybe cry if I can get past whatever fucking emotional brick it is that’s stopping me from doing so. But what I don’t want is for you to have to sit here with me in it.” 

Jack lets your words hang in the air for a few seconds so that you know he’s really listening and taking them in, but not so long that it feels like he’s having to think of a response.

“It is okay. I promise you it is.” As much as he loves eye contact he knows it would be a little too much for you right now so he doesn’t push you to look at him or try to catch your gaze. “And it’s okay for us to just sit here. We can just sit in the sad. I hate seeing you be sad and struggle, yes. But sometimes you just need to sit here and feel it. And I want to be there next to you when you do. You don’t have to be okay and happy all of the time. You’re allowed to just sit here and be sad or whatever emotion you want to be. You don’t constantly have to be working towards being better when you get sad like this. We can stay here for a bit. I’m not going to let you or us unpack and move here, but we can visit sometimes. You can feel whatever it is you need to feel in front of me and with me. I want you to.”  

You let out a shaky breath. You know that what he’s saying is true. At least part of you does. But it’s so hard to accept. 

“And there are very few things in life that I have to do anymore, sweetheart.” He gives your leg a little squeeze before resuming running his hand up and down it. “You’re not holding me hostage or keeping me here against my will. I know I don’t have to sit here with you while you’re sad and don’t know why. I don’t feel like I have to. I choose to. I choose to sit next to you here in the sadness the way you do for me when I want to sit and be sad and not know why. I choose you.” 

“You should choose better.” It’s whispered. “You deserve better.” 

Jack starts shaking his head before you even finish the word better. 

“Yes, Jack, you do,” you say before he can get anything out. “Because you’ve been through so much already. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone easier to love who isn’t constantly putting you through shit like this. I know you love me, Jack, I promise. I never doubt that. But sometimes I don’t understand why you love me. Why you love me when I can be so fucking awful and all over the place and sad randomly for no reason. Do you see that Jack? Do you really see me? What you put yourself through by loving me?” 

Jack’s hand stills and squeezes your thigh again, longer this time, but still at the perfect pressure. He hurts, physically, his heart hurts seeing you like this, hearing your voice and knowing how much you mean what you’re saying. He hates it. He wishes he could take away your pain. But he can’t. All he can do is try to help and try to make you feel a little better and at the very least not let you be alone in it. 

He adjusts his position so that he’s turned toward you a bit more, the side of one of your legs and one of his pressed together. 

“Darling, the way you see and feel about yourself is not the way I see or feel about you. Just like the way I see myself and feel about myself is not the way you see or feel about me. We’re our own worst critics, as fucking cliché as that shit is. And I love you and mean this with all the love in the world, but you’re right. You can be awful at times. But the only person you’re ever awful to is yourself. Like you are right now.” You can feel tears start to form behind your eyes at that. Not because it’s mean and his words have hurt you. Because he’s right and you know it. 

He takes in a deep breath and looks out at the city for a moment before his gaze returns to you. “I don’t put myself through anything by loving you. I’m not burdened by loving you. And of course I see you, I always have,” he says with a heavy conviction. “You think I fell in love with you by accident? Or blindly? With my eyes closed?” 

You swallow thickly, can feel his eyes on you. “No.” Tears sting at your eyes now. “But still. You shouldn’t have to do this with me. I shouldn’t be work. But I am.”  

“Oh honey,” Jack breathes out softly. He takes a second and then shifts, sits a bit further up and grabs your legs, pulls them diagonal a bit and you a little closer so they can rest on top of his and you can look at each other better.   

“I need you to listen to me, yeah? Really listen.” Jack holds your face with his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones for a second while he looks you in the eyes. “Loving you is not the chore that your past has made you think it is.” He squeezes your face a little. “It’s not a chore at all. It’s a fucking privilege.” 

That gets a few tears to slide down your face and Jack’s thumbs are quick to wipe them away.

“And I know you can’t see that, and that you might never be able to see that. But it’s okay, because I do. And I will tell you it over and over and over and over until you understand why Robby tells me nicely to shut the fuck up sometimes.” He gives you the smallest knowing smirk.

You laugh at that, and it’s watery, and through your tears, but it’s real. You love the way he does that. Knows when to instill just enough lightness into this serious of a conversation to keep you grounded and from getting completely overwhelmed, but also knows when it’s not appropriate in a serious conversation. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper through some tears and shrug at him. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jack whispers back. He leans in and kisses your forehead, lets his lips linger there before pulling them away and resting his forehead against yours.

“You have to repeat this speech a lot.”

“I know.” He says it so matter of fact as he pulls his forehead from yours to look at you better. His hands leave your face and take yours in his, fingers tangling together.

“It makes me feel really bad. Like it’s going to push you away. Or like you’re going to think I don’t trust you or your love or-”

“I don’t think that, nor will I. I understand, baby. I really do. Because I feel the same way sometimes. I don’t care that you need reassurance at times. It doesn’t make me feel like you’re questioning me, or my love, or our love. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m the problem or somehow doing something wrong or not doing enough or anything else. It makes me feel like sometimes your brain’s chemicals get a little fucked up. And you know what? So do mine. I think we’ve had this conversation at least a time or two with the roles reversed. I think you have to repeat a version of the speech I’m giving you right now a lot. And do you care?”

You shake your head gently. “No. I would give you it every day if you needed me to.” 

“Guess what?” he whispers.

“So would you?” You give him a little pout and big doe eyes that show how much you love him and it’s so adorable he has to smile a little.

“Yeah. So would I.”  

He leans back in but this time he gives you a kiss on the lips, lingers just long enough before he breaks it and nuzzles his nose against yours. You keep your eyes closed as he pulls away, a little smile on your face. You open your eyes just in time to see the nearly beaming smile it pulls from Jack. 

The two of you sit there for a few more minutes before you finally turn to look at him. “We should go back.” 

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “We can stay longer.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m ready.” Jack nods, gently moves your legs off his and stands up before holding both hands out to help you up. 

Instead of taking your hand and starting to walk back though he slips his arms around you, slides his hands in your back pockets and pulls you right up against him by your ass. He raises his eyebrows and smirks a little, a slight bobble of his head when it makes you gasp in surprise. 

His hands leave your pockets and slide up so that they’re wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. You rest your hands on his chest, look up at him knowing he wants your eye contact. Jack smiles when you give it to him. 

“I see you. I see all of you. Even the parts you don’t want me to see. The parts you’ll never show anyone else. And I did before I fell in love with you. And I still chose to jump head fucking first into being in love with you and even right now, sitting here in the sad with you, I’d make the same choice without a second thought.” One of his hands comes to hold your jaw, thumb on one side of your chin, his other four fingers on the other side, index finger right in front of your ear and the other three just below your ear and on your neck. “I choose you. All of you. Not just the you that you like and think is good enough. I choose all of you because I love all of you and I know that all of you is more than good enough. I choose you and I will always choose you and I know I’m lucky to get to make that choice. I love you.”

Jack kisses you then, hand tightening just a little to hold you still for him. They’re chaste at first but turn deeper, his tongue running over one of your lips, a silent question. You let your hands run up his chest and over his shoulders before sliding your fingers into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and open your mouth for him in silent answer, just enough for him to slip his tongue in and taste you, let you taste him. The taste of you pulls a groan from deep in Jack’s chest and you shiver. You only pull back when you’re desperate for air and Jack chases your lips with his. It makes you giggle.

You can feel him smile against your lips as he rests his forehead against yours again.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “And I choose you too. I love you.”

“I know.” You feel him smile a little wider against your lips before he gives you another kiss. 

You bite your lip as he pulls away, let your eyes open back up slowly to his grin. Jack grabs your hand and leads you back towards the path.

It hits you a few steps in. “You taste like cider.”

“Yeah,” Jack nods.

“You don’t like cider. You don’t drink it.”

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs slightly. “But I was drinking beer and you hate the taste of beer. And I knew I was going to kiss you like that so when you got up from the table I finished off your cider so you wouldn’t taste the beer on me.”

You beam up at him and he just smiles, can feel your happiness. He knows it hasn’t made it all better, that you might still be sad overall, that it might linger for a while.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a minute until you break it. 

“They’re going to think we fucked, probably.” You smirk a little at Jack. 

“You wanna play into it?” He’s so unfazed and stoic about it. So Jack. “I can go grab some little twigs to put in your hair, a leaf, some grass.” 

You burst out laughing. Properly. Fully. Real.

“Twigs?!” For some reason him saying the word twigs is hysterical to you. 

“There’s my favorite sound,” Jack laughs with you. “Well, one of them, anyway.” 

“Oh?” You glance up at him as your laughter trails off. 

“You would have been making another one of my favorite sounds if we had in fact fucked,” he says nonchalantly, swinging your hands a little.

“Oh,” you breathe. You can feel the smirk radiating off him. “Do you have more favorite sounds?”

“Course.” You see him nod out of the corner of your eye. “You saying my name. You saying you love me.” He squeezes your hand. “And the sound of your heartbeat when I rest my head on your chest.” 

You bite your lip at that. It’s so sweet it almost makes your heart ache. “Awwwww!” You squeeze his hand and lean into him. “You’re such a romantic, pookie.” 

“Ha!” The pet name catches him by surprise. “No.” Jack shakes his head at it, but his smile gives him away.

“Pookie is cute!”

“Do you understand the actual level of shit I would get from Robby if he ever heard you call me pookie? I’d have to get a new best friend and a new job.” You giggle at him. “You’re laughing but I’m serious.” 

“I’ll go into work with you one day this week and conspire with Myrna to come up with an even better nickname than fruitcake for Robby if you’ll let me call you pookie sometimes.”

Jack stops walking and looks down at you, pretends to eye you up for a second before giving you a little smirk. “Come up with something really good that’ll drive him up a wall and I’ll consider it.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so sorry but the thought of hearing him say twig just sent me at the time I wrote this. I have no idea why. Anyway, I hope this was okay and you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading!!

You can find my Masterlist here for more Jack! Requests are closed while I catch up, but apparently if you just send in an ask with your thoughts about Jack I may be inspired and write something! I love chatting with you guys and likes/reblogs/replies are super appreciated and motivating!

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[lovetrouble123]

You’re An Idea, I Don’t Need You. But I Want You So Bad.

Synopsis: How would Damian know if he’s in love or not?

TW: n/a

A/N: I got carried away with this one. You listen to Catch by Chloe Moriondo once and it’s all down hill from there🫡

Masterlist

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The courtyard bushes were not the most comfortable spot to hide in, but for the current mission, it was needed…apparently.

Damian crouched behind the large lush bushes located in the center of Gotham Academy with his…acquaintance, Y/N, beside him. He didn’t hate his father, far from it. In fact, he respected his father as long as he respected him too. But for the life of him, he didn’t understand why his father insisted he attend school.

He never attended school when he lived with his mother. Sure he got the basics, and learned like any other child, but every math question or article of information was somehow related to his training as an assassin. Who the hell would need to know about stupid triangles?

“This is idiotic,” Damian stated. “And a waste of time.”

“I don’t think so,” Y/N mused beside him as she peaked over the bushes as well.

“We could be using this time to study, and instead you want to sit here and look at some useless nobody who will probably end up working at some pointless job working 9-5 with minimum wage in a few years,” Damian bluntly said.

“Damian,” Y/N turned her head to look at the black haired boy beside her. “This is exactly why you have no friends.”

Damian gave the girl an unamused look. “I don’t need friends. Especially people from this wretched academy.”

“We’re not friends?” Y/N asked, a small frown tugging on her lips.

Damian couldn’t help but mirror her expression, though his was out of distaste and annoyance. Y/N was definitely different from the other students at this school, and the first to ignore his pleads of wanting to be left alone.

He could remember it like it was yesterday, even though it was the very first day of the new school year. Y/N found Damian sitting alone in the library reading during the lunch period and she sat down beside him, and offered her lunch. He ignored her. But she kept poking and prodding him to the point he threatened to kill her…she only laughed and shoved her pretzels toward him.

The next he skipped the library and opted for the courtyard, but she seemed to find him again.

It took all week before Damian finally got tired of her presence and went to beat her up, but luckily for her, one of the teachers had been watching from afar. Not wanting to get in trouble with his father (and most likely be suspended from playing Robin for a little while), he let her go and walked off. But like a puppy, she followed and told him that she wanted to be friends.

They weren’t friends. They were simply acquaintances.

“I’d hardly call our dynamic a ‘friendship.’ More like a master and an annoying servant,” Damian corrected.

Y/N laughed at his correction. “Master and servant, really?”

He nodded, “yes. You’re constantly following me around, you constantly try and make my business your own, you do whatever I say…sounds like a servant to me.”

“I think that’s called being your friend,” Y/N replied.

Damian looked away from the girl and back toward the other students in the courtyard. “We are not friends. I simply tolerate your presence and nothing more. Don’t read into it.” His green eyes focused on one of the boys in the distance, one of the countless popular boys at Gotham Academy. “Shouldn’t you be spying on that degenerate?”

“I can multitask,” Y/N sassed as she turned back to watch the boy. He was surrounded by his friends—the popular kids. “You know, it’s surprising to me that you’re not one of the popular kids, Damian.” Y/N admits, “your father is the richest man in town.”

“I do not care if my father is rich, or if I am his son.” Damian scoffed as his nose wrinkled in slight disgust. “Popularity is pathetic. It’s just a way to distinguish those who need more validation and a need to fit in, from those who couldn’t care less. It’s just a tool, and you’re falling into that trap by having a crush on that idiot Gavin.”

Y/N let out a small scoff, “Gavin is not an idiot!”

Damian looked back at Y/N, “you’re kidding me, right? Have you ever heard him speak before? He has to be the most dimwitted human I’ve ever met, and I’ve had the displeasure of being around my ‘brothers.’ He’s obnoxious, arrogant, lacks brain cells, doesn’t have the capability to understand basic concepts, he cheats on girls all the time,” Damian continued to list Gavin’s bad qualities. But he wasn’t sure why exactly. It had to be because he wanted to prove to Y/N that their crush on Gavin was illogical. “Your taste in men is repulsive.”

“And since when did you become an expert on relationships and crushes?” Y/N asked, her eyes still focused on Gavin. “Last I checked, you haven’t had a crush on anyone.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed at her comment. “As if I would want to feel emotions as disgusting and as repulsive as ‘love’ or whatever you want to call it. I have no desire in romance.” That was how he was raised though, emotions were nothing more than a nuisance. A weakness. “People who feel those emotions are idiotic. What good does it do to swoon over somebody? It’s absolutely pointless.”

A part of Damian wasn’t sure if he believed in the idea of romance or even ‘love.’ It was a concept foreign to him, and a concept that only ended in disaster as he witnessed from his mother and father. A one sided love story, and every other night, his father would bring around a new woman. Did he hate the idea because of that, or did he hate the idea because it was droned into his head that emotions were dumb?

“I don’t think so,” Y/N admits as she tears her eyes away from Gavin and back at Damian. “I think romance is beautiful.”

“Then you’re more foolish than I originally thought.” Damian said.

Of course she believed in romance and love, every kid their age seemed to. The girls were constantly chasing after the boys, and the boys were constantly chasing after the girls. Except for Damian.

“Love is always going to end in disaster. The universe sets us up for failure.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side, “but how would you know if you’ve never experienced it?”

Damian raised a brow, “and what exactly does one ‘experience?’ Please explain this ‘phenomenon’ to me.” He was being sarcastic. In fact, he didn’t want her to explain anything. He didn’t care…so why did he ask anyway?

Y/N softly smiled as she looked down at her lap, almost like she was embarrassed to reply. But she did so anyway. “Love is…complicated, but it can also be beautiful. In my experience, love is two sides of the same coin…almost like a comedy mask—happy and tragic.” She explained, “being in love is the best but most terrifying feeling in the world. ‘What if I mess up? What if I say something dumb and my crush is suddenly judging me for it?’ But in the end, it’s worth it.”

She gave a small nod as she looked back up at Damian, “you know you’re in love when your heart skips a beat when you’re around them. When they make you happy, and the only thing you want to do is see them smile and make them happy. You want to spend every waking moment with them, and you can’t stand to see them upset…and you get jealous when they don’t look your way, and—s-sorry, I started rambling.”

He silently stared at her and took in her words.

Why did it sound…appealing? And why did it make his stomach feel weird like he was sick?

He mentally shook his head to dismiss the thoughts.

No.

Emotions, affection, love—it was all a weakness. He didn’t have time for trivial things like that when he had missions, when he played the role of Robin at night.

Finally, Damian replied. “You’re a fool. That’s the mindset of someone who watches too many cheesy romance movies and reads too many romance novels. Romance is a fabricated idea to lure you into a false sense of security, only to break you in the end.”

“Then I don’t mind being broken.” Y/N firmly said, her eyes staring into Damian’s green ones.

He wanted to act surprised by her claim, but he couldn’t be. He wanted to tell her she was stupid and dumb, call her out on her immaturity…but there was something about her determination that made his heart flutter some.

What was Y/N doing to him, and why did he feel this way?

A part of him wondered if she was using some type of psychology on him…maybe gaslighting and manipulating him into thinking he was feeling—ugh—romance. But Y/N wasn’t smart enough for that. She was just an ordinary girl attending Gotham Academy who strongly believed in romance.

“Any of your romances are going to end in disaster,” Damian warned. “And Gavin is surely to break your heart. Is that what you want?”

“You’re so pessimistic, Damian.” Y/N huffed in annoyance, “can’t you just hear me out for once?”

He wanted to deny it, but he had heard her out, so much so that he was beginning to believe that he did have a crush on the girl sitting beside him. But it was impossible right? He was a trained assassin, even if he didn’t kill anymore while in his father’s care.

He rolled his eyes, “aren’t you going to go and bother Gavin?” He changed the subject, desperately wanting to draw the attention away from himself and to Gavin.

“You know what?” Y/N stood up and brushed her uniform skirt off, “just to spite you, I’m going to go over there and ask him out.”

As she walked off, Damian suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She stumbled and fell back onto the plush green grass.

“Damian?” Y/N softly asked, her voice weary. “What are you doing?”

Wait, what was he doing? Why did he pull her back down, and why did he feel so…what’s the word? …jealous?

He let go of her wrist, “I just…I don’t think it would be wise for you to ask him out, or even interact with him.”

“What, why not?”

Because I don’t want you too, Damian thought to himself.

He felt disgusted with himself. How dare he Damian Al Ghul Wayne have—ugh—romantic feelings for such an immature and naive girl? Further more, how long has he been unknowingly pinning for her?

“He’s most likely only going to agree to befriend you or even ‘date’ you to get to me.” Damian suggested. “My father is the richest man in Gotham like you said…it’s the only logical explanation.”

“Right,” Y/N slowly said. “But Gavin’s never shown interest in you before so I doubt that’s true.”

“And you’d be right. He’s never shown interest in me, but my last name carries a weight with it. Everyone wants my fathers approval, to be in his good graces,” Damian explains. “If you and him go out, there’s no denying that he would try and befriend me, and then break your heart because I won’t introduce him to my father. You’d just be another name on a long list.”

“I,” she hesitated. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Damian remarked. But then he saw the frown on her lips and—why was he suddenly feeling bad? He never once felt bad for insulting someone, or even pointing out that he was better than whoever. But now, he felt like he had miss stepped…said something he shouldn’t have.

“If you want to be broken after a romance…find someone who’s worth it.”

[callsigns-haze]

A cousin mess

Pairing: Bodhi Durran x Sorrengail!Reader

Summary: Being Violet Sorrengail’s cousin was already hard enough—being caught sneaking out of your section leader Bodhi Durran’s bed at dawn by Xaden Riorson, fresh from Violet’s room, was a special kind of hell. What follows is a tangled mess of whispered arguments, loyalty wars, and night-time rendezvous no war college rulebook could prepare you for.

Warning: Explicit content, mentions of smut, mutual pettiness, and way too many cousins making bad decisions.

Being a Sorrengail had always come with weight.

You carried it like a second skin, worn and stretched tight across your bones since the moment you could walk. Expectations were stitched into your name, assumptions following like a shadow you could never shake. Mira blazed a path of honour and command. Lilith forged hers in steel and blood. Violet? Violet shattered every mould she touched.

And you? You were the cousin. The one tucked just far enough away from centre stage to be forgotten—until now.

Basgiath didn’t care who you were related to. It chewed on legacies and spat out corpses, and you were doing your best not to become one of them. Being in the same year as Violet made it… complicated. Mira had pulled you aside before Conscription Day, her hand gripping your shoulder with that unshakable Commander focus in her eyes.

“Protect her,” she’d said, voice low, urgent. “She doesn’t know how to survive in a place like this. Not like we do.”

Except Violet—blessedly stubborn, recklessly brilliant Violet—seemed to have no interest in being protected. She disobeyed the basic laws of physics with her ability to get herself nearly killed. Climbing trees to outrun other cadets, defying direct orders from Xaden Riorson, jumping headfirst into challenges with nothing but sarcasm and sheer nerve.

And now? Now she was bonded to Tairn—a dragon older than most mountain ranges and mated to Sgaeyl, the most terrifying creature in the sky.

Which meant your cousin was irrevocably linked to Xaden Riorson.

And you were stuck watching their growing bond unfold in terrifying proximity. Mira’s warning haunted you—“Keep her away from him”—but how the hell were you supposed to do that when their dragons were soul-bound lovers and Tairn would probably set the entire quadrant on fire if they didn’t breathe the same air?

So while Violet and Xaden bristled and burned their way toward whatever inevitable storm they were summoning, you were left fighting off Dust-born threats, surviving gruelling assessments, and covering for your cousin’s increasingly dangerous choices.

And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos… you fell for Bodhi Durran.

Gods, you told yourself it was just a crush. Something fleeting. A temporary infatuation born of stress and sweat and the way his hair curled at the ends when it got too long. But that was weeks ago.

Now?

Now you were tangled in his sheets, your skin bare beneath his as sunlight threatened the horizon but didn’t dare break through yet. The dorm was quiet. Everyone else had long since collapsed into sleep or vanished into early morning training. But Bodhi?

He had other plans.

“You’re not getting out of this quiz,” he murmured, lips brushing the slope of your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. “You’ve got an exam in three hours, and you said you wanted to pass without cheating.”

His fingers lazily traced the curve of your thigh where it hooked over his hip, holding you close. Your body still buzzed from everything that had happened minutes ago, a warm ache spreading deep in your bones in the most satisfying way.

“Boh,” you sighed, drawing out the nickname only you called him. Your voice was thick with sleep and the remnants of pleasure, and he hummed at the sound of it against his skin. “You’re literally inside me and trying to quiz me on military history.”

“You’re smart. You can multitask,” he said, smirking, dipping his head again to place another maddeningly slow kiss beneath your jaw, your collarbone, lower. “Name the last battle Commander Melgren led before the Third Rebellion.”

“Gods,” you breathed, arching into him. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“You said you wanted to learn. I’m a very thorough teacher.”

You swatted lightly at his shoulder, and he laughed softly against your skin, nuzzling at your neck before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was sleepy and warm and dangerous all at once—because Bodhi Durran had always been dangerous. Not in the same way Xaden was, all shadows and smoke and silent rage. No, Boh was sharp in a different way. Subtle. Patient. He cracked you open one kiss at a time.

You hated that you liked him. Loved that you did.

And in moments like this, when the world wasn’t watching and Violet wasn’t nearly dying and you weren’t buried under the weight of Sorrengail blood… you could breathe.

“You’re thinking again,” he said quietly, fingers brushing your temple. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“I have to,” you whispered. “Eventually.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, and the teasing was gone now, melted away into something real. Something that made your chest ache.

“You’re not your cousin,” he said softly. “You’re you. You don’t have to carry everyone.”

You blinked, and your heart stuttered painfully. “Yeah? And what if carrying her is the only reason I’m still breathing?”

Boh didn’t answer right away. He just kissed you—slow and deep and grounding.

And for a little while longer, you let yourself exist only in the warmth of his arms, your tangled sheets, and the promise of a tomorrow you might actually live to see.

You sigh against his lips and pull back—just slightly—pressing a hand to his chest. He’s warm under your palm, steady and solid like the only thing in this godsdamned place that doesn’t shift beneath your feet.

But your voice is soft when you speak. “I should go.”

Bodhi frowns, his dark brow creasing, but doesn’t move. “No.”

“Boh—”

“It’s not even light out yet,” he says, voice still husky from sleep and sin. His fingers flex on your hip like he could keep you here with just that touch, and honestly, it’s unfair how effective it is. “Stay a little longer.”

You shake your head, though it kills you. “If I leave when everyone else is waking up and sees me sneaking out of your room, it’ll be all over the quadrant by breakfast.”

He groans and rolls onto his back beside you, flopping dramatically into the pillow like you’ve mortally wounded him. “Let them talk. You think I care what they say?”

“I care,” you admit, pulling the blanket up over your chest as you sit up slightly, heart hammering as you glance at the door like it might swing open at any second and reveal a very judgmental Sorrengail sister. “I’ve got enough eyes on me already. Violet, Mira, Xaden—”

That gets his attention. His head snaps toward you. “What the hell does Xaden have to do with anything?”

You glance down at the sheets, twisting the corner of the blanket between your fingers. “He doesn’t, not really. But he’s always around Violet. And I’m always around her. And he’s your cousin. So, you know, it’s… messy.”

Bodhi pushes himself up on one elbow, dark curls a mess against his forehead, bare chest glowing gold in the faint predawn light sneaking in through the window. His voice is gentler this time, but still firm.

“Messy doesn’t mean wrong.”

You look at him, eyes narrowed. “We’re cadets sneaking around in the middle of a quite traumatic year. You’re my section leader. I’m a Sorrengail. You’re a Durran. And this—” You gesture vaguely between your bodies. “—is very, very naked.”

He smirks like the smug bastard he is. “Best part of my day, honestly.”

You groan and shove his shoulder, but he catches your wrist before you can pull away, lacing your fingers together.

His voice drops lower, almost serious. “I don’t want you to leave. Not yet.”

The honesty in his tone slices through you with all the gentleness of a blade. And for a second, just a breath, you hesitate. It would be so easy to stay. To curl back into his warmth and let the outside world fall away.

But you know better. Basgiath doesn’t allow easy.

So you press your forehead to his and whisper, “You’ll see me tonight?”

His smile softens. “Every night you’ll have me.”

Gods, you are so screwed.

You pull away—slowly, deliberately—feeling every place your body protests the loss of his heat. You collect your clothes silently, his gaze never once leaving your figure as you shimmy into your leggings, his oversized shirt still clinging to your shoulders like it belongs there.

He stays in bed, one arm thrown over the pillow where your head just was. His expression is unreadable, a strange mix of longing and something darker beneath it, something he’s not ready to say out loud.

You pad barefoot to the door, pausing with your hand on the handle.

“I’ll get points docked if you fall asleep in class,” you say over your shoulder, trying to keep the mood light.

“I’ll survive.” He leans back and grins. “But your punishment will be making it up to me later.”

You roll your eyes but smile—genuine and maybe a little too wide—and slip out before you lose your nerve.

The hallway is dim, the stone cool beneath your bare feet as you tiptoe your way toward your own room, Bodhi’s oversized shirt hanging past your thighs and still warm from his body. You’re three doors down—so close to freedom—when another door creaks open ahead of you.

You freeze.

It’s Violet’s door.

And stepping out—hoodless, shirt askew, hair unmistakably mussed—is Xaden godsdamned Riorson.

He doesn’t see you at first. He’s too busy pulling his jacket straight, running a hand through his dark hair, looking every bit as guilty as you feel.

But then he looks up.

You both stop.

Eyes widen.

And in perfect synchronicity, you both whisper shout at the exact same time:

“What the hell were you doing in my cousin’s room?!”

“What the hell are you doing in my cousin’s shirt?!”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He gestures wildly, pointing at the garment hanging off your frame. “That’s Bodhi’s! That’s his shirt!”

“And you were just in Violet’s room,” you hiss, stalking toward him with a level of righteous rage that has you vibrating. “You swore to Mira—you know what? No. I swore to Mira that I’d keep Violet safe from you!”

He scoffs. “Safe from me? I’m the only reason she’s still breathing.”

You jab your finger into his chest, teeth clenched. “That’s my cousin in there!”

He leans in, dark eyes blazing. “That’s my cousin down the hall!”

You both pause, breathing hard in the near-darkness, your whispered shouting echoing off the stone walls.

His voice drops, tight and clipped. “You’re a first year. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You blink at him, slow and deadly. “Try pulling rank on me again, Riorson. I dare you.”

He opens his mouth like he might try it anyway, but the stare you level at him—pure Sorrengail steel sharpened by years of being underestimated—makes him think better of it. He shuts his mouth with a snap and takes a half-step back.

There’s a long beat where you both just glare at each other. Silent. Fuming.

You mutter, “I’m gonna vomit.”

He crosses his arms. “Yeah, right after me.”

You spin on your heel, storming toward Violet’s door. “I swear to the wards, if you broke her heart I’ll find a way to make Sgaeyl regret ever mating.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” he calls after you, already stalking toward Bodhi’s door. “If you mess with Bodhi, I’ll tell Mira you slept with your section leader.”

You whirl around, whisper-yelling, “YOU WON’T—”

Both of you freeze again—guilty, caught, panting with rage—and then scramble in opposite directions.

You rush the last few steps to Violet’s door, knuckles already rapping in rapid succession, whispering furiously, “Violet, open up! I need to scream into your pillow or jump out your window or maybe shove you out of it, whichever happens first—”

Behind you, you hear Xaden’s fist slam against Bodhi’s door. “Bodhi, open the door before I throw you out the godsdamn window—”

Two doors creak open at once.

Two cousins blink sleepily in the thresholds.

Two pairs of voices say, in perfect, groggy harmony:

“What the hell is going on?

Part 2

[minsparrow]

what are some of your smutty headcanons about Jan? do you think he's a lover of dirty talk? does he like giving more than receiving? does he turn into a mess when he does receive? does he like turning you on when it's risky, e.g. out at dinner one night?

smutty headcanons › jannik sinner.

› 18+ mdni. nsfw content related to the ask. sorta switch!jannik & r, fem!reader. › thank you anon for this ask! i had a lot of fun answering your questions 😚 lwk think i went a lil crazy with this, i thought it would be shorter › 907 words.

navigation. inbox.

my thoughts

1. quickies. while i don't think it's what he'd prefer over something longer and more intimate, with his schedule he doesn't always have the time for anything else.

instead of careful prep it could be sneaking into the plane's bathroom while everyone else is asleep; breathing the same air in the cramped space, your chest pressed against the door, hoping the sound of the airflow would muffle any noises either of you make. – or in the parking garage of his monaco apartment after picking him up from the airport, taking advantage of the privacy law when you can't wait any longer; pulling him into the backseat of his car and riding him until you can't think straight, your hands touching any part of him now that he's real and no longer a figure on your phone or tv screen.

2. shower sex. he says it's "multitasking".

he comes back from training, maybe frustrated or hopeful, and he'll pull you into the shower with him. there's no time to worry about the water bill, he lets the water run and the bathroom mirrors turn foggy – just to spend some time with you.

on the days where he's frustrated you can find your knees resting uncomfortably against porcelain tiles with him towering above you; or your chest pressed against the glass wall of the shower, your breath contributing to the growing condensation. but if he's optimistic or confident, you'll be sandwiched between jannik and the tile wall, head tipped back as you lose all your self control.

3. phone sex, nudes, voice messages etc. it comes with the job, especially because of how crazy his schedule can be.

when you first start dating you don't consider phone sex or anything of the kind until he's on an entirely different continent and you're a bit desperate. in the beginning it's awkward, but you develop a formula – your phones on facetime with each other, set up on your nightstands to capture as much as your bodies as possible.

jannik gets scared about being loud, with him often being in hotels, so the voice messages start. he'll lock himself in whatever bathroom is nearby and talk (though sometimes, if he's needy, you'll get a voice message that's just his heavy breathing, with the occasional curse or whine). often, he talks about what he misses about you – the noises you make when he touches you, your hips, chest, etc.

his words spur you on to sending nudes, carefully cropped to hide anything identifiable but angled to show off whatever he's missing the most. along with the occasional voice message as well.

do you think he's a lover of dirty talk?

yes! i think he's nervous about it the first few times you sleep together, but once he learns what you like and what you don't, he feels more comfortable. along with time, when he sees you getting desperate he can't stop running his mouth – he likes teasing you, saying things that leave you craving more than what he's already giving you.

he also likes to rile you up; little whispers in your ear before walking away, or teasing texts and messages when he's halfway across the world.

lots of "you like that?" when it's so obvious you do; you could be speechless, over-whelmed with pleasure, and he'd whisper that in your ear with a knowing smile. and all you can do is nod.

does he like giving more than receiving?

i think he's more neutral about this; it's even between you two. but if there's not a lot of time, he'll prioritize you over himself. unless he's desperate 🙃

does he turn into a mess when he does receive?

100%. he seems like he'd be loud. when you've got a hand around him, he'll be flushed bright red, his hands will grab whatever's closest; your hair, sheets, etc.

he's gasp-y and whiny, not afraid to beg if it fits the moment – & one right move of your hand or tongue and his eyes are rolling into the back of his head.

this is also the main reason why if you do anything in public, his attention has to be on you or you guys will get caught. he can be loud & he struggles to stay quiet unless you do it yourself – a kiss, or even your fingers in or over his mouth.

does he like turning you on when it's risky, e.g. out at dinner one night?

yes, i couldn't see it being super common but he's done it before.

if it's something he'd rather continue at home it'll go something like his hand a little too high up on your thigh with a firm grip, dirty talk whispered in your ear in passing, or hidden wandering hands.

with him being a public figure he obviously has to be careful about what he's doing, but when he wavers from the safe to kinda-not safe territory there's a rush of adrenaline that he sometimes can't ignore; like some of the stuff i mentioned above. though, there's no ignoring the risk of what you're doing.

and if you tease him back, you'll end up leaving wherever you are early. he'll be tense on the way back to where you're staying – his flat or hotel room. then on the way up in the elevator he'll chastise you, complaining about the risk like he hasn't done the same before and all you do is smile.

hope you guys enjoyed! i'm always free for a chat like this 😊!

[demie90s]

𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐃 𝐔𝐏 & 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ DIANA TAURASI X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

2/? Part 1 Part 3 Part 5

MASTERLIST

⭑ pairing: Diana Taurasi x fem!rookie!reader

⭑ summary: Rookie of the Year, team favorite, and everybody’s newest obsession—you can’t keep your mouth shut during a live interview. Diana Taurasi’s sitting right next to you, and your talent for getting under her skin is almost as good as your game.

⭑ genre: humor, flirtation, slow-burn tension, public chaos

⭑ warnings: light language, suggestive flirting, press/fan reaction

⭑ word count: ~0.8k

The lights hit, the cameras roll, and the crowd’s already screaming before you touch the mic.

You flash a smile. The one that’s been on ESPN since draft night. The one that had people tweeting “that rookie’s got something dangerous in her eyes.” Rookie of the Year. A walking headline. And today? You’re mic’d up next to the Diana Taurasi.

She leans back like she doesn’t care. Like she hasn’t noticed you’ve been sitting with one leg over the other, relaxed and shining, making it your mission since preseason to get a reaction out of her.

You adjust the mic. “Thanks for having us. I was told I had to be professional, so I left the crop top at home.”

The audience laughs. You glance over.

Diana doesn’t blink.

“Probably for the best,” she mutters, straight-faced.

You grin, unbothered. “You say that, but I’ve seen how you look at me in practice. Don’t play.”

The team—seated in the front row like this is reality TV—loses it. Sophie slaps her knee. Skylar covers her mouth. Brianna pretends to be shocked for the camera.

Diana sighs. “Here we go.”

“C’mon,” you shrug. “I’m Rookie of the Year. Let me be annoying. It’s in my contract.”

“You’re doing great at it.”

The moderator, God bless her, tries to regain control. “So! How’s the dynamic been, with such a strong rookie presence on the team this year?”

“Strong is a word,” Diana says flatly.

You lean into the mic again. “Obsessed is another.”

“She’s been flirting with me since training camp,” Diana says, dry as desert air.

“And yet you never file a complaint,” you fire back, smirking.

“HR said no,” Sophie yells from the crowd.

Everyone’s dying. Twitter is probably already clipping it. You can see the phones held up. You’re trending again, and it’s not even noon.

“I just think she’s fine,” you say, waving your hand like you’re stating the weather. “It’s not my fault I got good taste and no filter.”

Diana finally looks at you—really looks. Her mouth tight, fighting a smile. “You should focus more on film and less on flirting.”

“I’m a multitasker, mama.”

“Oh my God,” Skylar groans behind her. “She called her mama.”

Diana rubs her temples.

You sit back, pleased. You’re killing it, as usual. The league loves you, the fans adore you, and your favorite hobby is cracking through the ice wall that is Diana Taurasi’s tolerance.

The moderator asks another question—something about your first season, about pressure, about your historic run—but you only half-hear it. Your eyes stay locked on the way Diana finally, finally cracks the smallest smile.

You live for that smile.

You answer clean, smooth, charismatic as hell. “Pressure makes diamonds. Or whatever Rihanna said.”

“Didn’t know she coached now,” Diana says.

“She could,” you shrug. “You’d listen if she did.”

“So would you,” she says, then instantly regrets it.

The room explodes.

You turn, all teeth. “So you admit I’m your type.”

She lifts her mic. “I admit nothing.”

The crowd is loud. The team is crying. And somewhere deep down—even if she’ll never admit it—you know you’ve cracked her just a little.

MASTERLIST

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes ch 8

masterpost Danny did his best not to float through the building. His chest buzzed pleasantly with cheerful nerves. Jason had let him into his haunt and let him meet a family member: it was only fair to reciprocate with a little vulnerability. He was more than a little nervous that his interests weren’t cool enough. But Jason was actually listening to him, not rolling his eyes or hiding boredom at how many details Danny rattled off. It was really nice. It made him want to find out what Jason was passionate about, too. It made him want to curl under Jason’s arm. Like, lift it up and insert himself in the warm space between Jason’s body and arm. He could just sneak on in there-

Hmm. Wait. Danny blinked as he tracked his train of thought back. PDA? He stole a glance. Probably not a good idea so early into hanging out. It would come off clingy. Since Danny was legitimately a clingy motherfucker, he had to play it cool for a while to trick Jason into a false sense of security. He was trying to be on his best behavior still. 

“Oh hell yeah, we’re going to the Ring Nebula.” Jason was reading the signage, bright eyes tracking everyone moving around them and steering them effortlessly. Danny noted the multitasking with a sort of puzzled admiration. He could walk in a crowd or he could read, just one of the two. “What’s a nebula?” An incredibly subtle aura washed out from him with his self assurance and confidence. Jason just felt so in control. It was incredibly reassuring to be around. Crowds parted for him and all Danny had to do was keep pace. 

“It’s the remains of a star.  That’s a Messier object, actually. There’s a white dot at the center which is a white dwarf and then around it there’s helium, hydrogen, oxygen-” Danny cut himself off, embarrassed. He was so messy, oozing excitement all over the place. He reeled himself in and cleared his throat. “You can read about it when we get there.”

Jason frowned very slightly.

Danny felt his stomach twist. 

“What’s a Messier object?”

Oh. Danny relaxed. He talked with his hands as he explained the French astronomer, barely noticing the crowd swell that nearly bumped into him. Jason put an arm over his shoulder and steered him away. Danny absently recognized the assist but didn’t have any processing power to think about it right now. 

Jason let him go on for most of the date, which Danny would probably be embarrassed by later. In the moment, he basked in the attention. It was just nice, okay?

“I should head back.” Jason said with regret. His arm clenched just a little harder on Danny’s shoulder. His hand was warm where it hung down Danny’s chest. “Gotta get Duke his bribe and then get ready for work.” 

Danny waited for a moment. He didn’t want to step away. But maybe Jason didn’t either, because he didn’t take his arm off.

‘One of us has to move first.’

“Yeah, of course.” Danny regretfully disentangled himself, ducking out of the hold. He was a grownup or whatever. “Better get a move on. What are we getting for Duke?” They’d only snacked on ice cream while they were in the planetarium. 

Jason checked the time on his phone and let out a huffing sigh. “I don’t have time for my original plan.”

‘Because he humored me here for two hours…’

“Gimme a sec, I’ll call him and ask what he wants me to pick up.” Danny nodded in response and started jogging down the stairs out of the building, trying not to look like he was listening in. He didn’t want to listen in, he just had really good ears.

Ring once, ring twice. Then Duke picked up the call.

“Hey,” Jason said. “I-”

“Hey yourself,” said an unfamiliar voice that definitely was not Duke. It was sweet with malice.

‘Did Jason’s little brother get kidnapped while we were out?’ Danny wondered, struck still with horror. He stopped with one foot hovering over the next stair and wheeled around to look at his date.

Jason looked thunderous, brow pulled low and teeth showing. “Fuc- why do you have his phone?” Jason’s tone went high and aggrieved.

Danny prepared himself to beat the shit out of a living human. It wouldn’t be hard. 

“Because I am his favorite older brother. Obviously.”

Oh. The fight left Danny’s body in a rush.

“I am pressing X,” Jason snarked. He squeezed Danny’s shoulder and guided him into movement again. “Give it back to him and get out of my house.”

“Tu casa es mi casa,” said the man who had to be the infamous Dick, balcony infestation. “Why do you care?” His tone was so innocent that Danny sort of wanted to turn on his heel to escape whatever older shithead sibling fuckery this was. “Aren’t you busy making kissy faces at the summoning guy?”

Danny bounced off of Jason’s chest when he stopped walking midstep.

‘How does he know that? Jason didn’t say anything, right?’

“And, follow up question for Jay, does this make you a monsterfucker?” Duke howled with laughter in the background. Danny noted the betrayal. 

Dick sounded gleeful as he pushed on the topic. “He’s dead, right? What supernatural romance genre are you in? Is he going to take you to his creepy castle and keep you there? Does he have an ancient enemy who might kidnap you? Do you think he could carry you away when he rescues you? Are you looking forward to that?”

Danny huffed and yanked Jason’s hand down to bring the phone closer. He hit the speaker. “Of course I could carry him. But I would not keep him in my creepy castle against his will, you jerk,” he fumed. “And I don’t have any ancient enemies! At last, no one that I haven’t already beat up. It’s fine. Shut up and go away.” He crossed his arms.

Jason was bright red. Dick started laughing hysterically on the other side of the phone. “This is- hi, Danny!” he cackled. “You have a creepy castle, though? For the record?”

Oh no. He felt a rock form in his stomach.

‘I probably should have kept my mouth shut.’

He looked at Jason’s feet guiltily. Belatedly, he let go of his grip on Jason’s wrist.

“You sound great, wanna meet up? I need to hear about how you’re so sure you could carry my little brother away from danger. It sounds romantic.” Dick cooed. Ew. Danny bristled. This was bringing up all sorts of Jazz related trauma.

“He will not be meeting you.” Jason took the phone back. “Ever.”

“Ever?” Dick scoffed. “I really doubt that. I don’t think you could keep him away from me for one day.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason somehow puffed up his chest. “Then come find me, jackass.”

“See if I don’t.” 

Danny scoffed. “As if I need his help to dodge some nosy dweeb,” he sniffed. “Bring it, balcony creep.” He hit the end button before thinking about it.

The staircase suddenly seemed very quiet. 

Jason and Danny looked at the phone for a moment. Then Danny frowned as he realized what he’d done. “I was going to like, go back home,” he pointed out uneasily. “But that doesn’t seem in the spirit of this shitty brother challenge. And, uh.” He cleared his throat. “You had evening plans, right….”

Jason groaned and paced a few steps. He ran a hand through his hair. Danny idly watched it and wished it was his hand there. “Uh… Sorry. I can tell him to fuck off, that you’ve got better things to do.”

“...I don’t have better things to do,” Danny admitted. “I kinda want to see if he can hunt us. He’s just some guy, right?”

Jason made a face.

“Just a human guy?” Danny repeated slowly, because the hesitation there was uh, really interesting. 

“You remember how we met, right?” Jason sort of shuffled in place for a moment before he herded Danny down the sidewalk in the direction they had originally come from. “I wouldn’t say he’s a normal guy.”

…Oh, right, he’s a vigilante. Danny snorted. “That’s cute,” he said, not even trying to avoid cockiness. “I’m not worried.” He cracked his knuckles and didn’t pay attention to how bloodthirsty his grin was. “I am going to destroy your brother in a game of hide and seek so brutally that you won’t be able to look up to him afterwards.”

Jason opened his mouth. He closed it, with a considering expression. “That’s hot. Yeah, show me what you have. I can skip patrol for the night.” He gave Danny a roguish grin. “Where to, first? We have an hour before he’s out on the streets. We can get dinner, strategize?”

Danny closed his mouth on the boast that he didn’t need to strategize. This was a perfect opportunity to spend an hour batting his eyes at Jason from across a candlelit table. “Somewhere nice,” he said innocently. “He won’t immediately look for us at a date spot, will he?”

[5tarchaser]

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ heads up

pairings: ni-ki x reader ft. danielle of new jeans and mentions of jake

synopsis: sometimes getting hit on the head by a baseball can be something to bond over.

word count: 1063

warnings: mild swearing, poor attempts at humour

a/n: as somebody who has always been hit in the face by a sports ball growing up, hopefully this is a meet cute that can actually happen to me but thats probably still unrealistic lol. anyways here's a short little ni-ki oneshot!! i still dont know how i feel about it but its good enough ε-(ｰдｰ) will most likely be posting my jongseob smau soon so that will be my main focus :)) so oneshots may not be posted as often cause this writer cannot multitask :p

Sitting in class, you continuously check your phone, counting down the time until class ends. 

You feel a nudge on your shoulder, waking you up from your daze. Turning to the person beside you, Danielle whispers to you. “Mr. Hong may be smart and nice, but why does his voice have to be so gentle?” She puts her head down on the desk. "Like, it makes me sooo sleepy.”

"Agreed,” you say as you check your phone again for what seems like the 127th time.

“Why do you keep checking your phone? You got a hot date?” Dani teases.

You roll your eyes and respond, “I wish. More like a date to the dentist. Have to leave as soon as class ends, or else I'll have to wait thirty minutes for the next train.”

"Well, that sucks,"  Dani sighs. "Honestly, knowing you, you may not be able to make it considering how slow you run.”

You slapped her arm. “Hey! So not true. I’m just preserving energy.”

“Mmhm. Sure.”

Five minutes before class ends, you start to pack your things, getting ready to dash outside the classroom.

As the bell rings, you quickly run down the stairs, saying a quick goodbye to Dani as well as Mr. Hong. You couldn’t really care as people gave you odd looks for rushing towards the train station; some people may have thought that you just really needed to take a shit.

On the way to the train station, you have to pass by the sports field. Being completely unaware of your surroundings, you fail to hear someone shout toward you.

“Hey! Heads up!”

All of a sudden, a hard object hits you square on the side of your head, making you lose balance and fall to the ground. 

Aware of your position on the ground, a wave of embarrassment took over. You lay there for a bit, not wanting to make eye contact with the people around you. “Not gonna lie, you would think somebody would come and ask me if I’m alright,” you thought.

As you start to get up from the ground, the sound of footsteps can be heard running towards you.

"Hey, are you okay?” A tired yet deep and husky voice says

You look up from your position, seeing a boy around your age with a baseball mitt around his hand. “Why is this man so freaking tall?”

You watch as he mouths words, but no actual sound is coming out of those plumped, nevertheless sort of chapped lips.

He shakes your shoulder lightly. “Excuse me, are you okay?”

You shake your head, getting out of your daze, although that may have been a mistake, seeing that it made you more dizzy.

The boy reaches his hand out, and you grab them as he hoists you back up.

“I’m so sorry, that was quite a hit; it must’ve hurt,” he starts. “Normally Jake has better aim, and when he doesn't, I can normally catch it,” he says as he scratches the nape of his neck.

“It’s completely fine; it totally doesn’t hurt at all.” You respond nonchalantly. 

“Do you want some ice? I can get someone to get you some," he says as he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the practice field. “Here, just come sit on the bench and I’ll grab you some ice,” he says as he ushers a team member to get some ice.

“No, no, it's okay. I'm good. Kind of running late for something anyway, plus it really doesn't hurt.” You attempt to stand up.

The boy gently pushes you back on the bench. "Look, I'm sure whatever you have to do can wait, cause even if you say it doesn't hurt, the side of your head is definitely saying something else.”

You reach up to where the ball hit you, feeling a swollen bump starting to form. “Fine, you can give me ice, but after that, I'll be on my way to the station.”

He gives you a stern look. “Um, no, we still have to go with the standard precautions. You could have a concussion right now.”

"Look, I'm sure if I had one, I would know.”

“No, you're staying here. Practice ends in fifteen minutes anyway. So stay put.” He hands you a plastic bag of ice that his teammate got.

Being left with no choice, you watch as he runs to the center of the field. Watching as he throws and catches the ball around.

Not really knowing anything about baseball, you plug your earbuds in and slowly close your eyes to rest. “I'm already late at this point; I might as well rest.”

Little did you know, resting your eyes caused a little misunderstanding with the boy that had helped you. As he practiced, he took small glances at you every now and then. Seeing your eyes start to close caused him to immediately think you were about to faint.

Worried that you just became unconscious, the boy was unaware of the baseball that was being thrown towards him.

With history repeating itself, the boy fell face flat to the ground, a swollen bump starting to form on his head.

Waking up from your quick nap, you look beside you to see the same boy holding an ice pack on his head, similar to you.

“What the hell just happened?” You questioned.

“You know it turns out Jake over there really does have bad aim,” he jokes. “Or maybe I was just a teensy bit worried about you.”

“Worried about what?”

He explains, "Well, you closed your eyes; I thought you had fainted.” 

"Well, I didn't.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I can see that now.”

The two of you guys sat there with an awkward silence surrounding you. Feeling a bit better, you decide to grab your things, turning toward the boy beside you.

“You know, I never got your name. It would be nice to know who my hero is.”

“I'm Nishimura Riki, but people just call me Ni-ki. You?”

“I'm YN. Nice to meet you, Ni-ki, and thanks for helping me.”

He smiles, “Anytime.”

As you begin to turn away, a faraway voice can be heard.

“Hey! Heads up!”

You turn around and see Ni-ki in front of you with a baseball in his hand.

He screams towards his teammate, “You know Jake, you really do have shit aim!”

my masterlists

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[sugudoe]

❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣�� 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck — both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

[haikyu-mp4]

Hiya! Can i pls request Right Now with Ushijima? Thank you ❤❤

Now playing... Right Now

word count; 866 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

Ushijima wasn’t sure what made him so restless. Maybe it was because every task he did after coming back from work was halved. He made dinner for one, evening tea for one, and watched whatever he wanted on TV without any input from you. Everything he should be doing with you, he did by himself.

Playing in the Polish league was amazing volleyball-wise. The players were good and generally taller, presenting him and his team with new challenges and advantages. Training and playing was fun. He was also able to catch a few trips to visit Tendo, which he hadn’t been able to do as often before. Now he wasn’t that far away! But nothing could make up for the fact that you were now as far away from him as Tendo used to be. Unfortunately, your job requires you to stay in Japan.

Every night he felt it. Longed for the light snore he had come to associate with home. He felt it every time he was at his new apartment, and even more whenever something particularly new happened, something he would have to get used to or figure out. That’s when he needed his other half.

And right now, as he lay in bed after a long day of struggling with the language barrier and trying a new dish that didn’t quite work out, he wished you were there with him.

Rolling over and accepting that sleep wouldn’t greet him yet, he picked up his phone. He blinked a couple of times to get used to the brightness from the screen, switching the setting so it was more bearable before finally looking at the latest message notification. If he felt any drowsiness before, it was whisked away when he saw it was a message from you.

Call me when you wake up, my love. I have exciting news!

Wakatoshi checked the time back home in Japan before calling you immediately. It rang four times before he finally heard your voice. “Toshi! I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep. What is the exciting news, dearest?”

You giggled on the other end of the line, and the sound quality switched, so he assumed you had put him on speaker while multitasking. He smiled at the ceiling as he listened, closing his eyes and imagining himself there with you. “You know that company I sent you an article about? The one that’s completely home-office based,” you asked him, and he could sense an impatient excitement in your voice.

He hummed in confirmation. “I do. They seem to manage it very well so far, from what I read. It’s interesting, but I’m wondering how much they save on an office if they’re paying for part of the home-office expenses like they said they do.”

“I agree, but that does mean they get to pick and choose the best workers from all over the world!” you said, wiggling your eyebrows as if hinting at something, only to realise he couldn’t even see you.

“There must be a very large number of applications, I’m sure. I can not understand how they have the capacity to go through all of them,” he answered, seeming to get engaged in the topic, which was one of the traits you loved most about Wakatoshi. He always paid attention to the things you brought up.

“I suppose, but there might not be that many if you consider that people are not sure if it’s a reliable workplace yet,” you suggested. The discussion almost made you forget what you needed to tell him, but luckily he was there to get you back on track.

“You are very right. But are the exciting news related to this company? I did not know you were so invested in their growth.”

“Well, I certainly am now. They want me to work for them!” you squealed, and he could just imagine how you would dance around the kitchen.

His lips parted, and he stared into the nothingness of the dark roof as he registered what you said, and then slowly also realised what it might mean. “Congratulations. I did not know you applied.”

“I know, it felt like such a hopeless attempt that I didn’t want to talk about it. But I got through to the last interview and they really liked me,” you told him. Your happiness practically radiated through the phone.

“Of course they did, and they’re lucky to have you,” he said, and you were thrilled on the other end of the line when you heard his soft chuckle, undeniable proof of his joy. “Does this mean…” He dipped his tongue between his lips to wet them as a smile stretched out. “You could move here with me?”

Your steps echoed in the kitchen as you stomped your feet in excitement. “Yes! We can look at that tomorrow if you’d like. I miss you so much, Toshi.”

And Ushijima squeezed the duvet in the hand that wasn’t holding his phone as this immense relief overtook him.

Right now, he wishes you were there with him.

And soon, you will be.

“I miss you too, so much. I can’t wait to have you with me again.”

masterlist

[pamarik]

hi! can i request matsukawa x reader all-you-can-eat sushi date :3

EEEKKK of course!! He is so criminally underrated it makes me WEEP!! anyyywayss, I hope you enjoy this smooch smooch 🎕

❥ A Moment Together

After weeks of stress and barely speaking, you and Matsukawa finally get a quiet day together. The small, simple things remind you both why you’ve held on through the chaos.

━━━━━✁┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You’ve been tidying up your little apartment, you woke up surprisingly for a weekend, 6 AM early. It’s Saturday. Finally, some free time. You spent the entire week cramming textbook after textbook, note after note, and miserable presentations after another. Not a single night of decent sleep in sight—you’ve pulled one too many all-nighters this week. And yet… here you are, wide awake earlier than usual on your day off, practically radiating with energy.

Why though? 

Because you’re seeing him today. Matsukawa.

Your beloved boyfriend, Matsukawa Issei.

He’s been just as swamped as you, between exams and brutal volleyball practices that drained his poor body fully. Honestly, it’s no surprise you two had barely spoken these past couple of weeks. The most you exchanged were in the hallways between classes, poorly written good morning/good night texts, the occasional “I miss you,” and from time to time “I’m ending it tonight, nice knowing you ig” after pulling yet another all-nighter.

Logically, you both should’ve used today to rest, especially him, to recharge, recover. Your dark eyebags are basically war medals at this point, and your entire body feels like it's locked in a constant cringe from stress, face drained from whatever color was left. But none of that really matters now—not when you finally get to see him again. As cheesy as it sounds..

You finish off your chores, tackling the mess that had been piling up around your apartment throughout the week. The kitchen, the living room, the bathroom— hell even the little hallway—everything got a proper scrub. You stand in the middle of your spotless home, taking a proud deep breath as the clean, fresh scent hits your nose. So fresh, so shiny you thought as you wiped away the sweat on your forehead. The heat of the sun shining through the window and hitting your skin, making you feel warmer, but with a hint of comfort in it.

Eyeing your couch as you roll your shoulders back, why does it look so inviting. You let out a long, satisfied sigh as you tug off your oversized, bright yellow cleaning gloves and make your way over, but just as you’re about to collapse into the oh so welcoming cushions—

Buzz.

Your phone vibrates on the counter. You groan dramatically, dragging your hands down from your face and your feet lazily on the shiny floors to check it, expecting some notification about yet another assignment. But instead, your whole sour expression flips.

matsu!!

can’t wait to see ya

You stared at it for a second, absolutely dumbfounded.

….Right.

The date. Your date with Matsukawa. The very reason you woke up like a little kid on Christmas morning. How you managed to forget that for even five minutes was beyond you. My brain has finally reached it’s limit.

You don’t even bother replying, in a flash, you were already dashing to the bathroom with a big grin, jumping into the shower with newfound energy that was suddenly blessed down to you. The dust, the sweat— all of it washed away under the cool water. Tippy toeing quickly into your room, towel barely holding on as you dig through your closet. You're multitasking like a pro: scrolling through the train app with one hand, yanking a shirt over your head with the other as you reach across the floor with your foot to get your bag. 

Shit, I got 15 minutes.

You hop off the packed train and speed-walk toward the sushi place you and Matsukawa agreed on. The breeze was every bit as comforting as the sunlight that lingered on your skin from earlier. The second you pull your phone out to text him that you’ve arrived you feel two large hands grab your shoulders, swiftly pulling you into a firm chest.

Your soul leaves your body for a second.

What the actual hell who— Panic nearly hits full tilt until you hear it, that familiar low, chuckle. The one you’d know anywhere.

Matsukawa.

You turn in his hold eagerly, immediately wrapping your arms around him as you sink your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of the cologne you bought him a few months back hits you instantly.

Cute.

“Missed you so damn much, baby,” he mumbled before pulling away, his hands brushing over your shirt like he was trying to smooth it out—half an excuse to keep touching you, half a habit.

“Scared ya, right?” he added, flashing that boyish grin as the two of you stepped into the cozy little restaurant, the scent of rice, fried food and soy sauce already making your stomach rumble.

“Ehh, could do better. Maybe wear a mask next time—and quit giggling like a little boy,” you teased, shooting him an amused look as you both headed toward the table reserved for your date.

“Dunno,” he said, shameless as ever. “Worried you’d be into that.”

His cringy comment made your face twist as you muttered, “Creep,” under your breath, earning another chuckle from him.

You both sat down at the table, and he immediately spread his legs like he owned the space. You nudged his knee with yours “Close your legs”, you say under your breath, eyebrows slightly frowned.

He held his hands up in mock defense. “Sorry, sorry,” he drawled, that signature lazy grin stretching across his face, the same stupid grin that made your stomach do that ridiculous fluttery thing again. God, he is so handsome, it’s almost unfair.

You glanced toward the sushi conveyor and the small laminated menu perched on the sign next to your soy sauce bottle. Skimming it over, chin resting on your palm, you focused on the drink section, debating your options. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Matsukawa staring—trying and failing to look like he wasn’t caught watching you. His eyes flicked to the menu a little too late as he rubs his hands over the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Whatcha feeling for?” he asked, finally pulling himself out of whatever daze he was in, though his voice was still distracted.

You hummed, leaning forward a bit. “Hmm… I think I’ll just take whatever comes around. But that strawberry lemonade looks so refreshing… You don’t think it’s one of those scams, right? Like it looks all fancy n yummy in the picture but ends up tasting like soap or pure diabetes? God, it reminds me of that milkshake we ordered that one time in—”

You kept going, the memory pulling more words out of you than you expected, your tone shifting into playful frustration as your eyes stayed glued to the menu. Talking your heart out to your boyfriend… 

Who, frankly, wasn’t listening to a damn word.

His friends would pester the living soul out of him if they saw the state he was in, he thought to himself.

His expression lazy but soft, a little zoned out, like he was soaking in every second of being next to you again. After weeks apart, hurried greetings in hallways and photos of his partner just didn’t cut it. He looked like he wanted to rememorize every bit of you again.

“But… I am craving some lemonade now. Oh, they have minty ones too! Would you like that—Matsu?” You finally looked up and caught the dazed look on his face just in time. You felt the tiniest bit worried, maybe we should've rescheduled the date.

He blinked, noticing your expression, a hint of blush dusting his cheeks before he brushed it off with a casual shrug. “Sorry, zoned out for a sec. Coach has been more of a pain in the ass than usual”.

You gave him a knowing nod, deciding not to press it. The two of you drifted back into figuring out what to order, eyes flicking between the menu and the colorful sushi trays sliding by on the belt.

“I don’t even know what to talk about,” you muttered after a moment, pulling your chopsticks apart before picking up a plate with nigiri. “Not much to say after two weeks of getting kicked left and right, over and over—”

“Hmm, same,” he replied, already halfway through a mouthful of rice. “Iwaizumi almost broke Oikawa’s nose. That was funny though” his attention drifted from being fully on you to the meal in front of him. 

Boys are so easily impressed damn. 

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you reached across the table to grab a napkin and gently wiped the rice from the corner of his mouth. His attentive focus on the food went so easily back to you. 

Really easily impressed.

Matsukawa reached for another plate off the conveyor, barely checking what it was before popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum. You watched him chew like it was the most divine thing he'd ever tasted.

“You didn't even look at it,” you said, half-laughing.

He gestured vaguely with his chopsticks, elbows on the table “That’s the fun part..I guess. Living dangerously. Could be somethin’ spicy, could be somethin’ nasty.” he responds a bit sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin growing your lips gave you away. “If you start sweating and crying, I’m not saving you” you lean back a bit.

He smirked, swallowing his food before wiping his mouth, leaning slightly close over the table, breaking the new distance you created.

“Noted. I’ll just sob into your lap then”

“You're sappy”

“You love it, makes you even more sappy sweetpea” he bites back, dragging the corny nickname out in two slow syllables, heavier than the rest — all teasing

And unfortunately, yeah, you kinda did.

The restaurant hummed with a gentle ambiance — the soft whirring of the sushi conveyor belt, quiet chatter from nearby tables, the occasional clink of dishes and chopsticks. Overhead, a playlist of acoustic covers played just low enough to make you lean in closer to hear each other better from time to time. The lights were warm and golden, casting a soft glow across Matsukawa’s cheekbones, the arch of his nose, his dark eyes that kept drifting back to you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

You grabbed your lemonade when it finally arrived — the condensation beading down the side of the glass. You took a sip, then wrinkled your nose.

“Oh no, scam?" Matsukawa says with a relaxed smile, he can't help but feel a bit of pity, after noticing your disappointment.

“Not full scam,” you said thoughtfully. “But like... mildly fraudulent. You wanna try?”

He leaned forward, and instead of grabbing the straw you placed for him, he went straight for the rim of your glass. His lips brushed the edge where yours had just been, sipping as his eyes didn’t leave yours. It was a bold little move, casual, familiar and intimate all at once, and it sent a quick, unexpected heat crawling up your neck.

“Hmm… Yeah, tastes like someone whispered ‘strawberry’ into tap water,” he said after a beat. “Still kinda refreshing, though, at least it doesn't taste soapy”

You chuckle at his comment, hearing the softness in your voice makes his smile grow more. He rested his chin in his hand, ''You’re really here,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to you. “Feels weird not seeing you through a screen”.

Your hands slowed in their movements, the shift in tone subtle but grounding. You looked up at him, and something warm flickered in your chest — a soft ache that came with relief, with all the things you’d been holding in until now.

“Yeah,” you said, voice barely above a murmur. “I missed you” 

The pause that followed wasn't awkward. It felt full, like your bodies were catching up to the closeness you already had — the comfort that had stretched thin through busy days and late nights, in all the small, quiet moments where you’d catch yourself daydreaming about him and wondering if he was thinking of you too.

Which he did every single time, he thought of you more than you thought of him.

He blinked once, then tilted his head with that familiar spark of mischief. ’’Got an idea, wanna hear it?”

“Always”

“…Wanna race?”

You raised a brow. “Race?”

“See who can eat the most sushi. Loser pays.”

Your face was in confusion, then your lips curved into an amused grin. “Are you also trying to scam me?”

“Nooo…no no” he said, waving a hand in the air hastily, trying to look innocent and failing miserably. “I’m trying to make things fun ya know?”

You squinted at him. “Okay, fine. But if I win, you owe me dessert.”

He put his chopsticks down, in a playfully offended manner. “Hey, hey — no add-ons. My game, my rules”.

You smirked. “Scared I’ll actually win?”

He just grinned, ignoring your confident remark on victory. Pinky already extended between you. “Deal?”

You linked yours with his, the press of his finger against yours light and warm — it made his chest tighten for a second in that soft, familiar way. You squeezed once before letting go.

‘’Deal’’

The next twenty minutes were a blur of silent chaos. Plates stacked dangerously high. Your so-called strategy crumbled completely by round seven, when you grabbed something you thought had cucumber in it but turned out to be horseradish — and nearly cried, how did I even mix those two things up?! 

Matsukawa, of course, had a sly self-assured smile tinged with pride, barely chewing before tossing in another roll and flashing a victorious smirk.

“I’m gonna hurl,” you groaned, slouching dramatically in your seat as another tray rolled past.

“You can tap out,” he said through a mouthful of rice, smugness oozing.

“Never.”

But a few minutes later, pale and dramatically clutching your stomach, you lifted your napkin in surrender. “Okay. You win. I’m no match for your bottomless pit of a stomach...” 

He leaned back in his seat, all stretched out and satisfied, “Told you”.

You groaned again mutely, then forced yourself to sit up straight. “Fine, I’ll pay''. 

The two of you stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder under the soft overhead lights as the total came up on the little screen. You reached for your bag, but before you could even grab your card, Matsukawa casually tapped his first, smooth and unbothered. The transaction beeped, approved.

“ah but— !” you started, but he just gave the server a polite; “Thanks, have a good one,” and then without warning, reached back and grabbed your wrist.

“Let’s go before we miss the train” he said, not letting you bring up how he paid instead. He didn't even want to hear your gratitude.

No way in hell he’d ever let you pay for anything

You stumbled a step behind him, flustered, your wrist warm where he touched you. The moment was so casual, so confident, that it knocked the words right out of you. The way he guided you out — like it was natural to take care of you, natural to pull you along like you were his to look after, it left you feeling a little lightheaded in a way that had nothing to do with the food.

Outside, the city night greeted you with cool air and soft amber streetlights casting golden puddles across the pavement. The street had quieted to a peaceful lull — distant chatter, the low hum of passing cars, the rustle of leaves in a nearby tree. Matsukawa stepped onto the sidewalk beside you and let out a long, satisfied exhale.

His gesture hit you harder than expected. You kept feeling something within your chest whenever a day ended with him by your side, how can I put it into words?

Spoiled. That was the word for it. Spoiled.

The two of you walked in sync, toward the station. The streets were calm. You passed a glowing vending machine, a group of teenagers laughing near a convenience store, and a stray cat curled beneath a parked bicycle. Everything felt softened — quieter somehow — like the universe had turned the volume down just for the two of you.

Neither of you spoke much. There wasn’t a need to. You had your arms around his, seeking his warmth. 

When the train finally pulled in, the doors opened with a gentle chime. You both stepped inside, settling into two seats, just as the carriage rocked slightly into motion. You kept your eyes to the window as got comfortable. Matsukawa sat down beside you, thigh pressed warm against yours. For a moment, the world just moved around you — the faint rattle of the train, the rhythmic squeak of the rails, the low murmur of a few other passengers talking under their breath.

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a tangled pair of earphones, and handed you one.

You took it, no questions asked, tucking it gently into your ear. The music started — it’s my favorite song.

[moniericreative]

Joker and Neurodivergency: The Very Long ADHD Yappathon

So this is mostly just an excuse to ramble, project, and headcanon.

But the longer I've been working on my Dialogue Compilation Project... The more I've gradually started to notice bits about Joker as a character that hit pretty close to experiences I've also dealt with as someone neurodivergent, specifically someone with inattentive ADHD.

So how about we delve into it?

So as a foreward to describe the explanation process: What exactly is Inattentive ADHD?

Inattentive ADHD is a type of ADHD where children have a hard time paying attention but don’t necessarily exhibit hyperactive behavior.

In simpler terms, it's more of an internal hyperactivity. Like your brain or emotional regulation are constantly unrestrained. For instance: - Your thoughts tend to get scattered - Your short-term memory's spotty (i.e. you may struggle to repeat back something you were just told a few seconds ago) - You tend to dissassociate out of the blue due to a lack of stimulation - Your emotions might go 0-to-100 where it may be "nothing" or "suddenly everything at once" depending on what's going on (especially with external stimulants like crowds or sudden noises) - Etcetera.

And because of that lack of internal structure, it's difficult to: - Maintain habits or time awareness for some folks - Bodily queues like hunger or sleep simply don't register unless in extremes (like a low blood sugar, hunger shakes, or overall sleep deprivation crapiness).

And that's not even getting into the executive dysfunction or auditory processing issues... Hoo boy... 💪🥲

There's a wide variety of symptoms for each individual, nobody's the same. Heck some of these are experiences someone else might not even have, either.

Some of them even overlap with autism as well (and some folks might have both), but out of respect as someone who isn't autistic, I'll personally refrain from discussing about it here to avoid accidental stereotyping (but feel free to add to this with personal anecdotes if you like!). Mostly just going off my own experiences with ADHD.

So how exactly does any of this apply to Joker?

Well, some of the oh-so-fun things about being ADHD is:

- Needing consistent reminders for tasks

- Executive Dysfunction (especially when things go wrong or you feel like crap)

- Being able to Hyperfocus (i.e. "being in the zone" to a degree that you tune everything else out including the time spent on the task).

We know based on the Persona series' time-slot system that typically, Joker will spend hours doing a single task and only that task. There's no multitasking or anything. He is focused solely on whatever he starts doing, be it studying, making tools, training, etcetera.

(There's also smaller moments like the P5 Anime as well, where he'll actually get mildly frustrated with anyone that distracts him from a task he's focusing on. Specifically Akechi when he keeps trying to have a conversation with him while he's concentrating on using a pour-over. Or he's shown getting frustrated by an ever-increasing list of tasks in Mementos Mission:)

That sounds about normal for anyone though, right?

Well, here's the thing.

He usually doesn't stop until Morgana suggests he should.

This is different from previous Persona protagonists like Yu or Makoto/Kotone because they don't have someone like Morgana constantly reminding them that they've done plenty of work, or that they should head to bed. They just do it themselves.

On top of that, while party members (both from P5 itself and prior games) will occasionally remind you to "do [blank] by a certain date," Morgana's the one character that will consistently remind Joker (and you) several times in a single day, ranging from maybe a line or two, to three/four different ones every day the week before the deadline.

The one time Morgana's not present do this?

No afternoon or evening events to work on, Joker's just so damn miserable without his close friend that he holes himself up in Leblanc's Attic and does nothing for two days straight. Not even in said attic, it's standing around missing Morgana or going to sleep. Good 'ol depressed-flavoured executive dysfunction if ever I've felt one. 🥲

And on top of the "reminders" bit... Joker's also the only protag who has handwritten notes about events in the game on top of the Calendar Menu's summary too (courtesy of the notebook Sojiro gives him). Sometimes the date in the menu itself will be blank, but Joker will have these written down anyways:

Which is something that's often super helpful for ADHD folks when recalling our long-term memories (one of our bigger strengths), as specific details like these can help us piece the entire situation back together even if it was months/years ago.

(Good thing too in his case especially, considering the Interrogation Room plan hinged on him remembering everything)

So that's surely it, right?

NOPE.

There's another very important detail about Joker that's gets heavily underlooked:

Now we already know some key bits in regards to this information:

Sojiro absolutely doesn't starve him, and in fact he's not only willing to feed Joker on his way out the door, but he's also willing to teach him how to make Leblanc's food too.

And we also that eventually culminates in Strikers as a beloved game mechanic: Joker's Kitchen, which Joker does entirely of his own volition.

It's probably safe to say that he at least doesn't have a food aversion. I mean come on, he's got endless pockets full of random crap from vending machines, some of which sound absolutely inhumane. Or he's at a clinic guzzling random drugs with reckless abandon like the unhinged weirdo he is.

But with the above context that he has a tendency to lose track of time without Morgana's input, it adds a layer to this line that makes a lot of sense. Between being distracted by a task, and sometimes not having "hunger signals" at all, a lot of us tend to not even realize we've been starving all day. It's usually a state of "normal" nothing until oops it's Sudden Hunger Shakes O'Clock.

Which can also develop into just generally eating small portions of food as well, because again, we tend to "not feel hungry" unless it's extreme, and that can really affect our degree of appetite/intake.

Or in other cases, including my own and probably Joker's too until Strikers, there's a lack of general interest in food as a whole too. It's yet another time management task that you have to remember to do, every few hours, every single day, every single week, every single month, every single year. So you'll probably grab anything just so long as it's filling enough to get you by for the day. (Unless you have food aversion... Godspeed us all in finding filling safe foods that don't suddenly change and make us hurl 🫡💦). It's necessary of course, but there's a tedium to it sometimes regardless of the meal that you really have to fight with just to keep living.

Sumi gag aside, come on. Look at the sheer difference. That bun's smaller than Morgana's head and it's the barest minimum snack you can find anywhere.

"But what about the Big Bang Burger Challenge?" Come on man, we all know he's not doing it for the sake of eating. He's doing it to get smarter and prettier and kinder. The power of processed junk food filled with microplastics and employee tears I guess.

Distractability and focusing on a particular interest.

Obviously we don't go "SQUIRREL" at the drop of a hat like an excitable dog (despite how often people like to use that stereotype). But for some of us, our minds do tend to flitter around a bit in search of something to stimulate our brains.

Kinda like a zoo animal pacing around an enclosure, except it's our squishy brain trapped in a cage of bone and too little dopamine. 🫠

And in the abscence of something to work on or talk about, that can range from zoning out in classes/discussions (which Joker does a lot) to dissociate the boredom away (which ironically most people tend to see as "endless patience," if only they knew...), or looking for things to work on or talk about (which he... also tends to do a lot, depending on how much of the maps you explore).

And in Joker's case specifically, a lot of that tends to end up with him sticking his nose into situations that benefits the specific thing that gives him a purpose/drive (being a Phantom Thief), but are absolutely not normal things a teenager should be getting into.

Like dealing with the Yakuza. Or being the fake boyfriend of a drunk woman. Or paying his homeroom teacher to be a maid for him. Or a homoerotic shoot-out (... well, three separate times actually if you count an arcade game) with another teenage weirdo. Or T-Posing in a church to understand The Passion Of The Christ. Or unholy amounts of burger-eating to raise his "social stats."

He's willing to get into all kinds of mischief if it helps the Phantom Thieves. If it doesn't, then he's not particularly interested in starting anything with someone. More often than not, it takes Morgana mentioning how someone's services or skills "could help the thieves" to get Joker to be interested in them.

Or the person being especially pushy for him to cave in Maruki's case, to which Joker will make the same rationalization instead despite his initial pushback:

He's so dedicated to being a Phantom Thief that it's equal parts inspiring, relatable, hysterical, and sad to watch.

Especially since at the end of almost every single confidant (bar the party members', and Akechi's and Maruki's who both peg him as a thief pretty quickly through happenstance), every single one of them find out he's a Phantom Thief on their own. Because this poor boy is so tunnel-visioned on his role as "Joker" and helping people that he's about as subtle as a steel chair to the face and woefully unaware of it until it's told to him. 🥹

Lastly, NO TOUCHY.

Honestly, probably my favorite underrated bit about Joker that barely gets talked about.

Across the different P5 mediums (well, two as far as I'm aware of), there's at least one on-screen instance in each of Joker being touch-aversed whenever other people invade his personal space. Usually whenever he has physical contact with someone else (like any of the romaceable confidants, or Akechi), he's the one initiating it first.

In the P5 Anime you've got the bathouse scene between him, Ryuji, and Yusuke after Madarame's palace. In it, Ryuji jumps away from the hot water coming out of the faucet and bumps into Joker.

His response directed at Ryuji?

In English: "Please scoot back."

In Japanese (according to subs anyway): "You're making it hotter."

Both of which he says while hunched up with his shoulders to his ears and shooting Ryuji an unhappy expression.

Seriously. That is a "dead-inside and accepting reality" stare if ever I've felt one, choppy animation quality aside.

In P5 Royal meanwhile, you've got Yusuke's third awakening in Third Semester, where Joker says this when he suddenly grips his shoulders:

Both of which are basically the exact same message, just told in different ways.

... And that's not even going into how more often than not, any time we see Joker being touched on-screen by someone else, they're usually restraining or physically abusing him.

Whether you want to chalk that up to trauma from his initial arrest in the Shido Flashback, or as a ND aspect of his, is entirely up to you. Personally I'm leaning more on the latter as he usually only establishes this boundary with people he trusts (whereas he just outright avoids contact altogether around strangers), and he only breaks this boundary himself around specific people he cares about.

So with all that rambling finally done, hopefully this helps others notice some really cool bits of characterization around this loveable goofball. I won't say this a "100% accurate" interpretation of Joker as a character because everyone sees him differently. He is a self-insert after all.

But compared to the previous Persona protags (hell, even Atlus protags in general), Joker's always the one I immediately fall back to as the favorite for some reason. The coat is snazzy, he has a smirk that makes all the ladies and gay detectives weak at the knees, but... I could never really pinpoint the actual why until now.

Whether Atlus intended Joker to be neurodivergent-coded is up in the air, but there's just so many aspects about him beyond the player's control that hit really close to home, and I'm glad that he's such a popular and beloved character for the traits that make him him.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Mango Bat; Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He kisses Bernard deeper; slides his TTK up along his ribs and a hand up his thigh to tug it up; encourage Bernard into a position that’ll show him off too, even still in all his clothes. Doesn’t matter that he is, really. The dude’s cute and funny and hot and not even remotely hard to make look good, and he doubts Tim’s gonna complain about the show either way. 

“Jesus,” Bernard mumbles again, this time into his mouth, and kisses him back just a little bit harder. Harder, but–harder, but still careful. Like–still like he’s thinking about the “gentle” thing or whatever. Like he’s still thinking about what he thinks he’d like. 

Kon is straight-up just gonna ride this dude’s dick until Tim tells him to stop, he fucking swears. 

“Hey,” he says as he slides his hand a little higher up Bernard’s thigh to grip his ass and tug their hips together tighter, and his voice comes out a little softer and breathier than he means it to, but it’s whatever. Bernard bites his lip–Kon’s, not his own–and strokes his face. Kon feels warm, like something steaming or simmering, and leans down into the kiss and the contact both, but keeps talking between kisses. He can multitask; that’s a thing he can do. That’s a thing that he’ll fucking gladly do right now. “Mm. You’re not sore, are you?” 

“Oh my god,” Bernard mumbles, dropping his hands to half-cover his own face, and Kon can’t help letting out a little laugh before dropping another kiss against his mouth. 

“Just askin’, man,” he teases, giving his ass a little squeeze. “You’ve got a real good dick, don’t want you wearing it out this soon, right? We got a whole long weekend to get through here.” 

“Ohhhhh my god,” Bernard repeats very, very feelingly, and Kon grins before giving him another little kiss and rolling their hips together. Bernard comes up with some new gods to curse after all, apparently. “Jesus, fuck, you are unfairly hot, and also very kind to say literally any dick in this bed is ‘good’ with yours around to compete with.” 

“Dunno, man, can’t get fucked with my own, can I?” Kon muses jokingly, ducking down to nuzzle in along the other’s throat on another slow roll of their hips and burying a flashed grin there before deciding to be a little bit merciless and saying–“And yours felt so good, man, made me come like a fucking freight train.” 

“Oh my god,” Bernard repeats again, laughing helplessly and grabbing both the back of his hair and the back of his neck as he tips his head back for his mouth, which is an invitation that Kon obviously takes. 

Very fucking obviously does he take that invitation. And very fucking gladly, too.

[aoisitsonmyface]

(intro plays)

It was a stunning day in Rainwell South Islands. The sun shone brilliantly, casting golden light over the rolling green hills. The windmill spun lazily in the warm breeze, its creaking wooden blades a familiar sound. Nearby, the watermill hummed as the river carried its steady flow downstream, powering the village. Birds chirped, and children laughed as they played in the castle courtyard.

In the grand stone castle at the heart of the island, King Bon Asahina sat comfortably on his throne, his legs sprawled over the armrest, one hand lazily holding his phone. Of course, no one else had a phone in Rainwell South—electronics didn’t exist here—but Bon was the exception. No one knew where he got it from, but he always had it. As he scrolled through posts, something caught his eye.

A guy called @vergilsama92222 had posted some ridiculous nonsense about his beloved wife, Aoi Asahina. It was obvious nonsense—non-canon, outright lies. Bon didn't even feel angry. He just sighed and typed back, "That’s literally a non-canon lie." Moments later, chaos erupted. Vergilsama, and his equally furious friend @notpistol , responded immediately. They threw out insults, calling Bon delusional, mocking him, and making petty jabs about his life. Bon smirked, unaffected. **They were the delusional ones, believing their own lies.** "Pathetic," Bon muttered, his fingers tapping away as he mocked them back. **"stay mad, Aoi Asahina is MINES ONLY."** Twilight Sparkle, his ever-loyal secretary, sat beside him at her own desk. She pushed her glasses up, her violet eyes scanning the messages. "This is beyond childish," she said, levitating a quill and scribbling a note for the upcoming festival while multitasking insults. **"Do they really think their whining affects anything? It’s almost funny."** Bon chuckled. "Exactly. Look at them frothing over my response. It’s like watching dogs bark at the moon." Vergilsama was losing his mind, typing walls of text about how "Bon was the true liar" and how "everyone knew it." Notpistol, however, took an even stranger route—**he suddenly started simping for Bon.** **"I bet you smell good, Bon."** **"braid my hairs."** **"If we fought, you’d win, King. You’re strong."** Bon recoiled. "What the hell?" Twilight gagged. "Oh, that’s disgusting." But it didn’t stop there. Notpistol also brought up Bon’s closest companion, **Thomas the Tank Engine.** **"Thomas the TRAIN Engine is never on time"** Bon didn't even need to answer—**Thomas himself burst in through the castle doors.** "Listen here, you little sh—!" Thomas, the blue engine himself, was fuming, steam practically billowing from his funnel. "You’re lucky I’m not on Tumblr because I’d roast you so hard, you’d be a scrap heap!" Bon grinned. "See? Even my engine is done with your nonsense." As the argument raged on, a pair of furious blue eyes peeked over Bon’s shoulder. **Aoi Asahina.** "Who’s saying what about my husband?" she demanded, her ponytail bouncing as she leaned in. "These two idiots," Bon said, holding up the screen. Aoi read the messages, her face darkening with anger. "Oh, so they think they can just say whatever they want, huh?" She cracked her knuckles. "Lemme at ‘em." "They’re already suffering," Twilight smirked, watching as both vergilsama and notpistol were rapidly losing the argument. "Pathetic," Bon muttered one last time before ignoring them. And just like that, the drama was over. **Bon tossed his phone aside and returned to his real life—the one that mattered.** He strolled out into the sunlit courtyard, where Aoi, Fluttershy, and his **13 daughters** were waiting for him. The girls were playing together, their laughter filling the air. Aoi tugged at his sleeve. "You done arguing with losers now?" "Of course," Bon said, pulling her close. "They were never worth my time anyway." Aoi beamed. "Good. Now, let’s go swimming!" "Sounds like a plan." As Bon walked off with his wife and daughters, the windmill kept turning, the watermill kept flowing, and the kingdom of Rainwell South continued, untouched by the nonsense of the outside world.

(outro plays)

[snowleopardcrk]

“What a sorrowful end for you…But, I can fix that. I’ll put you back together, crumb by crumb...”

“It’s so…Cold…So, cold…It’s so…Empty, and cold… Where am I…?”

Of the Dreams Beyond

A Revolutionary Garden rewrite

After her near death experience when attempting to flee, Moonflower Cookie found herself in a void where the ground was embedded in little stars. Each little star was a fragment of a forgotten memory, by the convincing of a serpentine creature, Moonflower Cookie traps herself in a time loop she believes to be real.

Characters - OCs

This is a list of the notable characters within this AU, these are the Cookies you can ask questions as well.

Moonflower Cookie: We follow the story of this AU through her eyes. She’s the daughter of Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie and was baked before the Dark Flour War, yet her constant illness along side stress and anxiety in her childhood would form the present distant and colder self. Yet, could this forefront of her be entirely caused by her childhood experiences or could there be other factors at play?

Sweet Dream Cookie: She’s the spouse of Golden Cheese Cookie and has been for a very long time. She holds many mysteries and unanswered questions about her origins and her long life span that seems to match Golden Cheeses (she might even be older than Golden Cheese). She is still unconditionally loving and caring towards GC and her Kingdom (taking great care to study the kingdom, history and current events).

Snow Leopard Cookie: She is the apprentice to Crunchy Chip Cookie himself, after finding the little Cookie in the snow he took it upon himself to raise and train her like his own. The apprentice is nothing but dedicated towards the Dark Cacao Kingdom, but also finds great joy in cramming herself into tight spaces like crates or empty cabinets when off duty.

Sea Bunny Cookie: Though a later addition to the story, they function as a buddy towards Moonflower Cookie. Taking it upon herself to aid Moony in the health department (mental health specifically), keeping a close eye on her and to ensure her safety when possible. Sea Bunny Cookie is an upbeat and cheerful fella with a bombastic amount of energy and compassion for whatever they may set their gaze upon.

Characters - OCs

These are other OCs that you cannot ask directly but appear in the story.

Cloudy Pyrite Cookie: She’s the youngest daughter of Golden Cheese and Sweet Dream, she is very hard to keep up with and is quite impulsive with a dash of brattiness. She is always scurrying about trying to always do something to the dismay of Sweet Dream who can have trouble finding her sometimes if she’s trying to multitask.

Overseer / the Thousand Eyes: The serpentine of the abyss, it is a creature that looms around Moonflower, it’s presence unknown to everyone else in Moonys life. It is a creature of many contradictions yet no clear story on its anything, it’s intentions still unknown.

"Everyone has described to me what kind of joy and warmth one feels when your child is in your arms... Why cannot I feel warm? Its just, cold...She's no stranger, she's supposed to be my child."

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

Notes: Moonys voice claim comes from this video, both English and Japanese https://youtube.com/shorts/I6h-EmnqOps?si=dlHvkZmJJ_4OMXhb

(The girl in this video has an absolutely amazing voice) To be honest, I am excited for this rewrite <3 I've been working on it for a while (like, a month or two by now I've been planning).

Just to be warned, this stuff gets dark.

[dailycharacteroption]

Class Feature Friday: Sparkling Targe Study (Pathfinder Second Edition Magus Hybrid Study)

(art by Satyaki Sakar on Artstation)

I’ve said it before with the original version of the magus, but I am so very glad that archetypes for that class gave us options other than a one or two-handed weapon plus free hand, such as the skirnir, which let’s you play a sword and board build while also having spellcasting and the ability to go defensive by buffing up your shield as well.

While the 2e magus doesn’t have the same pool of power to enhance weapon or shield the way it’s 1e counterpart does, it does have it’s own way to play with shields in the same vein with the sparkling targe hybrid study, which is all about using a magical or mundane shield alongside your magic, enhancing it even as it protects you.

I like the new name as well. Feels very mystical while skirnir definitely feels more cultural in nature.

In any case, this study is perfect for those planning on a more defensive magus build, so let’s take a look to see how and why!

These magi start out training how to use shields to accept the brunt of enemy attacks, however, when they raise their shields (be they mundane or the result of a shield spell) as a part of an arcane cascade, the shield provides additional protection against all hostile attacks, even those that are not physical. Additionally, the shield itself becomes much more durable overall.

From there, the conflux spell of this study provides magical multitasking and coordination to allow them to strike and raise their shield in the same action.

The spells of this study are all defensive, granting wards against elemental energies, a ward that protects them when they focus their attacks on a single foe, and of course a spell for hardening the flesh against physical damage.

There are also feats associated with this option, including Emergency Targe, which lets them lift their shield or cast a shield spell reflexively before an attack strikes true, or Dazzling Block, letting their weapon flash with light on impact, blinding foes.

Other useful feats include Magus’s Analysis, Raise a Tome, Steady Spellcasting, Cascade Countermeasure, Reactive Strike, Shielded Tome, Arcane Shroud, Whirlwind Spell, or whatever else makes sense for the build.

Naturally, this option is very much for the defensively-minded magus players, and it succeeds that certainly with the various defensive buffs and methods for getting your shield raised to better protect yourself. One major pitfall that I’d avoid though. While the wording does suggest you can play a sparkling targe magus purely using the shield cantrip rather than a physical shield, I do not recommend it since this option offers no way to recharge the shield cantrip after it has blocked a blow, meaning that one successful block requires you to wait 10 minutes to use it again, which is not viable for combat. Instead, have a proper shield on hand and the shield spell as a backup. Overall for play, I recommend focusing on casting buffs at the start of combat to go into arcane cascade, and follow up with spellstrikes, spells, and normal combat as needed.

While First Edition’s skirnir has the cultural implication of being a shieldbearer for someone else, characters aren’t actually required to serve a noble house, and such is the case with these magi as well. Regardless, however, they do bear mighty shields, which is a perfect excuse to focus on the power of magical shields, which often get sidelined by magical weapons, I feel.

Though many of her kind view her, a ru-shi dhampir and wayang, with pity, Adiboa sees her heritage as a door to greater insights into the depths of shadow. Alongside the magical secrets she has learned, she also has mastered the art of weapon and shield, the better to ward others against evil.

The Loka people of the far north tend to eschew metal due to it’s rarity, but their mastery of runic magic enhances their wooden and bone weapons to match steel. This skill proves important against the dangers of the far north, where there magic shield-masters fight against beasts as mighty as corrupted yeti.

One’s role does not change simply because one’s pronouns and appearance do. Such is the case with Ifga, former shieldbearer now shieldmaiden, and she continues to stand watch over the seat of her jarl with glowing shield in hand. However, despite the acceptance around her, something else troubles her.