#i could not understand it no matter how hard i tried

[gglitch1dd]

Genuine question and it’s totally ok if you would never make it butttttttt would you ever write about Kane having a girlfriend or going out on a date and him either asking reader how to ask a girl on a date or how to tell a girl he likes them orrrrrrrrr reader and izuku see him on a date with a girl ? Maybe even katsuki finding out and trying to ruin it and they step in. This lowkey been on my mind since you did totally worth it. (Or maybe Kane asking reader and deku if he can bring his girlfriend home to meet them cause they’re such a big part of his life especially reader)

Meet my-

This had me thinking for a good 10 minutes but this is so WONDERFUL! I couldn't resist writing something small for it. Thank you so much for this idea anon.

Izuku and you had promptly shipped the sprouts to their grandmas for the afternoon. Today was a special day, a Kane day, which meant you would spend the afternoon how Kane wanted to and he had asked you and your husband if he could bring a girl over for a lunch.

"It isn't really a big deal, I understand if you say no." He said, really not stressed if it was an inconvenience to the both of you.

You sat wide eyed next to your husband with a broad grin on your face. "Inconvenience? No! Definitely not! We would love it. Wouldn't we, honey?" You asked turning to your husband.

He nodded his head as he turned to look at Kane with a smile on his face. "Definitely. We'll make sure the sprouts are on their best behaviour, even better, we can boot them out, for the afternoon." He told the blond.

You looked to your husband with a bright smile. "That's a great idea."

Kane's eyebrows furrowed as he looked to the both of you surprised. "I think that might be a bit extreme-"

"A Kane day is never an extreme thing." You stated perfectly set on what you had said.

Which was how your husband was setting the table for lunch, while you were just about finishing up. With no little sprouts to embarrass poor Kane and no Toshinori (no matter how hard he begged to stay), this would just be a day for you, Kane and his guest.

"I'm glad he's warmed up enough to ask us to have guests." You stated with a smile as you switched off the stove and took off your apron.

Izuku nodded at that statement, agreeing with you. "Indeed. Kane's a pretty private person but he's adjusted well so far being here." Izuku straightened up, snapping his neck for a second before shaking it out. He pulled up his sleeves revealing thick scarred arms. "But this must be serious if he wants to introduce a girl to ask."

"I didn't know he was seeing someone." You let out quietly. Normally you'd hear all your tea from Toshinori who would randomly find you wherever you tried to hide and just lounge about and start spilling whatever was happening in his life (which you liked more than you let on).

Izuku opened his mouth to speak but the door opened. You both glanced at each other. You quickly scurred over to his side, making sure to wipe your hands clean before standing beside your husband. You both put in your prefect public worthy smiles just as Kane walked into the room, holding the hand of a girl.

Kane looked over to her before motioning to her and looking at the both of you. "This is Zahrah Ahmed." He introduced.

The girl stood with a bright smile on her face. She had a beautiful white hijab on her with a white cardigan and dark long skirt. She bowed her head to the both of you respectfully. "It is an honour to meet you both."

Kane then moved to motion to the both of you with his hand, "Zahrah, these are my-"

"Midoriya Y/N, it's very nice to meet you." You bowed with a smile. "This is my husband Midoriya Izuku."

Izuku smiled with a bow of his own. "It's nice to meet you."

Zahrah gleamed. "Its an honour, ProHero Deku."

Kane sighed but chuckled. He turned to Zahrah and motioned to the both of you again. "These are my parents."

You and your husband both nearly sprained your necks with how fast you both looked to Kane. You were shocked. He had never said that before. He had never referred to the both of you that way either. You tried not to look at your husband as to not give Kane the wrong impression but you felt tears in your eyes as you smiled and leaned against Izuku. Izuku tightened his hold you with a great smile on his face.

"How about we have lunch?

-Glitch1d

[nanamis-princess]

Can I rq jjk x depressed reader hcs? And gn reader please!!

Love your works btw, 10/10! You're genuinely one of my favorite people on here

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Jujitsu Kaisen men x depressed reader headcanons

Synopsis: your depressed & they wanna make you feel better:)

Genre: fluff with a dose of depression

T/w: depression, mentions of geto making someone go bye bye loll, not being able to take care of yourself. Plz lmk if I missed anything.

Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Yuji, Megumi (separate) X gen reader

Nanami

-Nanami is a very observant partner, that new ice cream flavor you tried and said you liked is now written down in his notes app. When he brought you as his plus one to his company dinner party, he could tell you weren’t found of one of his coworker without you having to say a word about it. He dismissed you both and you carried on with the night. So Kento notices when you start slipping, sometimes even before you do.

-kento will use his sick days to spend time with you, to make sure you’re okay. You’ll spend the morning cuddling, if you want to be held he will hold you and kiss your forehead.

- If you start crying he lets you get it out, he will wipe your tears away. Kento runs his hands along to your upper cheek after wipe your tears, rubbing your temple as tears run down your cheek. “You’ll get through this I promise” he says rubbing your temple near the roots of your hair.

-if you are in a state where you can eat he will prepare you a home cooked meal along with a glass of water. But if you prefer takeout he’ll get it for you, whatever you want to eat its yours as long as you are eating something. Eating together on the couch with light rain hitting the widow, snuggled in with blankets and candles going.

-if you aren’t able to eat he’ll just you take a few bites so you have something in your system along with a glass of water. He also encourages you to indulge, you are already going through enough and he wants you to take it easy.

-along with trying to make it easy if you take any medication he has reminders on his phone until it’s mussel memory to remind you. He cleans up after you as well, he knows how hard it is to get through this and wants to make this process as easy for you as he can.

-he takes care of your hair for you, he’ll bathe you while using essential oils and helps you get dressed along with your nightly routine. “I’m so proud of you for making it through today darling, I know it was draining” he say in a low tone as he rubs the lotion onto your back. He places a soft kiss to your shoulder.

-during the day he gets you out of the bed and to sit in the living room with him, just so you are up out of bed. He picks you up carrying you to the living room along with your comfort blanket. He puts on your comfort show or movie.

Gojo

-He’s a very quick learner, he learned how to take care of you, what to do and what not to do. Satoru will not let you slip through his fingers he will be right there for you. When he was younger he didn’t understand what Geto was going through, now he does so he truly means he will never let you fall.

-after an evening of teaching he comes home with goodies for you and him to share, along with gossip of course to see you teary eyed on your shared bed with your day time clothe still on. The past few days just took a lot from you and he can tell. “My cutie patootie gumdrop what’s wrong?” He asks using the nicknames you laugh at but with actual concern.

-he understands if you prefer not to talk about how you feel or if something made you feel this way but he listens if you do. “If its not easy to talk about right now, we don’t have to” he says softly. Satoru sits at the edge of the bed with you as he gentle wipes off your makeup. After running you a bath and getting you settled in for the evening you both lay in bed eating the sweets he brought home for the two of you.

-it doesn’t matter if he is up all night, he makes sure that you some how get one rest if you have a hard time getting sleep. But if you sleep for long periods of time he lets you. You guys even take naps together, he puts on rains sounds or white noise, your stuffed animals and fluffy bedsheets.

-Satoru makes sure you eat something, big or small portions all that matters is you eat. Along with medication, he even gets you a sweet treat to eat after you take it along with kisses all over your face. “Now that the hard part is done” he kisses your cheek “we can do what you want” he gives you another kiss on the cheek. “We can watch a movie, or that new season of that show you wanted to watch?”

-the next morning after you’ve been going through it you wake up to the curtains slightly open letting some sunshine in with flowers on your nightstand and piece of media you’d been eyeing lately. Along with the smell of breakfast flowing through the apartment.

Geto

-as we know he’s been through this himself so he can spot it a mile away, he stops you mid way as you are trying to make a cup of coffee/tea for yourself. “I can make it, go sit I’ll bring it to you” he say with compassion and a small kiss to your forehead.

-when all you want to do is curl into a ball and do nothing, he lets you but he never leaves your side. Even when its hard he tries to take care of you, getting you to eat or take a shower together. He wants to make this go away for you, so you don’t stuffer anymore. You don’t deserve to suffer.

-if something is bothering you he encourages you to talk about what made you fall into this pit, if he’s able to fix it he will. Annoying coworker or boss that wont leave you alone? That’s too bad they went missing.

-he doesn’t want you to be alone he wants to be right there with you. He cups your face as your tears fall, his thumb wipes them away. “Breath in 1..2..3..4..5, hold it. Breath out 1..2..3..4..5” he says quietly looking into your eyes. “The storm will pass I promise” he says before kissing your cheeks lovingly.

- The curtains are slightly open as the sun goes down your head gentle resting on his thigh as he gently plays with a strand of your hair whiling reading to you.

Yuji

-he loves making you smile and laugh, he will do anything to make you happy. His heart aches when he notices the depression coming back again, he just wants to pick you up and run from it so you never feel that way ever again.

-yuji will take a shower with you while a playlist of your favorite songs are playing, he understands if you just want to get in and out to lay back down so he takes care of washing your body and hair. He gives you a back massage too. He gives you his favorite hoodie that smells like his cologne, it’s a pull over hoodie that he got for his birthday.

-he read somewhere that your environment impacts your mental health so when you go through this he cleans the apartment and lights candles that are your favorite scent.

-holds you all day, all night and every moment that he can. Giving you forehead kisses or kisses on top your head. You guys also have a movie marathon until you feel better, he always lets you pick what you watch.

-has many many many reminders in his phone to remind you to take your medication if you take any. He will even make you milkshakes to take with it.

Megumi

-like nanami he is very observant especially about the ones he loves, he always keeps tabs on you so when it rises he’s ready to take care of you and be there. Doesn’t want you to lift a finger, he just wants you to ride this out. “I promise it won’t last forever, you will come out on top” he says before kissing your temple.

-when he washes your hair and body for he also is washing the bedding. He added essential oils like lavender or eucalyptus to help with calmness.

-pulls you gently to lay on his chest as you drift back asleep. You both take long naps together, you always wake up in his arms.

-he already reminds you everyday to take your medication, this is no different. Expect he got you a new plushy along & your favorite candy along with your refill.

-when he’s up making dinner you got up to use the bathroom, on your side of the bed on the floor you find a stick and a chew toy along with both the dogs on your side of the bed. When realizing you got up they both stood up to follow.

A/N: I really hope you like this! Ur so sweet thank you for saying that! As someone who struggles with depression this made me smile. For anyone going through it, you’ll get through it babes I promise. Plz try drinking water & getting something in your stomach. You deserve amazing things and to take care of yourself.

[tenderleavesbob]

It was amazing that someone so beautiful could come from something so ugly.

Link rocked the baby in his arms, unable to look away from his soft, sleeping face. He was so small. Link wasn't a big man, but his hand completely covered the baby's tiny head.

A baby. His son. Link's eyes burned. He held the baby closer and hummed a lullaby his mother used his hum to him so long ago.

Lana watched him, her anxiety and hope clear on her face. Link had been angry at her during the war for keeping her secret for so long and he often felt edgy around her. She made it clear what she wanted from him, but unlike Cia, she had never forced it. It was painful but it was something in her favor. Link had felt uncomfortable and stressed but until today, he had never hated her. The brighter the hope shone in her eyes, the more that pain and rage and hate grew, no matter how much Link wished he could control it.

His son's tiny left hand was empty. Clean. Link rubbed it between his fingers. His thumb covered the back of his son's hand.

"Link," Lana said quietly.

"Does anyone else know?" Link cut off. He didn't want to hear it.

Lana hunched in on herself. Her gaze remained fixed on him. "Volga might know," she admitted. "No one else. She kept it hidden."

It felt hard to breathe. Link just wanted to sit in the corner and curl around the innocent baby in his arms. He wanted to hold him close and block out the world. He wanted to grab his horse and flee with his son.

Further up his son's left arm, just by the armpit, there was a small, heart-shaped mark. It was appropriate. Just looking at it was breaking Link's heart.

"And you," Link said. The threat was clear in his voice. He took no satisfaction when Lana flinched.

"And me," Lana agreed. Her voice wavered before her awful hope rose again. "This baby... He's your son. And Cia's. Which means --"

Link cut her off again. If he didn't, it would be his sword and not his words silencing her. "Which means he can't stay here."

Lana faltered. He knew what she wanted. He knew what she was going to say, and he didn't hate many people but right then, he hated her. "I don't. I don't understand."

Link recognized that birthmark. Years ago, he had washed mud and other things off a squirming, complaining gremlin of a child. He had seen it then. He had seen it when he helped that child change and helped bandage his wounds and when he helped wash him after too many adventures. He had seen it later when that child stood before him as a man, helping bandage his wounds again and again.

He had thought he knew pain. He was wrong.

"He can't stay here," Link said. "If he stays in this era, the truth of his birth will become known, and survivors of the war will hunt him. He'll be hunted by Hylians and Ganondorf's forces alike."

"But --" Lana tried again.

Link tenderly kissed his son's head. How strange that he knew his son first as a child, then an adult, and now a baby. During the war, people had teased them and called them father and son. If only they knew.

"But nothing," Link said quietly. "Open a portal. You know where he must go."

To the Lost Woods centuries in the past. To be raised by the Great Deku Tree.

Link knew his baby would meet him again, but he would never know what Link was to him. He would never know how deeply he was loved.

"If you ever breathe a word about this," Link continued, "I will kill you. No one will ever find your body. No one will ever know what happened to you. Do you understand me?"

The hope was gone from Lana's eyes. Link took no satisfaction from that, either. "I understand."

Link nodded and kissed his son again. How strange that Cia's obsession with the spirit of the hero gave birth to one of the greatest heroes of all.

It was also terribly fitting that the legendary Hero of Time would become a hero in a time not his own.

"I love you, Link," he said softly. "I'll always love you. Good-bye."

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 7

Read Ding here | ~4.6k words

Warnings: punching, fighting, fixing my cliff hanger from the previous part.

From me: This is the last part, but I tried to keep the ending open a bit so I could come back if you want 💕 thanks for reading this one. Hope you liked it!

Summary: Harry isn't the only one fighting the night of the biggest match of his career.

Three minutes.

Each round was three minutes.

She thought over the last few months of watching Harry train had engraved a three-minute timer into her internal clock. Like her mind was able to simultaneously count out 180 seconds and continue working on whatever project she was tasked with at the time.

The crowd was so loud—just several feet behind a door. She thought about her phone. The one she left with Niall so it wouldn’t get lost while she tried to get towels, food, and use the restroom. Alongside Harry’s phone. Part of her believed even if she could have used it, Niall wouldn’t have heard it anyway. She straightened her back, standing taller and preparing herself. She pulled against his grip on her arm. Her heart was pounding but she felt it in her bones.

She could do this. She had to do this.

She heard Harry’s voice teaching her all the self-defense moves she had practiced for months in the back of her head. She thought about the classes, the training in her living room.

The goal isn’t to win. S’not a boxing match. Want t’minimize you getting hurt. Your only goal is t’get away safely. If y’get away, you’re gonna come find me, Cupcake. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you.

“What’s your problem?” She snapped.

“You told other girls about me?”

“No, I warned them.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her.

“You’re a bitch.” She tried to keep the nerves from getting to her.

She could run out the back door and try her best to get to the front again. Harry would understand. It would be better than being the sitting duck she was now. There was the whole no phone thing but at least the security guard would recognize her. He would keep an eye on her. No way he’d be willing to face the wrath of Harry for not doing so.

She pulled on her arm again trying to loosen his grip. She thought about the shower she took after their date. If it could really be called a date. Despite everything happening in the moment she had the intense desire to look up the definition of date because that could nothave been a date. A date had to have some sort of mutual feeling of companionship or amicable emotion. The way his body felt on hers made her skin crawl.

She didn’t want it then and she didn’t want it now.

“Let go,” she ordered.

“You’re—”

“I said let go,” she pulled hard, dragging both of them further back into the room but closer to the backdoor.

“Stop—”

“Let go, or you’ll regret it.”

He chuckled; it sounded sarcastic. Disbelief evident in his tone—even his short laughter. “What are you going to do?” He taunted. Honestly, part of her wanted to know the same thing. What was his plan? Attack her alone in the back of this place? It was obvious. Niall would come looking for her sooner or later. Someone would come back here because they needed towels. It was a matter of when not if. All she needed to do was hold him off.

Fortunately, she had been given all the lessons on how to do just that.

“Let go,” she repeated, feeling stronger than that awful night and more so than she had in the months since. “Harry—”

“Your boyfriend is busy.”

With a deep breath, she realized she had lost count of the seconds. Was the round over? She didn’t know. But she knew Harry was safe. Harry would never fuck around with consent. He said so himself. Harry was going to rip Jack’s arm off. Hell, Harry would rip his own arm off if she asked him to.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Clenched her jaw and yanked on her wrist in his hand again. “If you don’t let go, he’s going to see. Then you’ll wish you never touched me,” she vowed.

He smiled darkly. “He’s not going to see,” he promised.

Despite how much stronger she felt than the day she met him, she was still scared. Her stomach twisted; nausea ensued. There was a genuine fear growing inside her that felt very similar to how it felt right before she thought was going to throw up. The feeling rose to her throat, and it took all her control to swallow it back down. She inhaled deeply through her nose and brought all the steps and moves Harry had taught her in the self-defense classes to the forefront of her mind.

Jack was bigger, stronger, and way more terrifying than she was.

But she was determinedto get away.

“Let. Go.” She ground her teeth together tugging on her arm that she knew was going to bruise.

“Just—”

“I’m going to scream,” she could see the irritation on his face as she continued to interrupt him.

“Don’t you dare you stupid, little—”

She was glad her dominant hand was free and used it smashed her palm into his nose so hard she felt a crunch and was immediately met with a stream of blood. It poured immediately on her hand, and she should have been more grossed out but before she could think about it for long, she bolted back for the main room.

He groaned loudly but chased after her. He reached her at the door, grabbed her arm, and flung her back to the ground. She yelped as her body landed with a thud. Her head hit the ground making her wince involuntarily. She could hear people cheering. No one would hear her if she screamed. He knew that.

Harry wouldn’t get to her.

The mere thought terrified her.

She kicked. Making minimal contact with some part of him but did leave him incapacitated for just a moment—a moment she needed. He cursed lowly under his breath. Her mind was working at the same slow pace she crawled and clawed at the ground, blood dripping on her shirt from his nose as he stood over her clutching his groin. Harry told her the most vulnerable position she could be was defending herself on her back. She was mortified. Her adrenaline screamed through her veins.

The announcer was calling something about Harry and the match. There’s a ding, ding, ding signaling the end of the round or the beginning of the next. She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was she wanted to be in there. She wanted Harry to see her. She was certain he would stop in the middle of a round for her.

“You broke my nose,” He snarled.

It took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from saying good with a smug smile. Her heart was in her throat. Clawing uselessly at the floor knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere at that rate. She kicked again, trying to remember the training and the moves Harry made her practice in her apartment. Her instinct was taking over and arguably making it worse for her just as Harry had warned.

The air suddenly felt so thin. It was difficult for her to keep breathing steady—scared and anxious out of her mind. She could see little black dots in her vision with anxiety taking over. The roar of the crowd made everything she needed to do impossible to focus on.

But the little voice in her head had a nearly melodic British accent now. Slow, steady. Encouraging.

It screamed at her to get up and keep going.

She slammed her foot into his leg, just at his knee, knocking him off balance. He landed just as hard as she did. She knew he was going to get up quick, so she needed to be quicker. She leapt from the floor and burst through the double doors. She sprinted toward the ring. He was hot on her heels she could feel it, but she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. Not when security shouted at her and not when the attention of people watching finally got them yelling for her.

She told Harry earlier that day she wasn’t lucky. But at that moment she was. Perhaps the luckiest person ever. She felt it in her bones, and she planned to thank every divine spirit in the universe when she reflected on it later. There was the briefest moment in every round right after the bell rang where there was the slightest down pitch in volume as the cheering stopped and people waited to see who would make the first move in the ring.

That moment happened the second she was close enough for her voice to carry the final distance to Harry. “Harry!” Her voice was cracked and broken but she knewhe heard it just because of the volume of her shriek. She believed everyone in the arena heard it.

She wasn’t quiet about it; just like Harry (and Louis) taught her. Her voice was so loud even the referee looked over and watched as the man chasing her grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back to the floor. Her head hit hard against the hardwood. Stars reappeared in her vision, and she wondered if this was what a concussion felt like. For a moment she was stunned. Forgot that she was supposed to be fighting for her safety. Defending herself. The seconds ticked by so slowly, she wondered if she was going to pass out. There was a deafening quiet, muffled shouting; like a scene in a movie where the hero is aware of her surroundings but can’t quite get a grasp on it.

It was weird it was happening to her in real time, and she blinked rapidly trying to get her vision to focus and her hearing to return. But she was able to register in her confused mind that she was in the main arena. Because even if Harry didn’t hear her, she knew that everyone saw him take her down to the floor.

That was the goal. To get away and find a crowd.

She did it.

“You stupid, fucking bit—” the sound came roaring back so loudly it felt like he was shouting right in her ear. But he was standing above her again still dripping blood on her clothing. His face was in her vision for half a second. But that was all he got. Half a second. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her heart was flying so fast, so she knewhis smug expression was hardly in her scattered vision for a mere fraction of a second. Not even one whole beat thudded against her ribcage and then he was gone.

Once more someone was standing over her, but unlike moments before, she felt so utterly safe.

Harry was there. Like some Greek god scorned. She almost felt bad for Jack. Because the thought of being on the receiving end of the look she could only imagine Harry was giving made her shiver. Half-naked, his black shorts, his black gloves hung at his hips, and she could tell his hands were balled into tight fists inside his gloves. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders even at her angle. The heaving breaths he was taking.

Briefly, he turned his neck, to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were furious and wild. There was a cut on his eyebrow again—probably the same one that kept reopening without the proper time to heal. She could see the redness on his ribcage starting where she knew he’d be bruised like a peach in the morning. His jaw was sharp, teeth gnashed together, lip curled in a terrifying snarl.

He turned back to him, on the ground, holding his face with blood still pouring from his nose. “You goddamn piece of fucking shit,” he growled.

The adrenaline in her veins stopped working overtime. With Harry standing over her, his feet shoulder width apart straddled on either side of her legs she felt herself relax. He was ready to fight—of course he was. He was in the ring only moments ago. His stance was itching to punch someone. He had that look in his eye that he had in the first round. But now it could have been the fifth or six round that she had interrupted. She didn’t know because she wasn’t there to see and lost track of counting the seconds. “What did you do to her?” He snarled.

Reason began to return to her mind. Harry was going to kill him—which would really put a damper on their night if he went to jail or something. “Harry,” her voice broke hoping that maybe he’d just let it go. She was safe now.

But she also knew it was well past the point of return for her boyfriend. Someone hurt her. He saw it.

Harry wouldn’t take it lightly. Couldn’t. He promised her dad. He promised her.

“Harry,” Louis hissed sensing the same thing that she did.

“Oh shit,” Niall hurried to her. “Are you alright, Cupcake?” he cooed gently and tugged her from beneath the arms and out from under Harry’s threatening stance. Niall held her the way she wanted Harry to hold her. His hands were on her cheeks, assessing her quickly, searching for a signal that she was okay. “Is this you?” He asked, looking at the blood all over her shirt as he searched for the injury that caused it.

Harry was still heaving, waiting for his opportunity. Her voice was dead in her throat trying to answer Niall but the only word that would leave her mouth was Harry’s name. It made him even angrier; terrified and hurt that she was possibly hurt. So hurt she couldn’t respond to Niall’s question—a question that Harry wanted her to answer just as badly.

“She broke my fucking nose,” he growled, eyes intent on her even though he nearly had to peer around Harry to look at her.

The whole arena froze.

She couldn’t see Harry’s face any longer, but she could sense a pleased smile was on his lips. Niall glanced away from checking her over as the smile passed over his lips as well. Hiding how happy he was that the blood was not hers. Louis, despite how pissed he was at Harry, couldn’t help the little smile that graced his face, either; proud that she used his lessons to help herself.

She swore everyone in that arena was smiling.

Harry turned back to her in Niall’s arms and winked at her. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

In spite of how scared she was, how sad she was, how much her head hurt… nothing but pride filled her body in that moment.

Then Harry lunged for him.

*

It took Niall, Louis, and Harry’s opponent from the ring to pull him away from pummeling him beyond recognition. Niall had nearly dropped her after he lunged. Grabbing his arms before he could do more damage than two punches. Louis suffered at least one punch to the face himself which she was sure was going to be returned in kind during Harry’s next training session. It would probably do Louis wonders to just punch Harry once and for all.

But naturally, it was her that stopped him. Her head ached and she wanted to lie down but she stood anyway. As Harry fought tooth and nail to be released from the hold of his friends and opponent, she stepped in front of him catching his murderous gaze. “Harry please,” she pleaded her eyes watery with all kinds of emotions coursing through her. She was wobbly on her feet, and she felt a little nauseous fearing her head injury was worse than she thought without all the adrenaline flowing through her. She put a hand on her head and winced in pain while trying to keep herself from swaying in front of him.

There were police and security guards and all kinds of shouting. But Harry finally saw her, his breath was shallow, his opponent from the ring was standing in front of him as well; a gloved hand pressed to his chest while Niall and Louis held each arm forcing him back. But it was her voice, her tear-filled eyes, that made him stop. His breathing started to slow. He swallowed hard, glaring at the opponent he wanted more than the one that was in the ring only a few moments earlier.

He gave Louis and Niall a shove. “M’alright,” he snapped and pushed his opponent out of the way. Within two seconds she was in his arms. Feet floating off the ground and he swore he never heard the crowd cheer for him the way they did then.

Harry didn’t even revel in it. He loved boxing. It was cathartic for him. Competitively, he was good at it. But he wanted nothing more than to not be in that arena and never come back. Her body was warm against his skin. He was cool with sweat. “Let’s go, Cupcake,” he murmured in her ear and started back for the locker room.

*

Harry was disqualified from his match. A single “1” in his loss column that upset her more than it did him. He was icing her hand and arm where his fingerprints left bruises. He kept rubbing her shoulders, her temples, and any of her muscles that ached in her back without the hormones that dulled her senses during her own fight. The intensity of it all, all that adrenaline subsided and made her body crash. All her muscles ached with the notion something happened.

And she stopped it.

Harry, despite everything, could not stop smiling as if she had boxed her own match and won. “I’m so proud of you, Cupcake,” he murmured and kissed the back of her achy head. It was sore from where it hit the floor (twice—once harder than the other). Louis deduced she did have a concussion; so, Harry was doting on her as if his life depended on it. Now that they were home in his apartment, he was much calmer—surprisingly. Granted, inside his home was safe. She imagined anywhere in public he was going to turn into a bit of a crazy person when it came to her safety. Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see him in action. She didn’t want him to act insane, but the worry was nice in his own way. (Plus, she was pretty certain she could get him to relax with the promise of kisses.) “When you’re able to, I want to know everything.”

“I don’t like punching,” she told him wrinkling her nose even though he couldn’t see her. He chuckled.

“I know, kitten.” He shifted her in his lap so she was propped against the armrest of his sofa, her legs strewn across his thighs. Now he could see her face. His smile was lazy, adorable, boyish once more. Hard to believe someone so cute could be terrifying when needed.

“I broke his nose,” she reminded him quietly.

“I know, Cupcake,” he answered tiredly. His own body was sore, his mind exhausted. She could see him practically snoring while talking his eyes turning to slits as he tilled his head against the back of the couch. One arm draped over the front of her body protectively. His other hand pulled at her hair gently as possible, massaging her scalp where he knew that horrible, moronic man yanked it hardest when she was running from him. “M’so proud of you,” he murmured.

Her cheeks turned pink under his praise, but she remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you were disqualified,” her frown was deep.

“Kitten,” he tutted opening his eyes at the same time, a renewed sense of energy had him looking at her with such disapproval. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Nothing’s important as you,” he promised, a frown touching his lips.

“But you were undefeated, it bothers me.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes again—maybe the smallest part of him feeling bad for himself. “But it doesn’t bother me, Cupcake. I’d rather lose m’undefeated record for this than ever let something happen t’you. Rather have a losing record. Far as m’concerned, m’still undefeated. Honestly, y’should see the other guy,” he smirked ruefully. She watched his gentle breathing, felt the soft pull of her hair on the back of her head, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“I wish I could’ve—”

“Uh-uh, Cupcake,” he interrupted, his voice quietly on the edge of sleep. His mind reeled with the thoughts from the locker room.

Harry paced, still angry beyond belief. He settled her on the bench that he usually sat on after a fight. His doctor and Louis looked her over. “She hit her head hard on the ground,” Louis murmured looming over the doctor’s shoulder as he examined her eyes. Harry punched the locker nearby creating a dent the size of his glove. She flinched at the sound as he paced. The doctor didn’t move.

“Twice,” she offered weakly.

Twice? He growled low in his throat. Niall was right beside him in case he tried to make a break for it and find him again. Niall planned on tripping Harry worst case scenario to keep him from leaving.

“Twice?” Louis repeated curiously. “Shit, babe,” he frowned. Harry punched the locker two more times, making her flinch again. “Harry, she’s already scared out of her mind,” he snapped angrily. Harry was still pacing. Niall paced alongside him, trying to keep him calm. Her eyes locked on Harry as he paced, and the doctor looked her over. She felt like she was blinking a thousand times per second. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Harry.

“Do you have any other injuries?” The doctor asked. She shook her head.

“Just my head.”

“You’re sure? This is a lot of blood.”

Harry growled again. She glanced at him nervously again. “S’not mine,” she whispered reassuringly.

The doctor smirked, patted her knee as he nodded. “Good girl. Harry, you taught her well,” he assured. “Ice. Harry, I am to presume you’ll be her bedside nurse? Concussion protocol, wake her tonight, every couple hours, and pain meds. Call me if there’s an issue.”

Harry was still fuming. “Can y’drive her car t’my place?” He asked Niall. He nodded solemnly, afraid of angering him further. “Get these off me,” he held out his hands feeling frustrated that Niall didn’t move faster to get them off. He wanted to cradle her face and massage her achy muscles. He wanted to kiss her pain away and hold her until he felt she was better. She was only vaguely aware of his frustration. Louis was tending to her while Niall cut the tape off his wrists, nipping his skin with the scissors because Harry refused to sit still.

“Here you are, love,” Louis was gentle, cupped the side of her head as he sat in front of her and placed an ice pack on the back of her achy skull. She blinked unsurely, eyeing Louis suspiciously.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, tears filled her vision without her realization, and she heard Harry snort.

“Jesus Christ, Cupcake,” she could hear the way his eyes rolled. Niall snorted.

Louis chuckled, shook his head. “Not at all, babe, why?”

“He lost because of me.”

“He could lose a thousand times because of you,” he assured her. “Your safety is most important.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. “He’s late because of me too.”

“He was late before you came along,” he promised. “Also, I like those Oreo brownies you make more than him,” he winked.

Harry smiled as she did. He could see her adding it to her mental list of goodies she would need to make.

“Harry, baby?” She whispered. Pulled him from his thoughts—fortunately so. He didn’t want to think about how much her head hurt.

“What, Cupcake?”

“I love you.” He smiled up at the ceiling, eyes still closed. Like it was new to him to hear her say it and it was just his dream telling him she loved him.

Right as he inhaled to say it back, his phone rang beside him. One eye peeled open and then the other as he looked at the number. “’Lo?” He asked, pressing the speaker button.

“Hey, Harry?” The voice at the other end asked. She didn’t recognize it.

“Speaking...”

“Is your girl okay?” He asked.

Harry looked at the phone curiously, he glanced at her and then back at the phone. “Yeah. She’s fine. Broke his nose.”

“Good girl,” his voice was quiet, but there was an air of pride in it as well. She blushed at the compliment, remaining silent while she listened in.

“Yeah... Listen... s’been a long night. Can y’tell me what y’want? Was it t’gloat?”

Her lips parted, realizing the man at the other end that earned the coveted one in Harry Styles’ loss column. Because of her. (Although she knew Harry would tell her it wasn’t her fault if she said that out loud.) “Right, sure. Sorry. Listen... M’glad she’s alright. Sorry it happened. But... anyone with a brain and two eyeballs knew that wasn’t a fair loss. Anyone would have stopped in the middle of our match. Hell, I almost stopped for her,” Harry waited for the point of saying all this. He squeezed her shoulder and brushed his lips across her cheek. “So... I want a rematch.”

Harry straightened, his hand falling limp behind her back. “A rematch?”

It was quiet. “I want to win the right way.”

Harry smiled; excitement danced in his eyes. Gently, he squeezed her knee. “Y’mean lose the right way,” he taunted.

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “We’ll see, I guess. Yeah?”

Harry hung up. He turned to her, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. “What do y’say? Y’still want t’be m’good luck charm, Cupcake?” He pulled her into his lap and buried his face into her neck. Like he belonged there.

“You still think I’m a good luck charm? After today? Hell, since the day I met you? I’ve been nothing but a headache. Clay is dented because of me. You had to teach me how to defend myself. I’m whiny and injured and—”

Harry didn’t seem to register anything she said at all. “M’the luckiest man alive t’have you, Cupcake. Will y’be m’good luck charm, still?”

She stopped listing her faults. It didn’t seem worth her time. “Of course, Harry,” she smiled.

“Y’think I can go the distance?” He asked.

Honestly, the thought of Harry getting punched for twelve full rounds still scared her. It was a lot for her to watch him do five or even three. “Maybe not all twelve,” she hedged with a giggle. “Want you in one piece at the end, baby,” she reminded him.

“Ye of little faith,” he frowned, grumbling. She giggled and Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. His lips quirked into a shy grin, and he pressed his face back into the crook of her neck. “Well, one round?” He asked. She swore she heard the bell in his voice as he asked. The start of a new fight, a new set.

“No,” she shook her head, pressed her lips to his hair just next to his ear. The only space she could reach while he was tucked in her neck. “I’ll go the distance with you,” she assured him.

Maybe the concussion was playing tricks on her. But she swore she heard a bell as he smiled against her skin.

Ding.

taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[cirtusmistress]

JJK Baby Daddy x Reader HC: Choso ~ The Helicopter Parent

an: i love choso and have baby fever. which sucks for a lesbian who has a visceral fear of being pregnant. so i'm gonna write about a 2D man k thanks <3

tw: mentions of SIDs

genre: fluff with a touch of angst in the teen years

AO3 Crosspost

Bless his heart man :(

Didn’t even know he could have kids but once he learned that he could it was game over.

He had eight siblings and loves them all with his whole heart. Literally Yuji being his brother reshaped his brain, how do you think having kids will have him?

I see him as a girl dad personally but he will love his children no matter the gender.

It was a lot when you told him you were pregnant. It had never really been a thought beforehand, and it just kinda.. Happened. It was a long discussion but you decided to keep it (but if you didn’t want it he would have supported you, because he loves you and in the end you have to come first).

Anxious as fuck though. He’s buying so many parenting books and reading mommy blogs and did you know you shouldn’t eat fish while pregnant? No fish for you. Such a helicopter dad and partner.

LOVES designing the nursery.

You bought him a disposable camera so he could document the pregnancy and he adored every second of it. He makes you a pregnancy scrapbook for each one.

He keeps the first ultrasound pic on him all the time. Shows it to everyone he can like, “This is my baby :)”

He cried every time you two looked at onesies. Realizing how small your baby was gonna be got him so emotional.

Likes helping you pick out maternity wear too! He thinks you’re so cute :(

If you’re a seahorse dad he’s super understanding and tries to help you through any dysphoria you may have. You’re his partner and he feels his family's pain very strongly, so he just wants you to be okay.

He involves Yuji in your pregnancy a lot too (which he loves, he can’t wait to be an uncle).

When the baby finally comes home he’s such an anxious mess. Every time they cry he’s just overwhelmed and scared something is wrong or his fault.

He doesn’t get much sleep. He made the mistake of reading about SIDs and is constantly scared that he’ll wake up one day and they’ll just be gone.

It takes a lot of reassurance from you to calm him back down. Eventually he starts sleeping again, but his sleep is very light.

Loves wearing a papoose (baby carrier). He likes having his baby with him wherever he goes.

I can see him fully committing to being a stay at home daddy. He loves his family and if he could spend every day with his children nothing would make him happier. Gives you a lot of special attention during and after the pregnancy. Massages, going out late at night for craving foods, sitting with you while you go through morning sickness. When you get home he’s super hands on so you can rest and recuperate. You’re the love of his life, nothing is too much for you.

He also makes baby scrapbooks. For all of his kids, at least 3 each. No one goes without and every child is made sure to feel special and loved.

Again, cries at every milestone. When they roll over, when they sit up, the first word. Even the less conventional ones like the first hair cut.

You had to keep him from attacking the doctor when you took them in for their first shots..

The toddler phase is fun. He’s chasing naked babies around your home day and night. Loves the phase where they want to sleep in bed with you two. Being able to have his family all in one bed makes him feel safe. Even if it means a kick to the side or back.

It’s hard when his kids start going to school. He can’t always be with them or protect them and it’s scary for him. He’s always thinking about them, and when they get home he’s always there to pick them up or walk them back to the house.

The teen phase is also a hard transition. Suddenly it’s not cool to spend time with your dad anymore. Some of his kids do, of course, but it’s always a struggle when the others pull away. You always assure him it’s normal, and they still love him. But Choso struggles when his family pulls apart even in little ways.

He’s still a helicopter parent. He means well but to teens it just feels overbearing. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong.

But in the end his kids always come back. Because they know he will never abandon them, and would raise hell for them.

Wants at least three. If you’re willing, five.

Readiness? 60% Lot’s of panic and crying, but no doubt all of his children will feel endlessly loved, as will you.

who else should I daddy? gojo and nanami are on my hit list

[jrow]

May Prompt (22)

Day 21 here. Start from the beginning here.

Night

The night has always been his saviour.

No matter how bad things are, he’s always known he’ll survive if he makes it to the night.

As a child, the night provided refuge from the people he didn’t understand and expectations he could never meet.

By university he knew the language of the masses, but also knew they would never understand his. The nights alone—away from the judgment and ridicule of his peers—were the main reason he survived.

As an adult, nights are where he’s done his best thinking, the dark and quiet acting as a catalyst for creative thinking and snowballing of ideas. Most people lose their grasp of reality at night, with anxiety and self doubt taking over. It’s the opposite for him—the answers, the truth, often become clear when the rest of the world is asleep.

When he was on the run, the nights kept him sane. It was only under dark skies that he allowed himself to think of home. To think of John. To imagine fairytales of what might await his return. He always knew they were just fantasies, but they kept him going.

These past few days, night has served as his North Star, his goal. God, he loves Rosie, but …. well, after dealing with the chaos that is a toddler, it’s nice to love her when she’s quieting and sleeping like an angel.

This evening has been … a challenge. There is a ten step process for bedtime. Each step is absolutely essential—as he learned the hard way that time he tried to skip step six, walking the dirty clothes the hamper. Tonight, Rosie fought every step of the routine and it took nearly an hour and a half.

He understands why. It was a day of “big feelings” for the both of them. The three of them, actually. Because John is home.

John was discharged in the late afternoon and Rosie had been a ball of excited nervous energy since then. Lots of jumping. Lots of falling. Lots of smiles. Lots of tears. Lots of everything.

Lots.

He had insisted on doing bedtime. It was better for him everyone. Rosie has gotten used to him over the past few days and John is still … well … fragile in a way. John had put up a cursory argument but was tired himself and quickly acquiesced.

And now, Rosie is asleep and she is safe. When she wakes, she will be precocious and funny and perfect. That he has had some hand in that may be his greatest achievement.

He closes the door to her room and makes his way to John’s. Now that Rosie is sleeping—now that it is night—he has time to work on the case.

It’s funny in a way how things change. If something like this had happened when he first met John, he would have left him alone in the hospital and been off working on the case immediately. Wouldn’t even have heard about the assassination attempt. If this had happened after knowing John for a year, he would have kidnapped John from the hospital so they could work on the case together, health consequences be damned. If this had happened around the time John got married, he would have spent every second focused on finding the man who attempted to murder John. Then he would have killed him. Then he would have solved the case. Then he would have visited John.

But now … well, solving the case is important but it’s hardly the priority. At least not during the day when the world is awake. But now it’s night.

John should be going to sleep—the man is clearly exhausted. But the fool wants to help. So they struck a deal. They would work together in John’s room, with John lying in bed. He is sure John will fall asleep in no time.

“I thought I’d start going through the pile of new surveillance footage,” John says through a yawn.

Yes, John will be asleep in within 5 minutes.

“Good idea, I’ll go through the case files. Something connects these stores, I just need to find out what,” he says, plopping down in the chair at the foot of the bed.

He had thought the thefts were random—crimes of opportunity—but now he sees everything was planned to a t. Which means the stores, and the order they were targeted, were picked for a reason.

Ten minutes later, John drops the tablet he’s been watching before startling awake.

“Go to bed, John,” he says quietly, picking up the tablet and gently moving it to the side table.

“Mmmkay,” says John, laying his head on his pillow before mumbling, “big plans tomorrow.”

“What’s that?” he asks quietly, not expecting an answer.

But he gets one, mumbled as it is. “We should go for cake. Three of us. Is the weekend. Cake then gift.”

He freezes. The gift. He’d almost forgotten. It seems like so long ago. It seems like it just happened.

“We don’t need to…” he starts, but stops as he sees John is asleep.

God damn it, Mycroft is right. He hates when Mycroft is right. He needs to tell John the truth about the chase. About John’s fall. He needs a do over or whatever the hell the term is. If he tells John, then maybe he can open that damn gift without his guilt eating him alive.

He picks up the tablet to move it to the sitting room. The screen wakes up, revealing the final image John was looking at. A young couple at the counter in New Cavendish, looking at rings, presumably. A uniformed constable is leaving.

His eyes go wide and he drops the tablet, diving to get the case notes he was just reading. Yes, there it is. The owner of Cox and Power explaining the store had been visited by a friendly unnamed constable the day the store was robbed.

He drops to the floor and crosses his legs, arranging all the notes so they are laid out in front of him. The sound of John snoring softly acting as his soundtrack.

It’s time to work.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty

[crazycookiemaniac]

You know what? If anyone is concerned as to why I don't have a "real" job like most people, not that I owe anyone any explanation, I guess I should talk about this a bit. So, to anyone who cares:

First off, finding a job is not as easy as it seems. There is so much more than just handing in a curriculum, being interviewed so you can then, maybe, get hired. What about your experience? What about your confidence? What about your knowledge? And so on forth.

You can't just find a job because you want to. And, as a matter of fact, not everyone wants to work for companies to make the rich even richer, anyway.

I grew up being very naive. I never paid attention to what happened around me. I could barely make friends due to a bunch of circumstances that I don't think is necessary mentioning here, but I've always been a very lonely person, deep down.

I remember clearly watching my mom do the math on her notebook to see if the money she got was going to be enough for the month. I remember clearly how much I wanted to help her pay the household bills, and one of the first things I did when I turned 16 (age I could legally start working with my parents' permission) was try to become an English teacher at a small English school that was pretty far from home. The owner of the school, who said I was "undergoing training" to teach according to the school's method, never gave me a single penny for over a month that I wasted working for free until I realized he was using me and quit.

And then I kept trying. And trying. And trying. Worked for almost 4 months as a cashier at a retail store, worked as an eyebrow designer for almost 2 months, tried several different university courses, as well as other short courses over the time. I kept trying to find myself in anything and everything at the same time. I could never stay at one place for too long.

Meanwhile, during all these years... ever since I was around 12... I've never stopped drawing.

Art is the one and ONLY thing I've never given up on. Art is something I love so much, I've never wanted to even think about selling it because I firmly believed that what's made with love should be shared and not sold. But life made me realize that I didn't belong anywhere that didn't have a paper and a pencil.

Art is what I do. It's the only thing I can do. Christ, it's the only thing I LOVE to do. And even though I would love to have a second job, to learn more things... I don't have the confidence I can do anything else.

I've grown to know that I have ADHD, Bipolar disorder, and OCD. Since the end of 2020, my mental health severely deteriorated, and I had to go to a mental hospital in 2021 and 2022, as well as I had to go to a part time hospital in 2023. Because of everything that went on, my financial situation got really bad, so I've been trying to pay everything off with what I gain from commissions and donations I eventually get.

See, you don't have to like me. Feel sorry, much less. But some people need to understand that some things are just not as easy as it seems. Everyone walks their own path in life. I'm walking down mine. It's hard, not just for me but for everyone, but I'm doing what I can.

I'm not proud to ask for help all the time. I wish people would only commission or donate to me because they like my work, and not because they feel sorry. But I don't have any other choice. My family can't help, so I have to do what I can.

So, please. Try to understand that I'm doing the best I can.

[sage-nebula]

I'm thinking about Knuckles, and how little we know of him, and how what little we know of him informs what we do know of him, and how that makes some of the writing around him (in various canon materials and adaptations) feel . . . kind of disrespectful, at times?

What we know of Knuckles' backstory is this: he is the last of the echidnas, and specifically a descendant of the Knuckles clan. The Knuckles clan was an empire under the rule of Chief Pachacamac, and when they tried to take the Master Emerald and Chaos Emeralds for the sake of their nation's power, Chaos went on a rampage and wiped most of them out. Pachacamac's daughter, Tikal, sealed Chaos into the Master Emerald along with her own spirit (sacrificing her body in the process), and those that remained enshrined the Master Emerald on a chunk of land that they hefted into the sky to become Angel Island. It's there that they vowed to protect the Master Emerald, but because there were so few of them already, now Knuckles himself is the only one who remains.

What we don't know is: how the remaining echidnas on Angel Island died out, and whether Knuckles' parents were around when he was born or not.

We don't know this, because echidnas hatch from eggs at least in real life, and we don't know that they don't in the Sonic universe. And we also don't know how long it would take for those eggs to hatch . . . essentially, we don't know if Knuckles was born alone on Angel Island, with only the little animals and the Chao there to keep him company. We don't know if perhaps he named himself Knuckles, after a clan he never knew, to try to feel some connection to his heritage. We do know that he doesn't know all there is to know about Angel Island, that he doesn't know the meanings behind a lot of the murals (which is how Eggman was able to trick him back when they first met), which would lead me to believe that if his parents were around, they weren't around for long enough to teach him about his culture or their sacred duty. That perhaps they weren't around long enough to give him a name of his own, rather than just taking the clan name.

All of this is to say, if Knuckles was born alone (or if his parents died when he was too young to remember them), and he's just had to piece together what little he knows about his people and his culture from what there is on his island . . .

. . . then it kind of makes moments in canon when Sonic or others pester him to leave the island or to stop taking it all so seriously feel kind of . . . insensitive at best.

Like, I do get it. Sonic himself doesn't care about his own past, he has no ties to any family (besides Tails) or culture, that's all fine for him. But it's clearly not fine for Knuckles, who very obviously wants that connection, especially if he's the one who named himself after his clan. And while I get it from a character standpoint for Sonic, part of me also feels like writers have validated Sonic's view in things like having Knuckles decide to go on a journey away from Angel Island after Frontiers, after his conversations with Sonic goaded him into it a little. Which again, as a writer I understand, because it's hard to do things with Knuckles if he never leaves Angel Island. You have to bring the plot to him, or else you can't include him. But at the same time, he's literally the last of his people. And the only connection he has to those people, those people who are lost and that he can never get back, are there on Angel Island, in ancient murals and ruins he's not sure he fully understands no matter how many years he spends studying them . . . I don't know, I just feel like some more understanding or compassion could be given to him for this. Like the way his eyes lit up in that IDW issue when Amy returned the echidna artifact to him -- that was something made by his people! That's a part of his history! He may not (probably doesn't) understand its significance, but now that's another lost connection that he has. And while Sonic might not care about things like that, Knuckles does. That's important to him, and that should be respected.

I don't know, that post about how Knuckles is not just a warrior (or, imo, a warrior at all, but a protector instead) has just had me thinking about him the past couple of days. I'm not saying that he should stay locked to Angel Island forever, I do think it does him good to socialize with his friends as well . . . but I also wish that the writing respected a bit more often the fact that he is the last of his kind, that the island and the ruins there and the Master Emerald are all he has left of it, the only way he has any connection to his culture at all. And honestly, much as I love Sonic, and as much as this is an E for Everyone series, I do think that, at times, Knuckles should get to tell Sonic to fuck off when Sonic starts going on one of his "don't be so stuck on your dusty old island" spiels he sometimes goes on. Because it's not really about the island, and Knuckles' feelings are just as valid as Sonic's. Perhaps even more so, on this topic.

But that's just what I've been thinking about.

[spatort]

My toxic European trait is thinking I can understand writing in any language if I just focus hard enough

[katyobsesses]

I think my glee obsession is returning in full force

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

Oh also YES LET HIM SAY FUCK UWAHAHA -🌟

transcript in case its still hard to understand lmao:

moke: hey oliver, have ya seen my— AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

oliver: oh my god! are you okay?

moke: hhh- FUUUUCK!! FUCKIN' HELL! UGH!

oliver: i'll get the first aid kit.

[i-deserve-to-bite]

[justauthoring]

jerk.

because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate.

a/n: wooooooohhhhh i love soulmate aus so much omg

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

part two.

You’ve known he was your soulmate from the first day at U.A. 

When he’d bumped into you, steaming with anger in that way he regularly was and had spat at you; “move it, extra, or i’ll make you” – and you’d known then because those were the words written across you hip since you’d turn five and it had manifested with your quirk.

Because that was how the world was. Nowadays, it was odd to find someone without a quirk and even harder to find someone without a soulmate and you’d grown up your whole life having those awful words written on your skin. Had grown up knowing that for whatever reason, the soulmate you’d been given didn’t say warm, intimate words to you or even just simply generic words. Your friends had always had such nice sentences from their soulmates, with pretty words or a happy greeting.

And in yours you’d been called an extra.

Whatever the hell that meant.

You’ve never been excited to meet your soulmate. Not once. Not when you were five, or eight or twelve or when you started noticing people in a way you hadn’t before, more romantically. Not when you started maturing and growing up. Those words glared at you every time you stared at them and you didn’t want a single thing to do with your soulmate.

Not ever.

That is only doubled when you realize who your soulmate is. Maybe there was always a small part of you that hoped the words were misunderstood; you’d make scenarios up in your head about how those words could be teasing or even just a misunderstanding. 

When they’re spat at you by an intimidating blonde man that looks like there’s actual steam pouring from his ears, with piercing red eyes that cut into you like you’d done some horrible thing to deserve his anger… you understand then that they weren’t teasing and they aren’t a misunderstanding. They’re cruel and they’re mean and dismissive and hurtful and every horrible thing piled together by a man who is even worse beyond just his first words to you.

So you make it your goal that he never finds out you’re his soulmate in return.

You avoid him. Desperately. You’re barely a person in his own head so it isn’t all that hard to do. Even as the rest of the class grows closer and bonds, it seems Bakugou is just as content to ignore everyone else as you are to be ignored by him. Sure, some worm their way into his heart, like Kirishima or Midoriya and Shoto, but nobody else really seemed to matter. At least, you didn’t. You had the same friends, you were in the same class, and eventually, you ended up sleeping in the same building. 

You saw him everyday. You ate in the same kitchen and relaxed in the same living room. You trained in the same gym and overall, were consistently near each other. But you didn’t speak to him and he’d never tried to speak to you after that first day. Months pass and it continues on this way and you’re sure he doesn’t even know what your name is.

Or that you really even exist.

And you’re happy with that.

Content.

Because while the idea of a soulmate was romantic and heartwarming and something you dreamed about, him being your soulmate sounds horrible.

And it was best he just never even knew.

He was so focused on becoming number one, you’re not sure he even cares about finding his. 

Which is fine. Works better for you in the end.

-

“Y/L/N and Bakugou. You two are teamed up for combat practice today.”

You freeze at Aizawa-sensei’s words, body tensing as your eyes instantly shoot towards Bakugou. He’s already looking at you, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he lets his eyes drag across you; it’s clear he’s assessing you. Maybe trying to remember your name or if he’s ever seen you before.

It wouldn’t surprise you if he was.

Somehow, in all your months of being in the same class as Bakugou, you’ve never once been partnered up with him for anything. You think once you may have been put in a group with him, but that was with several others so it'd been easy enough to avoid him.

One on one though? That was going to be harder.

Way harder.

“Good luck,” Mina calls from beside you, squeezing your shoulder before she moves to meet up with her partner; it looks like she’d gotten Jirou. Lucky. 

Watching everyone else disperse tells you that you can’t just stand there like an idiot anymore. You take a deep breath, ignoring the nerves that course through you as you make your way over to Bakugou. As you make contact with him again, you realize he’s not moving; obviously he expects you to come to him.

Jerk.

When you reach him, the two of you just stare at each other and since you’re certainly not going to speak first, there’s a moment of awkward silence before Bakugou grunts; “ready?”

You nod and he isn’t confused by your silence so the two of you walk off to an open area in the gym. He stands across from you, gives you a look and then is racing towards you. You’re not sure why Aizawa-sensei teams you up with Bakugou because your quirks definitely don’t mesh well together and it’s clear Bakugou is stronger, but you’re able to hold up well enough on your own.

You even manage to land a hit on Bakugou once that clearly surprises him and you take it as a win.

And a little payback for being such an ass.

Then, when the class is over and you’ve promptly been knocked on your ass in return, you’re surprised to see a hand stretched out in front of you, invitingly. You blink, eyes drifting upwards only to meet Bakugou’s as he stares down at you. He’s not smiling and he doesn’t look all that friendly, but he nods his head in recognition.

“Good job.”

The words are such a shock your brain short circuits for a minute. Not only are the words the nicest thing you’ve ever heard Bakugou say (which is saying a lot) but his voice wasn’t gruff or aggressive like it normally is–it was… soft, almost? Maybe not soft but… normal. Just… calm.

Your heart is lurching at the sound before you even realize and then you’re pushing yourself up to your feet, basically smacking his hand out of the way and running out of the room without another word.

-

After that, Bakugou doesn’t seem to leave you alone.

He’s everywhere.

And not everywhere in the way he had been before. He’s not there in passing or just across the room from you, he’s asking to train with you or deliberately making sure he’s the only one left for you to partner with. He seems to always be in the kitchen when you want to eat or in the living room when you want to vedge after a long day.

He’s constantly there.

Not to mention, gone are his glares or looks of indifference. He’s always looking at you, making sure you know he knows you’re there; even if the two of you are in class or with a group of classmates. He makes note of acknowledging you. The others seem to notice too because the girls start asking what you did to get Bakugou’s attention and you promptly tell them you have no idea.

Of course, they don’t know Bakugou’s your soulmate so they don’t really get the scope of your panic. And it’s not that you don’t trust them, especially after all you’d been through as a class, but more because the less that knew, the less likely Bakugou was to know.

But now? Now it was getting hard to avoid him and it was even harder not to say something without it looking obvious why you weren’t.

You were promptly fucked.

You are able to stall it for all of two weeks before you’re cornered by Bakugou.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Your wide eyes fall on him, not only shocked by his presence but panicked by his words because there were few things a sentence like that could mean. 

A quick glance around tells you there’s no way to get past him without Bakugou being able to block him and since it had already been made clear that he was in fact stronger than you, you knew there was no escape. Everyone else was gone since you’d snuck out of training to grab a bite to eat and it seemed like Bakugou had snuck out the same to follow you.

So yeah, you were screwed.

Bakugou lets out a huff at your silence and he takes another step towards you, further crowding you and you swallow thickly when he steps into your personal space. You move to walk back but then your back is pressing against the wall of the kitchen and Bakugou is completely shrouding you, it's hard to look anywhere but at him.

“Do you think I don’t know why you won’t speak to me?”

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the right, determined to avoid his steely red eyes that feel like they’re piercing into your very soul. You focus on the handle to the cupboard to your right and try to ignore the growl he lets out in response.

He takes another step forward and suddenly he’s inches apart, close enough you can feel his breath drift across your skin, warm to the touch.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out after you ran from me that day when we were partnered up,” Bakugou continues. “Especially when I started to realize you’ve never talked to me. And then? Avoiding me for the last two weeks? It’s not hard to figure out.”

You halt, freezing, waiting for the words—

“You’re my soulmate.”

You refuse to look at him. You won’t look at him. 

Maybe if you just ignore him, he’ll go away. He’ll just… leave. He doesn’t like being ignored, that much you’ve gathered and so if you just refuse to–

Suddenly his hands are on your arms and his chest is against yours and he’s way too close. “Hey,” he huffs, “look at me.”

You don’t listen. Even as you tense beneath his grip, you refuse to do anything, to give him any sort of reaction. If you give him a reaction, he’ll get what he wants. And you’re not thinking straight. You need to just wait, wait until he’s bored and then you can think—figure this out because surely–

“Y/L/N,” he calls and you’re surprised he even knows your name, “look at me. Hey. I’m right, aren’t I? Why else wouldn't you fucking looking at me.” You continue to remain silent and Bakugou lets out a low growl. “Fucks sake. I’m not leaving until you say something so you might as well—”

“—I’m not saying anything to you because you’re a jerk!”

Well, that certainly could’ve gone better.

The words leave your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. The second you’re done, your chest is heaving and you finally turn your head, eyes snapping to Bakugou’s, fearing his reaction at your rather blunt and rude words.

But, a second later, instead of being angry like you’d expected, Bakugou starts… laughing.

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen the boy laugh, certainly not that genuinely. His lips are parted and his eyes have squeezed shut and the laugh that leaves his lips is pure and genuine and loud and it’s so unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him you’re stunned stupid as you stare back at him with your lips left parted, jaw slacked.

As his laughter fades, Bakugou meets your gaze.

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words for years,” he starts, still smiling–actually smiling this time. Not a smirk. But an affectionate grin. “Wasn’t sure what I did to deserve those words, but it seems fitting.”

Blinking, once, twice, you sputter, snapped out of your stupor. “I–I… You jerk!”

“I think we’ve established that already, babe.”

You barely even notice the nickname. If it wasn’t for the way your heart races at the sound, you’re sure your stupefied mind wouldn’t have caught it because seriously, what the hell?

“You… this is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything!” You cry out, not sure if you’re defending yourself for him or more for yourself. Why are you even defending yourself? And what against? “You’re insufferable. And rude. And cocky. And a jerk.”

Bakugou just snorts. “What are your words?” He asks, smile fading slightly as his expression turns more serious; almost solemn. Regretful. “Must’ve been bad if you had to avoid me.”

You’re surprised by the guilt in his tone, but it gives you the confidence to answer. “‘Move it, extra, or I’ll make you’,” you mumble, fiddling with your hands. “You said it the first day we started here at U.A.”

“Shit,” Bakugou curses, running a hand through his hair. “So you’ve been avoiding me for months?”

Your eyes flick to his before lowering and that gives him his answer.

He shifts. “L-Listen… uh, sorry about… about cornering you like this.”

Blinking, you tilt your head up. You’re shocked to see a red tinge to his cheeks. 

“I just needed to know,” he finishes explaining. “And I’m sorry about that shit I said to you. My soulmate doesn’t deserve that crap but I can’t take it back, so I’ll just make sure I make up for it.”

You’re positive now that you’re hallucinating this whole thing.

“What?”

He blinks down at you at your screech before smirking.

“Well, I mean, as we get to know each other,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m shit with words but I’ll try for you. I'm good with showing though,” and he looks a little too pleased with himself.

But you can barely focus on the very blatant meaning of his words, you're still trying to catch up. “You…” and you hesitate, not sure if you’re hearing this correctly. “You want to get to know me?”

And he looks at you like you’re dumb.

“Duh,” he shrugs, “you’re my soulmate.”

“What about being number one?”

“What about it?” he argues, shaking his head. “That’ll still happen. You think I can’t do that while also dating you?”

Your eyes widen; “dating?”

“Yeah,” he says, again like you’re dumb. He takes a step towards you, once again closing the gap between you and his hands falling on your waist, pulling a gasp from your lips at the touch that causes him to smirk, as if proud. “You’re my soulmate. Of course we’re going to date.”

“I barely know you!”

“That’s why we’ll get to know each other.”

You just stare up at him.

“You really are insufferable,” is what you manage to say in the end, exasperated. Your shoulders fall and your body sags but you don’t pull away from his touch and even if you’re not fully aware of it, you’re pretty sure you end up leaning into him.

“You’ll learn to love it,” he shrugs, still grinning. “Now, let’s go back to training. We need to work on your defense.”

Blinking, you turn to him as he shifts the both of you, guiding you forwards. “Hey!”

“What,” he shrugs down at you. “It’s true. You were barely able to block my hits when we fought.”

You can’t find the words to say so you simply let him lead you along, trying to ignore the way his hands make your skin tingle and your heart race. Or, really, the way that despite everything, you really don’t mind.

If anything, you actually like it.

Fuck—he really is a jerk.

[tabootasaur]

...

[lehguru]

THINK YOU NEED SOMEONE YOUNGER + ONE PIECE MEN

they start to realize they might be a little too old for you ft. crocodile, mihawk, smoker, shanks, doflamingo, corazon

info: will do this for other fandoms too i think, angsty on some; not proofread

crocodile never felt insecure, at least when it came to your relationship. after he left impel down and came to look for you, things got a little... weird. he was avoiding you. you knew it wasn't because he didn't want to bring you into his business (he did it more than once), it was something you didn't really understand. before you could even confront him about it, he said out of nowhere one day: "did you... get with anyone while i was away?" he looked at you with a hard stare. "someone... younger?" you almost laughed at his question, but you held yourself back. your arms circled his waist and you rested your chin on his chest. 'i don't know anyone younger that is as attractive as you, sir.' he grinned, holding the back of your head with his hand. "good."

mihawk noticed how you and zoro interacted during his time at the island. he wasn't suspicious that something was happening, he knew you would never cheat on him or break his trust; but... a thought started to spread in his mind like poison. once zoro and perona left, and you two finally managed to carry on with your married life alone, he asked you one day while you drank tea together. "how do you feel about me being... older?" you looked at him with raised eyebrows and 'the only thing that matters to me is you. i fell in love with your personality and the way you treat me, not your age.' he hummed, a deep sound that you know reverberated on his chest. even if it was faint, you could see a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

smoker didn't think about your age gap until he overheard some of the new recruits talking about you two. captain smoker having a younger partner is a little weird isn't it, was what they said. when he was back home and you were resting against his chest, softly playing with the hair on the area, he told you about it. you looked up, your eyes shining, 'old pan makes good food'. the laughter that left his lips was one that he always reserved for you, his most sincere and genuine laugh; he pressed his lips on the top of your head, murmuring praises and love confessions against your hair.

shanks really didn't care about it, not as much as other members of his crew did – with how well they knew their captain, the man would be destroyed if you decided to leave him. 'she might go for a younger guy, when your thing doesn't get up anymore.' they usually voiced their concerns in the form of jokes, so they wouldn't be too harsh on their captain, but it was effective. those comments made him start to realize what you two were – lovers. one day, without telling you, he and the crew left. simply left the island, leaving you behind with only an note written "don't look for me." in a messy manner.

one thing about doflamingo is that he gets whatever he wants whenever he wants. and since the moment he laid eyes on you, you were his. the people that tried to comment on your age gap always "mysteriously" disappeared, even if they were from inside his organization. no one could talk about him and his partner like that. if he ever brought up the topic, it was only to test if you were seeing anyone or wanted someone younger (he knows you don't. he knows everything); your praises towards him and your love always left him pleased – he would give you the same in return.

corazon is frequently insecure about your relationship. he wonders if you really love him, if he's good enough for you, if he's being a good boyfriend, if he missed any important date that he should've remembered – your age gap (made worse by your height gap too) is only another one of those concerns. no matter what you say, he often asks you if you wouldn't want to be with someone younger and with a better family than him. one day, after he asked that for the millionth time, you answered: "we can have a family of our own, rosi. you deserve happiness. you said once i made you happy, so i will stay. the only way you're going to get rid of me is if one of us is gone." he chuckled and smiled widely, as he often did around you and law, hugging you tightly against his body. 'i adore you. with all my heart and soul, i love you.'

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[luveline]

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 

“Did you call them?” 

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 

“We really don’t have time to waste.” 

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!” 

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 

“No,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 

“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 

“Don’t know,” you mumble. 

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I understand.” 

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.