#it can make you hesitant about that sort of thing!

[theotherrookie]

"They never do. I don't get why adults are like that with kids." Erica grumbled, "Well, that served him right. He should be thankful he can still see other people holding mops or anything else. I used to scratch those who picked on isolated survivors."

She tried liking everybody, but she simply couldn't stomach bullies. They should be better people if they didn't want their butts kicked.

"Oh, I just dress comfy for myself and for Smokey. He used to sleep in the hole on my back, but I don't have it anymore. So we need pockets now." Erica explained, "Oh, I see! Russell always gets in trouble, uh? But I'm glad he's going to be okay."

She scratched at the tip of her ear as she tried to recall anything about the accident Travis had mentioned. "Hey, Willow, how long have we known Russell?"

Willow, of course, provided an answer without hesitation. "Rook met Russell about six years ago. However, the accident in question was never mentioned to me, which might imply she isn't aware of that particular misadventure. It isn't the sort of topic one would so casually discuss with a person they only recently met."

Rook would have definitely brought it up at some point. The topic of Russell's ability to get in dangerous situations and narrowly escaping it had been discussed often over the years and neither had been able to provide an explanation on how he managed to do that.

"And I met him later because I was still figuring stuff out after Willow found a way to reverse my zombieness."

"We were all very busy at the time." Willow said, leaning back, "To think I was only two years old then. Time really does fly outside the matrix."

"You know, we could watch that show together." Erica offered, "It'd be the first time for me!"

Rook stopped to look around while the pocket kept shifting to create a suitable way out of there.

"That would become unbearable quickly. The first thing I did when I learned there was a way to interact with this place was removing the echo." Rook said, "I really didn't have a great time the first time I got stuck in here. It took mum half a day to notice I was missing."

"I only had control over a limited portion of this place. Chick had to keep busy rearranging all my supplies." Veronica added.

But of course, everything had changed when Rook had retrieved one of their lost books from the clutches of the Brotherhood. They finally had access to a powerful tool that made their activities far easier and were a bit closer to unlocking other hunting techniques previously lost to time.

The last few blocks fell into place just as Bill was sent off to enjoy the panoramic view. Veronica figured she would make herself useful while they waited for Rook to tend to her business and shifted her focus to keeping their surroundings stable while they lingered there.

"Alchemy has always been one of our strongest suit. I dare say Erika has a natural talent for it." Veronica said, pride evident in her tone.

Rook wasn't feeling particularly proud of herself, but still managed a small nod. "I'm alright. I see you guys found my pile of gold without the rainbow. Do you want some?"

The coin shined and felt like the real deal. It was made of gold of the highest quality and with both sides decorated with a crude rendition of a bird's foot.

Rook went ahead and dug up a candy scoop she then used to fill a small bag with coins under Lucien's very intrigued gaze. She closed the bag by pulling the strings at the sides, then offered it to Antonio.

"I've got plenty to spare. I really don't mind."

"The one he picked might be worth more than the entire pile, dear."

"Let me splurge, mum. I'm trying to ignore my feelings right now."

Unable to resist to the shiny himself, Lucien quietly took the scoop from her and started filling another bag for himself.

"Oh, please, don't make compliments." Rook said, nudging him with her boot.

"Get off my back. I can make a lovely pendant for Russell with these." The half fae hastily pushed back with his arm, before scooping up a few more coins.

"Then they wonder why kids hate schools." Erica grumbled, "I bet they still tell the story of what you did! That guy must be scared of mops too now."

It still wasn't as satisfying as the guy getting skewered or having the mop broken over his head, but it was enough to get the point across.

"You hardly have the need to go unnoticed, Travis. One look at you is enough to discourage many from trying their luck." Willow pointed, "Erica was raised to hunt. It's only natural for her to be conspicuous despite her wardrobe."

"Yeah, sometimes I scare people by accident." Erica confirmed. Perhaps that choice of words was by accident as well. "If those were the second and third, what was the best news you got?"

"The afterlife is extensive. However, she most likely wouldn't mind making an attempt." Willow reassured, "Mother likes you as well as your brothers. That means her usual attentions will be extended to you all as well."

The need for closure would move the ghost lady most of all. Veronica would have agreed in a heartbeat, if only she still had a heart.

Willow considered her options, before tapping into the radio again. The car lacked the charm and bite of the real deal, but she hoped Travis was familiar with KITT. She hated wasting a good reference.

"Come on, Travis! You can't leave me hanging like this. I'm a marvelous car, but I can't do all the heavy lifting myself. That's your specialty."

Erica's ears perked up. "I know that voice! It's that talking car who hung out with that guy from SpongeBob!"

Willow smiled as she tossed her hair back, "I felt like going for a classic this time."

It seemed like these were typical shenanigans between the two of them.

The pocket dimension was very barren, but was far from still. The fog quietly parted as they walked, flowing all around them like an intricate network of streams. It was something Rook found calming in small doses, though her attention was focused elsewhere.

"There's no ugly moquette or buzzing lights either." Rook added, "It can be too quiet at times. Not that hearing distant noises would be any better. I guess it's good for reading, Antonio can probably attest to that. Or not– I'm still waiting for your review of your stay in my liminal closet."

It seemed like a nice way to divert the attention away from some rather unpleasant memories. That wasn't the time or place to start that argument and most of all, she didn't think Lucien should have been present to provide his opinion on the matter. The fae could be awfully unhelpful at times.

Though Bill was being just as helpful, in his own way. Veronica hadn't meant to follow up on her threat, but now she simply had to.

"Too many underestimate the importance of sound values when parenting." Veronica paused, her gaze trailing over at the inevitable duck comment, "You're simply hopeless."

And about to take a ride in the hard to discern void slide. Rook wasn't the only one able to mess with gravity there. Bill could take a ride and think about the consequences of his own actions.

Lucien was simply glad he wasn't the one falling into oblivion. He would simply turn the other way and let Rook have her moment of privacy so she could replenish her magic battery.

"Oh, I see you started synthesizing gold." he told Veronica.

"It's an old family recipe." Veronica replied, "It's a shame we can only use it sparingly these days."

Rook could do nothing but stand for a moment to watch the way everybody was ready to give her some space. It meant more than she was willing to admit. Then again, she never got too sentimental when her marks whenever she started feeling drained.

Rook silently turned and took a few steps away from the group, before there was a shift in the pocket to reveal one of the few monsters she had the time to catch lately. It looked like a hybrid between some kind of reptile and a rodent with a mantis-like head. It didn't really matter what it was or where it came from. She had found it trying to eat some poor schmuck and it had almost slashed her wing off with its claws. Now it was going to do something useful for a change.

"Imagine if Five found you instead." She would probably be starving. There was another shift as a bright light engulfed the monster, before it vanished into a swirly cloud of energy that was absorbed by her marks.

Rook took a moment to simply breathe, before turning back. "I… I'm done."

She didn't want to drag this on to avoid making it more awkward than it was.

[peasack]

Yesterday I Accidentally called my chemistry teacher dad and I was so embarrassed.

So that lowkey got ne into thinking what if you'd call the thunderbolts-men dad? So I brought that into reality, enjoy!!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦Thunderbolts Accidentally Calling Them Dad Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ John Walker

You were in the kitchen trying to open a stubborn jar of pickles when John passed by, towel slung over his shoulder, still sweaty from his morning run.

“Need help with that?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

You held out the jar with a grunt. “Yeah, it’s like Fort Knox.”

He cracked it open easily, handed it back. You mumbled a thank you under your breath before saying—

“Thanks, Dad—uh. John. I meant John.”

Silence.

Your face went crimson as John blinked at you. You looked anywhere but at him. He set down the water bottle and tilted his head.

“…You called me Dad.”

“Yeah. Slipped out. Sorry.”

John was quiet for a second. Then he gave a small chuckle, half a breath, more real than most things he said.

“Well,” he said, voice softer than usual, “I’ve been called worse.”

You glanced at him, surprised. He looked a little flustered himself, lips twitching like he was trying not to grin.

“You want me to… stop calling you that?”

He shook his head. “Only if you want to. But if you do it again, I’m claiming the Father’s Day card.”

You rolled your eyes. “Deal.”

✦ Bucky Barnes

It was late. You were exhausted after school and halfway through asking Bucky something when it slipped.

“—and can you sign this field trip thing, Dad?”

You froze. He froze.

He looked up from his book, eyebrows raised slightly. His expression didn’t change much, but you could feel the tension in the air.

“I—sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just—habit. Or...brain slip. You know.”

Bucky didn’t speak for a beat.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

“…You sure that’s a bad thing?”

You looked at him, brows knitting. “What do you mean?”

He gave the tiniest smile. “You calling me that.”

You hesitated. “You don’t mind?”

“I think… it’d be nice, actually,” he said, voice gruff but honest. “If it came from you.”

Your heart thudded. You didn’t say anything, just quietly handed him the form. His metal hand brushed yours as he signed it.

Later, he left the signed paper on your desk, folded with a sticky note on top.

“Next time, just ask your old man directly.”

✦ Bob Reynolds

You were crying.

Not the loud, messy kind—just the quiet, brittle sort, tucked into the corner of the couch with your sleeves covering your face. Bob had come to check on you when he noticed you didn’t come down for dinner.

He sat next to you gently, not asking questions. Just offering a tissue and setting down a mug of tea.

After a while, when your voice finally returned, it cracked like glass.

“Thanks for… being here, Dad.”

It was a whisper. A whisper you didn’t realize you said until Bob’s breath caught.

You looked up at him, startled. “I didn’t—oh. I didn’t mean—”

He was looking at you with that soft, stunned expression. The one he got when something beautiful happened unexpectedly.

“…You sure?”

You blinked. “About what?”

“Calling me that. Do you want me to be?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Nodded.

He smiled. Small. Fragile. But it reached his eyes.

“Then I’ll be here. As long as you want.”

✦ Alexei Shostakov

You were yelling.

The TV was too loud. Alexei was hogging the remote. You just wanted to play your game without hearing an entire Russian action movie blaring in the background.

“Alexei, please turn it down—”

“No! Is dramatic climax! They are in helicopter with no fuel!”

“For the love of—Dad, please—!”

Silence.

The movie kept going, but neither of you heard it.

You clamped a hand over your mouth. “I didn’t—I mean—I’m—”

Alexei turned to you, eyes wide.

“…You called me Dad.”

You winced. “Yeah. Sorry. Reflex.”

He grinned like a kid who just won a prize.

“I am the dad! Yes! Finally!”

You groaned. “Don’t make it weird—”

“I will not! I am honored! You hear this? ‘Dad, please!’” He mimicked you terribly.

You threatened to throw a pillow at him. He caught it mid-air and gave you a one-armed hug, ruffling your hair like a proud giant.

“Is good day,” he said with a smile. “Very good day.”

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

AAAAAAAAA

oml I loved writing this, was highkey smiling the whole time.

If you guys want me to make one of calling the others mom leave a request! <3

[ckret2]

Can you give us more Scaramouche/Aku content please? I crave this ship/their dynamic

With pleasure! have a bunch of headcanons

I'm currently working on a fic so I'm (mostly) trying to avoid headcanons that'd spoil parts of that fic. most of these are ideas I've left in comments or DMs but haven't put in an actual post, so the topics are all over the place.

this is one of those "this got so long that i'm unironically giving it a table of contents so i remember what's in it" posts.

a note on chronology

aku's (baselessly) worried jack could use scaramouche against him

once that's not a concern, EVERYONE'S gotta watch the wedding.

if aku's in love he's insufferable about showing off his beloved.

and insufferable about showing off for him.

scaramouche is the only bot in his line with a crush on the boss

his line was custom designed to meet aku's aesthetic tastes

scaramouche at karaoke night

scaramouche & his aku tattoos engravings

no matter who asks for the first date, it goes badly

aku's big on gift giving. like, 💰💰💰💸💳💎💍👑🔑

lot of people go "aku had a robot boyfriend built for him?? cringe"

don't use cute pet names on aku, it might kill him

"trading assassinations for dinner dates" romcom

1. some of these headcanons are pre-relationship, some are during a relationship. whenever I mentally insert scaraku into canon I never interpret it as "Aku & Scaramouche are having a relationship off-screen we just don't see." Instead, my interpretation is "Scaramouche has a decades-long crush on Aku; Aku would reciprocate if he knew, but he doesn't, and so it's never occurred to him that romance with a robot is even an option."

So any headcanons about them together as a couple aren't set in the canon timeline, but some alternate timeline where they get together (and obviously aku didn't blow up scaramouche's head.)

2. Aku's never struck me as bashful or self-conscious about his desires. If he wants something, it's everybody's business. he's telling the whole planet and if he isn't handed what he wants in five minutes he's stealing it. I imagine he'd be the same way about romance.

With one exception: when Jack's around. If Jack were to fall in love, Aku wouldn't hesitate for a second to use Jack's love interest against him (even, as it turns out, if that love interest is Aku's own flesh and blood), so he sort of assumes Jack would do the same to him. Even though Jack's a good guy. Like that would probably be one of those "for the greater good" things Aku's heard about.

Love is a weak spot. If Jack stabs Scaramouche through the chest, it'll be Aku's heart that feels it. (like, metaphorically—but I guess also literally since Scaramouche is powered with Aku essence? but we're talking about the metaphor right now.) I doubt Aku's been in love or whatever-close-approximation-passes-as-love-for-him very often, if ever before. He's not used to having a vulnerability like that. This little robot is a piece of Aku's heart that's much MUCH easier to kill than the rest of Aku is.

So as long as a guy eager and able to kill Aku is running around, Aku won't want the world to learn about this new weakness. Any relationship is top secret and Scaramouche isn't allowed to get anywhere near Jack.

3. But the second Jack's no longer a threat—OR if Jack somehow finds out about them so there's no point keeping it a secret—every TV channel on the planet is interrupted with a broadcast from Aku going "what's up bitches i'm getting married and you have to watch it or die" (he probably doesn't say it like that.)

if "Jack's no longer a threat" overlaps with "Jack's still alive" for some reason (truce? lost his sword again??), Aku's making a big deal out of inviting his daughter to the wedding and mentioning in the invitation that she can bring a +1. like, oh of course I'M not inviting the samurai, but I care about him so little that i'm not even telling you you can't bring him. that's how unimportant he is. double insult.

the wedding thing's a half joke. but like if it happened it'd go like that.

4. When Aku's got nothing to fear, he'd be SO annoying about being in a relationship. Only the greatest specialest little robot in the world could possibly have won the almighty Aku's attention, much less affection, and that means Scaramouche is the best and Aku's gonna show him off; disrespect this robot and you are disrespecting Aku (he will kill you). This is his Yoko Ono, his George Viliers. Half the world's gonna grow to really hate Scaramouche.

Scaramouche isn't bothered by this. They just hate him because he snagged the ruler of the world. Suck his hypothetical penis.

5. having a romantic relationship would just make aku even more over-the-top. Being in the same room as someone he feels loved by would puff up his ego like a helium balloon. Usually he has to keep that ego inflated by himself! Getting regular tributes from enslaved subjects can only do so much for him when he KNOWS they're only doing it on his orders; having just one person he genuinely likes who thinks the WORLD of him—not because he forced them to—would do more for him than a hundred dumb monuments in the ocean.

Scaramouche walks in and immediately smiles when he sees him and Aku knows he means it and instantly gets a little giddy, and now he's like I've gotta show off. kills the next person who walks into the room.

6. I've mentioned that I headcanon Scaramouche is just one unit in a line of robots designed & programmed similarly to him: same basic body, same initial skillset, same emotion programming—which means same preprogrammed loyalty to Aku.

Yet Scaramouche is the only one who developed a crush on the boss.

The rest of them are like "yeah of course i'm loyal to the boss to the end, but if the samurai ever actually kills him, either i'll keep working for whoever replaces him or go find some other job. i probably wouldn't even be sad about it." and meanwhile scaramouche is like "if the samurai ever kills the boss i'm just gonna kill myself too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ no, wait. if the samurai kills the boss, I'M gonna have to go find a time portal so i can go back and stop HIM—" and the rest are like "what's wrong with you."

every once in a while he'll have a conversation with the other robo-assassins that ends with something like "what do you MEAN the rest of you don't think Aku's handsome?!?!" "WHAT'S HANDSOME ABOUT HIM??" "if he's not the standard by which you judge all other beauty, then i don't know how to explain it to you."

They're all painfully aware of Scaramouche's crush. They have all let him know they think he's an idiot. Somebody dropped a poll in the robo-assassin group chat, "DO YOU THINK AKU LIKE-LIKES SCARAMOUCHE?" 1 vote yes 11 votes no. The yes vote is a lie based on hope.

7. when Scaramouche's line was being built, the scientists told Aku that these were gonna be some super advanced robots—they've got programming for emotions and evolving personalities so they can continue to develop after they're built, they're designed to be able to survive with like 99% of their bodies blown up so that they can be rebuilt with their memories intact, these are the assassin bots of the future, these things will be usable for centuries if not longer.

And Aku went "well if i've gotta stare at these things for that long, then I at least want to like looking at them." so he told the scientists how he wanted them to look.

Which means that, without realizing it, Aku had these bots custom-designed to be particularly handsome according to his personal aesthetic standards. which shouldn't have been an issue, it's not the first time he's told his scientists "if I'm gonna be using these things then I want to like how they look," that's how he ended up with an army of beetles. except then one of these very pretty bots started hitting on him.

8. aku's in an interesting position where he basically defines "mainstream" culture—he's this world's government and god and has been for millennia, HE'S the one broadcasting propaganda, HE gets to decide what's on the airwaves; but at the same time he's also kind of the counterculture because, like… nobody wants this. nobody likes him being in charge. but in either case he's at the center of global culture. culture is defined by its orbit of him.

so people write songs about him, or songs using him as a metaphor for something else, as one does about major cultural figures. and songs about him might be:

part of mainstream culture: you know those christian rock songs that sing about jesus in a way that kind of makes you go "is the singer in love with jesus orrr—?" those, except about aku

part of the counterculture: you know how christian songs sing about the devil? those, except about aku. he considers songs about him being evil fine, but songs about casting him out/rejecting him/getting rid of him/him being defeated by some higher purer power are Not Approved, you're risking some trouble playing songs like that. but they're still written.

part of the counter-counterculture: you know how like tongue-in-cheek satanic metal bands sing about the devil? "he's awful he's terrible he's the worst yay yahoo hurray we love him"? those, except about aku. they basically loop back around to being mainstream in spite of somehow also being opposite of the mainstream songs.

"what's this got to do with scaraku?" never go to karaoke night with scaramouche because all you're getting is songs from category 1 and category 3.

9. Scaramouche has at least one engraving on his body dedicated to Aku. He possibly gets more. He's got like, you know those full sleeve tats that look like an oni or a dragon or whatever? Gets an engraving like that but it's of Aku.

To whoever does Scaramouche's engravings, he probably comes across as like,, one of those unhinged ultra-patriotic nationalists who gets a bunch of tattoos of the cult of personality dictator. Okay, creepo, as long as you're paying for them

tattoo artist doesn't find out Scaramouche is anything other than a crazy patriot until the day he comes in beaming looking like somebody used a jackhammer to carve the word "AKU" in his chest and asks for it to be filled in with gold. "It's kinda sloppy, you sure you don't want it cleaned up?" "Nope!" "Where'd you get this one done?" "Autograph from the boss himself!" "What." surely this robot means LITERALLY an autograph. Like at a meet and greet or something.

on some other engraving, "Okay, do you want the face filled in with gold like the other engravings, or do you want enamel so I can get it red and green?" "Uhhh… hold on." Pulls out his phone "hey Aku baby!!! Do you want your face in gold or enamel?" "Dude what the fuck, do you have his number?" They're like half a dozen engravings deep before the artist is like wait what do you mean you actually know him. What do you mean you're in love with him. Not sure if that's better or worse than the crazy patriot thing.

10. if Aku's the first one to ask for a date he's gonna unintentionally scare the shit out of Scaramouche. internal monologue: "should i ask him if he's free tomorrow? wait. why would i ask. i'm the one who gives him his jobs, i should know if he's free. i can make him free."

Scaramouche, talking to the robo-assassin group chat: "babes i think i fucked up :(" shares a screenshot with the group chat of a text from Aku that says "I'm canceling your next job. Report to my audience chamber tomorrow."

there are characters who are careful about navigating the nuances of a relationship with a significant power imbalance, and aku is not one of them. (Whatever Aku loves is HIS, and he'll take good care of them, treasure them, give them anything they want—but they don't get a say in the matter. If Aku's in love, the beloved doesn't get the option to say no.)

It's better for everyone if Scaramouche makes the first move—but he's been trying to make the first move for like the past twenty years and the hints fly straight past Aku. He's invited Aku to like five different public executions and every time Aku's turned him down thinking "well he just mentioned he was going to the execution and asked if I wanted to go too, only a fool would talk about their weekend plans in front of the lord and master of all and then exclude him, he only invited me to be polite."

11. Aku's INCREDIBLY grandiose with affectionate favors & gifts. he owns everything, he can do that.

like,, he approaches scaramouche like "hey i do a lot of business in this big city, i should get a permanent place to stay when i visit, you spend a lot of time in that city right? do my househunting for me, let me know which places you think are best. the budget is five million bucks—minimum." and after scaramouche gushes about a few places aku gets one and goes "ok here's the key." "wait, didn't you get this place so YOU'D have somewhere to stay?" "i did. this place has seven damn bedrooms, i'm sure you can keep one set aside as a guest room for me."

Scaramouche doesn't even want expensive stuff. expensive stuff is nice, but that's not what he's here for, he just wants aku. now he gets aku AND expensive stuff. he's the luckiest robot in the world.

he tries to return the favor, but unlike aku he's on a budget. he's not above stealing gifts, though. most common gifts he brings are jewels of various kinds—bonus if they're magical. the boss likes pretty enchanted rocks, and what the boss wants, he gets.

12. there are definitely some people who see Aku, who is the most single a person has ever been, get together with a robot, and assume "that guy's so lonely and so unpopular that he got some kind of sex bot built & programmed to be his boyfriend so he can pretend he's loved."

if Scaramouche overhears any claims like that, his response is generally "do you wanna see just what i was built & programmed to do?" 🗡️🗡️🗡️

"Aku's #1 assassin" isn't a SUPER well-known celebrity position—but it's well-known enough for a lot of people to instantly reverse their position on aku's new toy when they hear his name. oh you mean THAT scaramouche? scaramouche the merciless?? ohhh.

13. Aku is not designed to accept affectionate statements and terms of endearment. ZERO defenses against it. throwing a pet name at aku is like unleashing an invasive species on a delicate ecosystem: that thing does NOT belong here and it's gonna demolish everything in its path. aku has no antibodies for this virus. a single cutesy nickname can KO him for an hour.

Scaramouche calls him "hot stuff" and his entire face catches on fire and that's how Scaramouche learns what Aku's version of a blush looks like.

the latent leftover code from X-49 buried deep in Scaramouche's programming surfaces and he unthinkingly calls aku "sweet thing," and aku excuses himself from his audience chamber to melt in a puddle in his bed and stare at the ceiling. what is this nonsense. he is not a thing that is sweet. it's absurd. he's not thinking about anything else for the rest of the afternoon.

scaramouche is convinced he just keeps accidentally insulting aku.

14. In the IDW comics, in one issue there's a running gag about Aku upgrading Jack's bounty to "20 googolplex and a dinner date with Aku." in the depths of my DMs there's a serial killer romcom fic I'm never gonna write where Aku offers a dinner date as part of the bounty for various high-level targets, with the tacit understanding that what this means is more like "you get aku's attention for an hour to attempt to network with him or plead for your family's safety or whatever you want. and you get dinner out of it."

except scaramouche manages to take out one of these targets, goes on one dinner date, INSTANTLY falls in love even though aku did absolutely nothing to try to impress him, and starts knocking out one name on Aku's Most Wanted list after another to rack up these dinner dates.

the second time it happens aku goes "this bot again?" the fifth or sixth time it happens aku goes "this bot AGAIN???????" after the thirtieth time it happens he's going "it's been three weeks since scaramouche took out a target with a dinner date attached, what's taking him so long??"

after like the 10th date scaramouche is telling everyone he knows "yeah aku and i are definitely officially a couple" and simultaneously aku's thinking "i wonder if scaramouche would be interested in making things official. ... no, of course not, if he was interested he wouldn't only ask me out when he's collecting a bounty."

scaramouche's pals are trying to convince him that if he and aku were an item, aku wouldn't require him to kill somebody every time they go out—"he's a busy guy, that's just his excuse to make time for me!"—and meanwhile aku's sitting on his throne staring at his phone trying to telepathically command scaramouche to call him.

this idea is more silly than anything else. the idea of Aku, Shogun of Sorrow, Master of Masters waiting for a call from his kind-of-unofficial-boyfriend like a lovesick teen just amuses the hell out of me.

[shrewsburysworld]

Would you be willing to do a yandere Sope fic? With a splash of stalking or maybe CEO! Yandere? Feel free to disregard if you aren’t taking requests! If you don’t write for 2 could it be for Hobi? 🩵 hope you’re doing well, I love your work!

Title: On the 42nd Floor

You weren't anyone special.

An assistant in the finance department, bottom tier on the 27th floor, your job consisted of brewing coffee, sorting invoices, and ducking your head whenever upper management passed by. Your boss barely remembered your name. Most of your coworkers didn’t speak to you unless they needed help fixing the printer.

But everything changed when Jung Hoseok said your name.

You’d never even seen the CEO in person before that day. Just photos—sharp jawline, sculpted cheekbones, soft brown hair swept back like he didn’t even try to look that good. In company newsletters, he always smiled politely. In meetings streamed across departments, his voice was smooth and controlled.

But nothing could prepare you for him standing right in front of you.

"YN," he said.

You looked up, wide-eyed and silent.

He smiled. "You’ve been on my radar for a while."

You blinked. "Me?"

His laugh was quiet and low. "Come with me."

And just like that, you were transferred to the 42nd floor.

At first, it felt like a dream.

A personal elevator key. A sleek new desk just outside his office. Fresh flowers every Monday. Hoseok would greet you every morning by name, his eyes lingering a little too long, his compliments walking the line between formal and intimate.

“I like your earrings,” he said once. “You wore them three weeks ago, didn’t you? With a black turtleneck. It suited you.”

You froze.

He remembered?

“Attention to detail,” he added, as if reading your discomfort. “It’s what keeps a company running.”

But the details he noticed weren’t always about work.

You began to sense things. Patterns. Subtle, unnerving shifts.

Your favorite coffee order—without ever asking.

A note on your desk: Don’t forget your umbrella. 60% chance of rain after 5. It rained. At exactly 5:13.

The scarf you lost at the laundromat reappeared in your drawer. Folded. Freshly washed. It smelled like sandalwood and cedar.

Like his cologne.

Then the incidents started.

Your neighbor’s car alarm kept going off at night. You overheard her say she was being stalked. A man you met at a friend’s birthday party offered you a ride home. You hesitated, but accepted.

He never made it to your door.

His tires were slashed. Windshield shattered.

You didn’t connect the dots—until the next morning, when Hoseok looked at you with that gentle, unreadable smile.

“I hope you got home safely,” he said.

Your hands trembled around the paper you were holding.

“I… I did.”

“That’s good.” His eyes crinkled. “Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

You began pulling away.

You were polite. Distant. Less eager to meet his gaze. You didn’t smile as much. You even started searching for new jobs in secret.

And then, like a trap snapping shut, Hoseok began tightening his hold.

Your landlord sent you a termination notice—sudden renovations, no prior warning.

Your parents received a call that you’d been skipping work and showing signs of depression. You hadn’t.

When you tried to take a day off for a mental health break, HR sent you an email within five minutes: CEO Jung would like to personally check in. Please be at your desk by 9 a.m.

It was like he knew everything. Every move.

One evening, you stayed late, hoping to avoid him. He entered the office quietly, just as you were about to leave.

He stood behind you, not saying a word.

“I… should go,” you mumbled, grabbing your purse.

“YN.”

You turned.

He was smiling. But his eyes—those eyes—were too calm. Too still.

“Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?” he asked softly.

You hesitated. “I just… need space.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

Then stepped closer. “You can have all the space you need.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers were cold. “As long as you don’t leave me.”

Your breath caught.

“What?”

“I said,” his smile widened, “I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of.”

You ran the next day.

Took a train to a city three hours away. Rented a small apartment under a false name. Burned your work badge. Changed your phone number.

You didn’t tell a soul. You didn’t pack much. You left behind your life like shedding old skin.

It felt like freedom. Brief, shaky freedom.

Until the doorbell rang.

You stared at the tiny screen connected to your door camera.

No one there.

You opened the door hesitantly, heart racing—and saw a box on the floor. White, square, tied with a deep purple ribbon.

Your favorite color.

You brought it inside with trembling fingers. Peeled it open slowly.

Inside: a crystal vase. Filled with lilies. Fresh. Dew-kissed.

A gold card tucked inside.

Your name written in elegant calligraphy.

You opened the card.

One sentence.

“There is no ‘away’ from me. You belong on the 42nd floor.”

---------------------•••------------------

Hey bitches!! I'm back from dead. I know I am late to this request. Sorry!! @living-in-a-daydream-24 but here it is.

And I am back after my internal exams almost killed me 😭

Do y'all need a sequel?? Maybe hobi's pov?

[asneakyfox]

well, let's say someone responds to you so consistently in such an annoying way that you start hesitating to post anything at all, because every time you draft a post, you imagine the exact very annoying argument they're going to start over it, and you find yourself engaging less and less with the fandom - if you just go along with that impulse, i think, you're letting that person control your own role in the discourse (whether or not you think they're actually trying to; it doesn't really matter if it's intentional or not here), and that's not good. i think the whole community is worse if people end up pulling away for that kind of reason. so i think that in those situations it's much better to block.

(one example of this sort of thing, fwiw, is the situation that prevailed in ofmd fandom with the canyon in, say, much of 2023 before s2 dropped; there was a good while where if you posted anything about izzy that wasn't fully canyon-compliant several canyon accounts would reliably descend upon you and argue so aggressively that most people outside the canyon just avoided ever mentioning izzy at all. i thought that was a bad situation, and that's the reason i ever started posting meta - i didn't want them controlling the conversation, so i started blocking the canyon and i resolved that if i had something to say about izzy i would say it, and people immediately started dming me to say how relieved they felt to see someone say what they'd been thinking. and the fandom only became a place where it was possible to talk about izzy after we all started blocking them. i think it was a big improvement when we did that, because he's an interesting character who can be fun to talk about!)

as far as vaguing and accusations go, like, ok, yes i'm thinking of a couple of specific people here, and i'm sure it's possible to figure out who they are. (the people in question have been 100% certain i was vaguing them before when i absolutely wasn't at all, so i'll be surprised if they can't figure out when it actually is happening!) so in that sense i'm not going to claim that it's not a vague, and if people don't like vaguing they can be mad at me if they want. but also vaguing specific people is not really the point here. i don't want to say who i'm talking about here because then the focus would be on whom i'm accusing and whether the accusation is justified, but i actually mean this as advice. i think you should follow this advice whether or not the people you need to block are the same people i would block. if anyone reading this finds that the person who makes you reluctant to post is me, then i think you should block me, and no hard feelings!

fox guide to dealing with people who keep trying to control the fandom discourse & silence any opinion that disagrees with them:

say whatever you want

when they complain block/mute them

say it again

[everysongineverykey]

i love how unfatherly crowley and aziraphale both are when it comes down to it. sure aziraphale is more than willing to give the young people in his life help and advice and be their friend but he and crowley spent six years (eleven in the book) practically raising a kid (you just know his parents weren't around that often) and by the end they didn't even like him. crowley even suggested they just fucking kill him. he turned three kids into lizards for annoying him right after he destroyed their house. like it was that or kill them obviously but he did NOT hesitate with the newts. that's so funny to me. they're just inherently disinclined to parenthood. we need more characters like them actually

[zahhaked]

Thinking more thoughts about This in light of the back and forth I have with @booksandberries. Sensei herself points out that Sasaki's growth is due to both Miyano and Hirano. And the thing with Miyano is almost certainly coming from a place of physical/sexual attraction because it's so hard to re-watch/re-read Sasaki and Miyano and not see how immediately Into Miyano Sasaki is, and letting his guard down is really the only way that is going to go anywhere. So Sasaki's pretty incentivized to get close to Miyano in order to get what he wants - which is that closeness itself. (I also someday want to make a post about my ideas about Sasaki's sexuality because in terms of this series he's the character who sort of gets the least amount of screen time actually "struggling" with the fact that Miyano is a guy. Like he does but it gets over it a lot quicker than most. Kagiura may as well but Kagiura's attraction to Hirano isn't rooted in physical attraction the way Sasaki's is for Miyano???? IMO)

But then: Hirano. The light novels give us plenty of glimpses into how they interact when they're alone, right? Their first meeting, the aftermath of The Fight, studying together, and so on. Sasaki appraising Hirano's abs and thinking about how ripped he is. Unlike with Miyano, Sasaki does have a guard up when he first meets Hirano, and he honestly keeps it up for a good while longer. He doesn't really divulge too many of his feelings to Hirano, and even though Hirano sort of watches the whole ssmy relationship develop (and even tries to impede it early on bc he doesn't trust Sasaki - maybe he can smell the lust pheromones?) they never Talk About it. And then one day - they do. "Did something happen between you and Miyano?" "Yeah, I confessed to him."

The volume of trust!!!!! The way Sasaki didn't hesitate. The way he relied on Hirano, and a little of that was rooted in his own desperation, because he knows he fucked up - but he also perhaps trusts that Hirano will help. Because that's what Hirano immediately does - he takes out his phone and tells Sasaki to fix it. If nothing else, he trusts that Hirano won't be Weird about him being in love with another guy - which, fair, Sasaki has been watching the whole Ritual going on with hrkg for months now, but plenty of people have internalized homophobia. It took a long time and a lot of work to get to the point where Sasaki so easily admits his feelings and his mistake to Hirano - and Hirano just takes it in stride. The trust Sasaki has in him is never misplaced. Hirano can hold that shit for him.

It does make me a little upset that this doesn't go both ways - I can't think of any moment in particular where Hirano allows Sasaki to help carry his burdens. And I kind of think, for all his griping, Sasaki would want to. But Hirano is so cool, calm, collected, so in his own head and capable of working through his own shit, he barely asks for advice - and when he does, it's super cagey and not obvious in the slightest...

But then again, when Hirano is looking for a birthday gift for Kagiura, he asks his friends for ideas, vaguely. What does Sasaki say he would want? Concert tickets. What does Hirano ultimately get? Basketball tickets. I don't think it's a coincidence.

Please join me in sshr brainrot hell we're open 24/7 :)

Been rolling this author commentary in my head since rereading the volume (it's Sasaki and Miyano, either volume 8 or 9).

I love that Harusono notes the ways that both Miyano and Hirano have had their impact on Sasaki; Miyano "encourages him to drop his guard" because Sasaki feels compelled to get closer to him. But with Hirano he "doesn't always put a guard up" because Hirano is a safe person to be himself around. Hirano doesn't expect him to be anyone but himself and doesn't ask him to change

[thestuffedalligator]

The thing was a mound of flesh and mottled skin, as big as a barn and the shape of a pumpkin. Four tentacles as thick as trees hung limp at its sides; teeth ringed the gaping mouth at the top of its head like a crown.

A huge, sad whale eye the colour of wine stared at the knight. She could see her reflection in the jelly surface.

“We don’t know what it is,” she heard. “Some kind of monster that makes a perfect copy of whatever it eats. They think that was how the Dark Lord made his armies, feeding his minions to it so that it would make hundreds of copies of them. Do you recognize it?”

The knight opened her mouth. She hesitated. “Yeah,” she murmured, drawing out the word. “We found it in the Dark Lord’s tower, right?”

“That’s right. That’s where it ate you.”

The knight turned around and looked at her other reflection. This one appeared to be about ten years older, and had doffed her armor for a loose blue tunic and breeches.

She was holding a cup of tea. She had pressed another cup into the knight’s hand when she woke up here. It had been a shock finding herself suddenly out the obsidian dungeons of the Dark Lord’s tower and into this tall room of stone and straw. The warmth of it in her hands steadied her a bit.

“Everyone else in the party was worried, but then it started making copies of you,” the copy went on, staring up at the tentacled thing. “And all of the copies helped fight against the Dark Lord, and we won, and peace was restored across the land, but then nobody could figure out how to kill the damn thing or just to make it stop. Dozens of copies of us in a day, hundreds in a week, and then someone decided that the only thing we could do is just bring the thing here, seal it off and hope it starved to death.”

She sipped her tea. “Anyways, that was two-hundred years ago and it’s slowed down a bit. It can only make a new copy of us every few weeks now.”

The knight looked down into her tea. The copy had also draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“I have so many questions,” she said.

“I figured.”

“How can it be two-hundred years? I can still remember breaking into the tower. That feels like it was just minutes ago.”

“It was, basically. Your brain is a perfect copy of the original you’s brain at the exact moment she was eaten.”

“But the quest is just — done?”

“Yep. You missed some of the things that needed tying up afterward. There was a war, and a dragon, and some business about a ring.” She waved a hand. “It was before my time. Things are pretty settled now.”

“My parents?”

“Passed away about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. I’ve been told that they were very proud.”

The knight nodded. “Um. I don’t know if you know — we had an elf in our party—”

“I’m aware.”

“I — right. Obviously. Um. It’s just, after everything was done, I was going to ask her—”

“One of us did. She said yes. She outlived her. A couple of us have tried to reach out since then, but she wants to be left alone for a while.”

The knight considered this. “Uh — right,” she said eventually. Her fingers tightened around the tea cup. “Um. What do I do now?”

Her older copy shrugged. She had let her hair grow out again, the knight noticed. There were a few strands of grey against the black. “That’s up to you, I’m afraid,” she said. “A lot of us are finding work as soldiers and sellswords. We’ve done it for so long that most armies know we’re reliable and don’t tend to turn one of us away. Most of us are just sort of spreading out, wandering the world. Some of us keep in touch.”

The knight frowned. “What do you do?”

Her copy paused, tea cup half raised to her lips. “Sorry?”

“You said it only makes a new copy every few weeks now. So you just stay here and wait for a new one to show up?”

She lowered the cup. “Well,” she said. “I guess I just — I know what it can be like, waking up here in the dark, and it — it can be horrible trying to figure all of this out on your own.

“So I thought that what I’d do is just stay here with a pot of tea, and whenever I see myself again, I tell her that — that she’s not alone.”

“We aren’t?”

“Of course not. We’re all in this together, you know.”

[neurobivergent]

/spoilers. I hope you’ve read the manga lol if not pls skip this/

Oh you’re mostly right and I have thought about this a little. A lot. In a funny way, there’s absolutely a fight breaking out and Sakura ends up having to yell at and babysit these two idiots.

On a more serious note, togame is the type of guy who will like his partner being adored as much as a person can be adored (re choji and the way Jo lights up when choji is doted on). He’s initially wary of Endo but notices Sakura manages to keep up and actually willingly engage in conversation with the guy. (Endosaku date official art) And while you’re right about endo’s jealousy, he’s the exact same. He likes it when his partner enjoys themselves, he canonically goes above and beyond trying to fulfill every single desire/wish that chika has. His aesthetic makes him seem like the overly possessive bad boy, but he’s really just a massive simp lol.

So me thinks - Endo is definitely very proprietary with Sakura, even more than usual in a bid to make togame jealous and prove to Sakura that he’s all he really needs. But Jo is satisfied as long as Sakura is safe and enjoying himself which confuses the hell out of Endo because he does not get the reaction he wanted. “Look at me I can provide in ways you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest dreams. I’m the most unhinged lover of all” with a smug little smirk while togame is completely unphased like “yeah? I hope to god you’re good or you’re wasting sakura’s time. Hop to.” lol. Togame in the manga is also extremely well adjusted and is likely the only patient one in this fuckass throuple. He sort of steers this ship, unintentionally, because he’s so laid back, soft spoken and full of praises and it makes both Sakura and endo’s defences shoot up and he occasionally has to shush and wrangle them and force the concept of “praising you for doing well is not a bad thing”

And while the other way around is probably going to be more rocky, with Endo trying to backseat drive togame and Sakura. He gets very sassy and opinionated about how not stellar togame is at taking care of of Sakura… and it pisses Sakura off, which endears togame because Sakura is being protective of him AND irritates him because Endo is someone togame does not trust all that much and now he’s rudely interrupting them??? Endo settles down after getting told off a few times and that’s where the magic happens imo. I don’t think endo’s the type to be sad/angry about not being the centre of his partner’s world, he would like to for sure, but he’s more the type to make his partner the centre of his world and catering to their every need without hesitation (this is canon btw). So while he’s sitting there outing after getting scolded, he comes to the realisation that his useless pissing match with togame has done nothing but take away from the time both of them could’ve spent reducing Sakura to a complete mess, and he also realises it is what both of them have been wanting to do anyway, which is the first thing either of them have agreed on.

Tldr, both togame and Endo are shameless simps, yin and Yang and they’re cut from the same “raging simp for one Sakura haruka” cloth. Togame’s gentle praises vs endo’s more colourful, filthy… praises nonetheless. Those two are givers, your honour.

Dark haired, green eyed, powerhouses that enjoy riling up and fighting a pissed off, fiery Sakura Haruka. They’re freaks that would absolutely tag team our resident feral kitten your honour, but I’m definitely not talking about a fight.

[krawdad]

Starting to like the idea of getting a second brush pen to put some accent color in

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument

love and deepspace

characters: Zayne, Sylus (pt2 here pt3 here)

note: they might be a little mischaracterized so bear with me.

Zayne

Usually, arguments with Zayne don’t get this heated. There was no yelling, not on his part at least, but he could be really cold with his words when he wanted to be. Not that you were any better. Some things you said hurt him to no end. So you came up with a decision - to sleep on a couch tonight. To be honest, it was more because to be petty, than not wanting to spend a night beside him. You gathered your pillow and blanket and got comfortable on the couch, which made Zayne sigh out loud when he entered the room.

“What is this?”

You turned your back to him as an answer. Another sigh comes out of his mouth. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you acting like a brat doesn’t ease anything at all.

“I know you’re mad, dear but is this necessary?”

No answer.

“Alright”

He left the room and before you could convince yourself that you didn’t care he was back with a blanket of his own and took a seat in an armchair. You turn your head towards him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I guess we’re not sleeping in bed tonight”

“I’m not. You can go”

“I believe I didn’t stutter”

You scoffed and turned around again.

“suit yourself”

Minutes pass and sleep doesn’t come to you. Whether it’s because of an uncomfortable couch or an absence of his arms around you is hard to say, but after turning around thousands of times and still not being able to sleep is frustrating.

Finally, Zayne had enough of watching your struggle.

“How about we go to bed?”

“No” came your response after a second of hesitation. With a small amused smile on his face, he hovered over the couch.

“What do you say… I take you to bed and you can curse me out for it tomorrow?”

You shifted a little but didn’t answer, which made his smile widen. He gathered you in his arms and your lack of objection was all he needed to take you to your room and tucking you in bed. Even though you seemed to warm up he didn’t know how far he could push you, so kneeling beside the bed to be on your eye level he started:

“If you still need space I can-”

“Stay”

He smiled at you tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Okay”

He got up and kissed your forehead before slipping in beside you and pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry..." you mutter

"Shh, we'll talk about it tomorrow... but I'm sorry too"

You smile a little. You two will sort this out tomorrow.

Sylus

What Sylus says, goes around. His word is the law. This is what he’s used to. That's how it's always been.

Then you came into his life and even though he’s still in charge of how things go in the N109 zone, you just need to say the word and everything will be how you like it. No questions, no hesitation. He would give you the world if you so much as whispered the need. Whatever you want, whatever you need, he will make it happen.

Unless, when it comes to your safety. Now don’t get me wrong. Sylus knows you can defend yourself and then some. But when it comes to the N109 zone, there are things Sylus knows better than you. Additionally, The fact that you can be reckless in your battles does nothing to help ease his worries.

That was the reason for the heated argument tonight. Sylus with his harsh words and snarky remarks always finds a way to infuriate you. So you two go on and on for half an hour now and none of you seems to back down. You storm off to your room and take your things to get comfortable on the couch. However, on your way out Sylus blocks your way. He raises an eyebrow at the blanket and pillow in your arms.

“Now, what exactly do you think you are doing, sweetie?”

“move”

“I asked you a question”

“I’m not sleeping beside you- Sylus” you exclaim as he hoists you over his shoulder. you punch and scratch his back but to no avail.

“Careful with your claws, kitten”

He drops you on the bed climbing over you.

“Now listen, this is what will happen. You will stop acting like a wild kitten and sleep beside me. I am sorry for hurting you but we will discuss it tomorrow, when we are both a lot calmer. Understood?”

You don’t want to give in so easily. You also don’t want to sleep without him tonight. So you nod avoiding eye contact. He, however, doesn’t accept it and raises your chin with his finger to make you look at him.

“Use your words, sweetie”

“Yes”

“Splendid” He removed himself from you so you could get under the blanket. He laid beside you and pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest.

"Sy... I'm sorry too"

"So I'm Sy now?"

This man.

"Nevermind, you're still a prick"

You try to remove his arm but he holds you tighter as he laughs.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, sweetie"

You felt him kiss the crown of your head as he caressed your shoulder with his thumb. you return to your previous position and listening to his heartbeat, sleep lured you in soon enough.

[brucedefender4eva]

Alfred felt as though it was incredibly inappropriate for a butler to accompany his young master to any sort of gala or gathering so Bruce had to get used to being by himself very quickly at a young age

Due to being left all alone when he would usually be with his parents, Bruce was put in increasingly unsafe situations over and over. Most of the time, there was no safe adult for him to feel comfortable enough telling. And if there was, how would he know they were safe?

He could tell Alfred, but what good would that do? Alfred has told him time and time again that he is his employee, nothing more and nothing less. Alfred cannot help him. Alfred cannot save him

Alfred doesn’t want to

I believe that at a very early age, due to how most of the socialites and rich people are in Gotham, Bruce had to get used to unwanted stares, touches, and advances

And he’s so pretty. He’s been so pretty ever since he was small, even with his parents alive they had to work hard to keep him safe. To keep others away. To draw a hard line in the sand for what is acceptable and what is not. But now they’re gone and he’s trying to keep himself safe. But people always want to touch, take, possess, and destroy pretty things

But all of his children are pretty too.

With all of his kids he makes sure that they’re as safe as can be, unlike how it was with him

The first time that he brings Dick to a gala, he holds the boy the entire time. Dick’s face is mostly tucking into Bruce’s suit jacket, shielding him from the flashes of the paparazzi and unwanted stares. Especially with his ‘exotic’ heritage of being Romani… it’s a recipe for disaster in Gotham

Bruce refuses to let a single person touch Dick, even socialites that he trusts. He knows how quickly someone you trust can turn on you once they realize you’re vulnerable.

He keeps Jason by his side as well. Gotham high society hates anyone who didn’t grow up rich. If he’s not by Jason’s side, he makes sure Dick is. Dick can now fend for himself, but Bruce always makes sure they’re in his line of sight.

Tim has been to these parties before, and considering how negligent his parents were… Bruce makes sure to tell Tim that he would never be mad at him for anything that happened and he is not to blame. That adults should have protected him and saved him. He tells Tim all the things he wished someone had told him when he was younger. They hug and cry about it.

He’s always so thankful that Stephanie never wanted to go to galas as mean as it makes him sound. She never had to be subjected to the cruelties of adults who had no business leering after young girls. Now that she’s older and sometimes pops in if Tim’s going, Bruce knows that they’ll protect each other.

Cass is strong and smart, but she’s also very very new to this life and more vulnerable than the rest of his kids. Bruce wishes he could give her a sense of normalcy. It’s just another thing that’s he failed at.

He knows that if push came to shove, like the rest of his children, she would not hesitate to defend herself. But there should be no shove. She shouldn’t have to. Bruce dances with her all through the night every time she decides to grace a gala with her magnificent presence. It keeps her happy, it keeps her away from harm

His youngest baby is a fire cracker, ready to take on anyone and anything that could possibly be perceived as a threat to him and his family. As much as his other babies joke that he keeps Damian nearby to stop him from stabbing people, he doesn’t want anyone to look at Damian.

Damian is barely older than he was when he returned back to Gotham high society. The only difference is that Damian now has him and all of his siblings. It’s still hard to let go, even if he knows his children are there to keep an eye on everything

Duke is very similar to Jason in more ways than one, epically since he was also born on the ‘poorer’ side of Gotham that most elites loathe unjustly. He’s seen it before, even with high standing black families. Being suddenly accused of stealing a watch or pickpocketing an expensive pearl necklace. Lives ruined simply because of the color of their skin

Nothing like that will ever happen to Duke in his presence. Bruce knows he can’t protect Duke from all the racism in the world, but man if he doesn’t want to try

Bruce has never let his family deal with his issues. He believes he’s simply not worth the trouble. So whenever he gets hit on at galas in ways that make him uncomfortable he just fakes a smile. When he feels unfamiliar hands touching him and grabbing at his body, he fakes more smiles and leans into if there are too many people watching.

Just as he’s about to make an excuse, any kind of excuse to finally get away and take a breather, Dick suddenly pops up in front of him while he feels Jason and Duke slide up behind him, pushing away the elites that had circled him

Bruce makes a soft confused sound, trying to figure out what was happening, but then Damian’s tugging on his sleeve and he already has his baby in his arms. The whirlwind that is Tim and Steph together sweep him away from the confused group of elites.

The group makes their way back over to where Cassandra is smiling expectantly, giggling softly at the confused expression on Bruce’s face.

“Dance with me?” She requested softly, knowing that Bruce would never refuse her. Bruce squeezes Damian to his chest before handing him over to Tim, which Damian surprisingly doesn’t protest

Bruce takes Cassandra’s hand and they dance around the ballroom floor with ease, over and over one of Bruce’s children came and swept him away before anyone else could get the chance

“Don’t worry, we got you Dad.” Dick smiled softly as Bruce spun him around before being passed over to Stephanie and Damian.

“I know.” Bruce chuckled, feeling so safe for the first time in a long time. “I know.”

[sixeyesonathiel]

pirate!satoru who has a bad habit of picking up shiny things and an even worse habit of teasing the sweet mermaid he meets every sunset.

he first saw you while chasing a storm. his crew had warned him of cursed waters ahead, thick with fog and stories about drowned men who never sank. sea birds had stopped circling, and even the wind seemed to hesitate—but satoru liked cursed things. they were usually interesting. and interesting things always led to fun.

what was more fun than a girl in the sea, glowering at his ship like it had insulted the ocean herself?

he remembers that day like salt on skin. ropes whipping in the wind, the creak of the ship’s old bones groaning beneath his boots. gulls screeched overhead, barely heard over the crack of thunder. and then—your eyes, breaking the water like two shards of moonlight, locked onto his with that same look of unimpressed calm, as if you’d already judged him and found him deeply, deeply annoying.

you were tangled in another crew’s net, fins thrashing, hands cut red from rope. he didn’t free you out of chivalry—no, he wasn’t that sort. he just hated the other pirates. loudmouthed, greedy, and smug, like they were owed the sea’s bounty. they caged you like a prize pearl in a box. and that pissed him off.

“i owe you a favor,” you’d said afterward, voice soft like seafoam clinging to a quiet shore.

“you can owe me your company,” he’d replied, tipping his hat like a man far too confident for his own good.

turns out, getting under your skin was impossible. your metaphorical skin might’ve been made of coral and old secrets. he teased. you smiled. he flirted. you tilted your head in confusion. he poked. you thanked him.

like now.

he lounges at the edge of the ship, one leg dangling lazily over the side. the sun’s lowering behind him, turning his white hair gold at the edges, glinting off the pale sweep of his lashes. the breeze lifts the ends of his coat, fluttering it just enough to add flair. in his hands, he twirls two mismatched seashells between calloused fingers, idly rolling them together with a click.

a few crewmates are scrubbing deck nearby, trading quiet gossip about strange tides and the price of fish. none of them look over. they know better. at sunset, the captain talks to the sea—and she talks back.

then you arrive.

rising slowly from the waves like the ocean herself breathed you out. droplets cling to your collarbone, shoulders glistening under the fading sun. your hair, wet and clinging to your cheeks, frames the serene warmth in your eyes. you blink at him with that same quiet anticipation, like this ritual—this meeting—is the most natural part of your world.

he smirks, holding up the seashells. “oi, these yours?”

your brow furrows as you float closer, curiosity blooming across your face. “mine?”

“they look like your bra,” he says casually, letting them swing between his fingers.

you tilt your head. “bra?”

satoru leans forward on his elbows, grinning like the smug little shit he is. his eyes gleam with mischief, watching your expression intently.

“you know. the thing you wear over your chest?” he makes a vague motion toward your own shell top, then glances down at the ones in his hand. “though these—” he eyes the tiny shells, then very obviously eyes you, “—are definitely snack-sized. yours are, uh. not.”

you look at the shells, then down at yourself. then back at him. your smile spreads slowly, luminously. “they’re very shiny. thank you.”

he freezes. “wait. no, that’s not—”

your fingers break the surface and take them gently, like he’s handed you something precious. your touch is cool, damp, and feather-light against his knuckles. he tenses, a little startled by the sincerity of the gesture.

“i will wear them tomorrow,” you say, delighted. “they’re beautiful.”

he sputters. “they’re too—wait, you’re serious?”

you nod, already lowering back into the waves, cradling the shells like they’re pearls from a lover. “thank you, satoru.”

the sea folds over you in one smooth motion, and you're gone—your tail flashing silver in the last bit of sun, leaving only ripples behind.

satoru stares at his now-empty hands. then drops his face into them with a groan. “i was teasing, you little—”

that night, he doesn’t sleep right.

he tosses in his hammock, arms crossed behind his head, boots kicked off haphazardly on the floor. moonlight drips through the porthole like spilled milk, casting pale lines across his wall. every time he closes his eyes, he sees the way yours sparkled. hears your voice echoing in the back of his skull. "i will wear them tomorrow."

“they’re too small,” he mutters. “they were for crabs. or like, decorative. who even makes shell bras that size?”

he flips over and buries his face into the pillow with a frustrated grunt. wills himself to sleep out of sheer frustration.

satoru wakes with a start the next morning, tangled in the hammock’s netting like a man caught in his own trap. the wood above him groans softly with the sway of the ship, but inside his skull, everything is loud. echoing. relentless.

"i will wear them tomorrow."

the memory hits again, not so much a whisper as it is a war drum. a cursed prophecy. his breath catches, and he blurts out—“shit.”

he nearly tumbles out of the hammock, lurching upright like he’s missed roll call at death’s door. his coat is thrown over his bare shoulders in a crooked mess, one sleeve still twisted from sleep. one boot is half on, heel dragging noisily across the floorboards as he bolts for the deck like a man late to his own wedding. his hair is a disaster—white tufts sticking out in every direction, the ends tangled like salt-kissed seaweed.

his crew parts like startled fish, wide-eyed and wary. some lift their heads from mugs of lukewarm grog, others pause mid-scrub, the morning sun casting halos over buckets and ropes.

“what’s gotten into the captain?” a deckhand murmurs, still holding a mop dripping seawater.

“maybe the mermaid did curse him,” another offers, leaning on the railing with a skeptical squint.

“more like blessed,” a third snorts, biting into an apple with the smugness of someone watching a romance unfold.

satoru hears all of it. ignores all of it. his boots clack against the wood like thunder rolling toward a storm.

his strides are frantic, yet deliberate. his shoulders tense. his expression, usually carved from smug marble, is twitchy—like a man walking into his own trap with his eyes wide open. he rakes a hand through his hair—more chaotic than usual—and curses softly when it tangles between his fingers.

the morning air is salty, thick with gull cries and the faint scent of fish stew wafting from the galley. behind him, the sun has barely begun to climb, painting the deck in long gold strokes and casting shadows that stretch like sleepy cats.

and there you are.

rising from the sea like a myth rewritten.

your silhouette breaks the water with ethereal grace, droplets clinging to your skin like borrowed starlight. your hair, soaked and glinting like pearls, drapes around your shoulders, framing your face with moonlit strands. your eyes—curious and bright—search the horizon before landing on him. and there, nestled over your chest in all their misplaced glory—those fucking seashells.

tiny. ornamental. utterly useless in the face of reality. they barely cover what they’re meant to. they sparkle obscenely under the sun.

satoru’s spine locks like a rigged pulley. his pupils shrink.

he pivots too fast—then smacks directly into the mast.

thunk.

“ow—! dammit—” he hisses, stumbling back and grabbing his forehead like he’s been cursed by the gods themselves. one eye cracks open, pained and watery, just in time to see you waving.

“satoru! good morning!”

your voice is sunshine poured over seafoam. you tilt your head, cheeks dewy and glowing, sea breeze brushing through your bangs.

he spins again, half-hiding behind the mast, gripping it like a lifeline tossed from a lifeboat. his mouth is dry. his pride is dissolving. he forces a grin—shaky, stretched thin like fraying rope—and manages, “h-hi.”

his voice cracks in the middle like a boy in love. a boy in trouble.

“the shells fit nicely!” you call, hands floating over the water’s surface as you paddle closer. “they’re a little snug, but very shiny. i like them.”

his brain just stops.

“i—i figured you’d—uh—you didn’t have to actually—I was just—just teasing—”

his words trip over each other like drunken sailors on a tipping deck. his hands flap helplessly in front of him, like he can push the moment away through sheer air resistance.

you blink, thoughtful. your tail flicks behind you under the water, sending a ripple that bumps gently against the ship. “teasing?”

he breathes in too fast and immediately regrets it, choking on his own spit. he bends slightly, hand over his chest like he might physically keep his soul from bailing.

he looks at you. really looks.

the way your brows knit together softly in confusion. the way your fingers cradle the shells like they’re delicate offerings. how your skin glows, kissed by the morning light, shimmering where droplets cling to you. how the innocence on your face is devastating.

he drags a hand down his face, fingers smearing across his cheeks. his pale strands falls over his eyes. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you look genuinely concerned. “with seashells?”

he gives a defeated nod, letting his forehead rest against the mast like he wishes it were a guillotine. “yes. exactly that.”

you hum thoughtfully, still watching him. “do humans often give shells like that to show affection?”

he chokes again. this time, violently.

“w-what?! n-no, i mean—sometimes? not like—i wasn’t—it’s not—”

you smile, pleased with the answer you’ve crafted from his gibberish. “then i’ll treasure them. thank you again, satoru.”

you say his name like it’s a charm, a secret tied to your tongue.

he might actually die.

[saerotonins]

big dick!caleb thoughts

Thinking about big dick!Caleb training your pussy to take every inch of him when the time you’re ready finally comes. 

Him painstakingly stretching your pussy out every other day with his thick fingers, toying your clit so he can easily insert two or three of his fingers when he’s feeling generous enough.

Big dick!Caleb refuses to use any toys because he wants you to feel him and only him, but it was clear to him that you need more stimulation other than his digits (much to his dismay).

The whirring of the vibrator against your clit makes him feel irrationally angry because it should be only him that’s making you feel good. The sinful noises released from your lips should be because of his cock and not some stupid toy. 

Big dick!Caleb who developed jealousy towards the dildo he purchased just to train your pussy to take him so well. The silicone head disappearing into your entrance makes him feel dizzy, wishing it was his cock inside of you. 

You feel his dick twitching from your behind as you settle on his lap as you moan his name, “quit squirming baby, fuuuck, you’re killing me here,” he says as he tries to look for some sort of friction to take care of his raging boner.

Big dick!Caleb who resorted to eating you out while his fingers do their job inside of you, making you come multiple times a night just so he can give you the pleasure you seek while he suffers with his hard-on.

Big dick!Caleb who almost crumbles when you beg him to suck his dick, trying to reciprocate the pleasure he has been giving you for the past few weeks since he can’t possibly imagine how he could fit his whole cock inside of you for the time being.

For your sake, he practices his self-control, saying no to your adorable face because he knows you couldn’t fit him in your mouth anyway.

Big dick!Caleb who resorted to jacking himself off every after session for release, for every pump of his fists he wished it was your pussy clenching around his cock, eager to milk him dry. The stolen panties pressed against his nose doing little to his imagination as he savors the remnants of your smell from the piece of lacy cloth.

His moans ringing against the bathroom walls as he fantasizes putting you in different positions, your walls feeling every vein on his cock while you babble like a bitch in heat, all in his mercy, pumping you full with his seed and leaving no drop behind.

Big dick!Caleb’s patience is running thin, he might have practiced self-control the whole time, upstanding discipline and determination courtesy of his secret training from the fleet coming in handy when it comes to you, but his cock buried deep into your pussy is one thing really needs and he doesn’t know until when he can last.

But when the time finally comes, he’s a goner. He sees your eyes pleading for him to finally fuck you. Caleb hesitates for a bit but when he sees the determination in your eyes, he agrees.

You exhale as you silently encourage yourself to sink on his cock, Caleb’s large hands digging into the fat of your hips, guiding you along his. 

Big dick!Caleb feels pathetic, the moment the head of his dick comes in contact with your hole already makes him weak, his breath becomes uneven as he feels himself stretching you out.

You cry out as you feel the dull ache spreading in your core, you know yourself that Caleb has been very patient in helping you prep for him, you wince as you feel like you already want to tap out when half of him isn’t inside you yet.

Sensing your frustration and the tears that start to well in your eyes, Caleb starts to coax you and your worries away.

“Shh, take it slowly sweetheart, we all have the time in the world, yeah?” He states, a large hand soothing the top of your head and glides along your face. The pads of his fingers find their way on your cheekbones, “it’s okay, you still have me,” Caleb’s voice was comforting, but did little to ease your worries away.

“I just want to make you feel good, you’ve been good and patient with me,” your eyes stare into his depths, keen to get the favor back to him. 

A soft smile spread against Caleb’s lips contrary to the swirl of arousal brewing within him, “I know baby, and I know you’ll do great,” he places a wet kiss against the corner of your mouth, “you can do it, yeah?”

A slow yet determined nod meets his encouragement, and Caleb thinks you’re the most adorable this way.

“Maybe you just need a little bit of guidance, how’s that sound?” His low voice trembles against his chest as you feel his free hand dance towards your pussy. 

“What do you mean— ah!” your question is cut short when you feel his calloused hands pinch the bundle of nerves in your pussy.

“Ah look at you go, baby, already doing so good just f’me, yeah?” You feel his rough pads brush and circle against your clit. You take a sharp breath as you close your eyes, the familiar sensation spreads in your body like clockwork, your head is thrown back as your back arches, chasing his digits.

“See how wet you are, sweet girl? Can’t believe this is all just for me,” His sultry voice echoes against your ears as your hips voluntarily grind against his hands.

You take this as your chance to sink lower into his cock, taking a deep breath as you suck into every inch of his length. Caleb fights every fiber of his being from slamming himself into you, letting you take your sweet time claiming him. “Shiiiit baby, stop teasing me,” you can feel his nails dig into the flesh of your thighs, restraining himself as he waits for your next move.

“‘M not, a-ah, s’too much!” You stop halfway, feeling his cock pulsating inside of you. The lines blurring between pain and pleasure floods your whole being, your mind hazy but still determined to make everything work.

“I knooow, baby, ‘m sorry, but you’re a big girl, yeah? You can do it for me, sweets,” his assurance leaves the tip of his tongue but it’s partially for himself as well. The chains of control making it hard for him to just take the reign and finally get every inch of himself into you but he doesn’t want to hurt you and so he relents, letting you do your thing, at your own pace.

Clutching on his shoulders, you force yourself further down his cock, the delicious ache stretching against your hole prominent but a welcomed feeling nonetheless, you take a sharp breath every time you sink in while feeling Caleb’s hands  on the globes of your ass guiding you down.

Your thighs burn as you keep yourself balanced on top of him until you finally meet his.

You stop on your tracks as you feel yourself settled on his thighs. Wide eyed, you look at him with enthusiasm. “Caleb, I think I did it,” you say in a whisper. But when your eyes met his, it was shut tight, it was obvious that every restraint that he put on himself is working overtime.

Oh how he badly wants to slam himself into you.

Swallowing down and taking a deep breath, he looks at you proudly, “see, knew you could do it, baby.” Caleb hides his face in the crook of your neck, taking your scent in as he controls himself from going berserk. 

You meet him in an embrace, hands exploring his nape as you bask in each other’s presence.

“Baby,” you hear Caleb breathe against you.

“Yeah?”

You can hear him gulp before he says his next words, “can I… move now? Please?” 

To the untrained ear, it might sound like a simple request but to you, it was obvious that it was laced in some level of desperation. You swallow down your nervousness, “o-okay.”

That was the only thing Caleb needed before he lifted your hips up and his thighs started to meet yours.

“Ah!” the sting of his thrust was masked with the pleasure of your pussy hugging his dick. Your back arching from the sheer force and ecstasy his dick is giving you.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

The constant clapping of your thighs echoes through the whole room, every vein on his dick felt in every inch of your walls, the mixture of your moans harmonizing as he indulges himself in every thrust.

“My sweet, sweet, girl, taking my cock like it was hers to claim, you’re so good to me,” his thrusts became more and more violent, the tip of his length kissing your cervix just right. Every in and out feels like he’s hitting every right spot in your body. 

“C-caleb! ‘M sooooo close, nghh ha-ah!” incoherent noises started to leave your mouth, your mind fogged with ultimate lust with the man inside of you.

“Shh, wait for me sweetheart, hold on for me just a sec, ‘kay? You can do it for me,” his encouragement sends shivers down your spine. You could only nod as you were unable to find the words to reply, mind in the gutter as you feel yourself get stretched deliciously, pussy molding every vein in his pounding cock.

Your senses heightened, you feel yourself get closer to your climax, like hanging on a piece of thread, you find it hard to stop, surge of emotions filled within you as Caleb claims you. His fingerprints danced against your skin as he fought everything within him to go rougher.

You soon feel your back hit against the cold and soft sheets of your bed, laying down as Caleb places your ankles on his shoulders, “patience, baby, we’ll get there soon enough,” he says as you feel his lips gently placed on your forehead, a silent praise for how you’re taking him well so far.

Caleb slowly pulls his dick out and as you were about to protest, you feel him slam against you, harsher than his thrusts from earlier. You feel yourself gasp, his fat girth slowly fitting just right into you, “mngh, such tight fucking pussy, glad I trained it to be mine,” your fingers grip the sheets beneath you, knuckles forming white as you let out a mixture of whines and moans, begging him to take more of you.

“Caleb, s’good, hng— moreee!” Your begging does not fall on deaf ears as he rams his cock into you, force harsher than it was and pleasure begins to intensify. 

“Hah, look at you and your cunt getting greedy, sucking me in like a bitch in heat, yeah?” Caleb let out grunts as he lets himself get lost into you. “Fuuuuck, should fuck you like this everyday, get your womb full of my seed and have my babies grow inside of you, yeah?”

“Yes! God ha-ah, fill me up please, ngh—”

“Wan’me to make you a momma so bad, glad I’m treating your pussy like the whore that it is for my cock, yeah?”

“Mh-hmm! Want it— hah— so bad,” your words become incoherent as you get drunk with his cock stuffing you full, you can feel him pulsating as he continuously bullies himself into your tight cunt.

The whole thing feels like sin, but you couldn’t get yourself to stop, feeling every inch of his mean dick brings you ecstasy, your eyes rolling at the back of your head, bringing you higher than any drug ever could.

“‘M close, baby, meet me there, yeah?”

“Uh-huh! Inside p-pleaseee,” you whine, feeling yourself clench against his dick.

“Shiiit, baby, can’t hold any longer when you’re squeezin’ me like this, mngh—” his grunts filled the cool air, jaw clenched as he got closer, dick twitching while feeling your hole hugging every inch.

Caleb gives it a few more thrusts before letting himself go inside of you. White ropes of cum painting your insides as his cock pulsates itself inside, filling your womb full of his seed. Your feet curl at the weird but welcomed sensation, moaning in delight at the satisfying feeling rushing in your body.

Both of you were panting as Caleb fucks his cum into you, “let’s not waste anydrop, yeah, sweets?”

“Ngh, mh-hm,” your whine draws on as he slowly gets all of his seed in your cunt, swiping his tip on the trickling release against your thighs and ass.

Caleb collects himself before cradling your face in his hands, fixing your hair away from your sweat sheened face. He drinks the sight before him, your cockdrunk face and hazy eyes looking at him, exhausted but beyond relieved. 

“You did it baby, ‘m so proud of you, I love you,” he says before kissing your forehead, a gentle and sincere gesture contrary to the intense lovemaking he just did with you.

Dazed and worn out, you decide to reply with a small smile, “love ya, too,” were the last words you said before slowly drifting to sleep.

He lets out a boyish smile and places another chaste kiss on your lips. He never felt this content until now.

Big dick!Caleb swears that from now on, he will make a mold of every inch of him with your tight cunt, like it was made for him to dote and love, fitting right in just like a glove.

note: this was supposed to be a short ramble but i got carried away, my bad lol.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[savanir]

The What Corps?

“we have you now spook! there is nowhere you can run and hide with our new spectral tethers active!”

Danny winces at the small metal clips that have hooked themselves in his leg, some new GIW tech that is messing with his powers.

“oh yeah? I was just dying for you guys to give me a challenge” plan. plan. He's gotta think of a plan to get out of here and fast. He takes a steadying breath and starts to look for anything that can help him.

he can’t get caught here. He just can't. He simply won’t allow himself.

suddenly the two GIW goons in front of him click their earpieces to clearly listen to what someone else is telling them, Danny is very glad for his own enhanced senses.

“Operatives K and O, be advised, there have been sightings of a new ectoplasmic entity near your location. Other operatives report that it’s incredibly small and moves fast. watch your backs, this may be an ambush”

small and fast? it better not be some poor little blob ghost, Danny sort of hopes it’s some manner of ectowasp, at least that could be entertaining to see.

“you better not be hoping for back up, ecto scum”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”

It's then that a small bright green light zips on scene and weaves through crowds in the distance with ease and then speeds up towards the two operatives who do not hesitate to shoot, missing completely like the storm troopers they are.

Whatever it is, it is indeed going very fast but Danny manages to figure out what it looks like and it appears to be a… ring?

“hold it you tiny accessory shaped ecto fiend!”

The ring does a speedy circle around Operative O while K is lining up a shot and ends up blasting the poor guy point blank in his face, “O!”

Danny takes a step forward with an arm outstretched and a “oh damn! Are you alright?” on his lips when the ring takes the chance to slip on his finger. “Daniel Fenton of Earth”

Danny already had a freakout about a ghost jewelry getting on him, his experiences with those so far have been incredibly bad after all, what with the rings and crowns and pendants… now this damn thing is just straight up outing him! 

Thank the ancients the two GIW stooges are too busy with each other right now to pay close attention to what this weird ring is saying.

“You have the ability to overcome great fear” ah so this is related to him steeling himself just now? Maybe? or something??

You have been chosen” never good, we are back to freaking out again.

“Welcome to the green lantern corps” 

… the what?

Danny notices that his usual outfit suddenly has more green going on, and his DP symbol has some sort of… he guess it’s supposed to be a lantern, maybe? shape around it.

He’s somehow even more glowy now, and there is something on his face. Feeling its shape makes him think it’s some sort of mask.

The metal clip things are no longer attached to his legs though so that’s great!

“You’re not getting away so easily ecto scum! sentient ghost paraphernalia coming to your rescue or no!” They both aim their weapons to take a shot.

Danny figures he can now easily hold them back with his usual shields,“you guys realize you just called this weird ring sentient and thereby negate the whole nonsentie-ack!”

“Attacking a corps lantern is punishable offense as of the instatement of the galactic diplomatic immunity as declared by the-” Okay so now Danny is just raising his eyebrow at this weird as fuck ring. Just what is it going on about?

“notifying nearby lanterns and requesting assistance with apprehension of hostiles”

what?

“getting your friends to help you out vile spook? such a thing is useless with the Blackout still very much in place”

Well… the two streaks of green light in the distance is making Danny doubt that statement.

Maybe there is more to this Lantern corps thing than he thought… And something tells him his life is about to get even more complicated than it already is.

[kingkaisen]

“What? You’re married? And you’re a dad?”

Yuji finds out that 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 has a family. — same au as this ♡

Yuji Itadori wanted to know more about the world’s strongest sorcerer, who he was lucky enough to have as his teacher.

The two of them walked along the sidewalk peacefully after completing a bit of training.

As Yuji devoured his blue popsicle, his wide eyes stared at the side of his teacher’s face.

Despite the black blindfold covering his ocean blue eyes, Gojo could feel his student’s eyes on him for two minutes straight.

“I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into something yet,” Gojo spoke up, breaking the silence as he smiled slightly. “Why are you staring at me? Something on my face?”

“No, I just had a question I wanted to ask you — can I?” Yuji tilted his head a bit.

“Don’t be silly, of course you can. What is it?”

“There’s a ring on your finger.”

Gojo was silent for a moment, but his amused grin widened. Eventually, he said, “that’s not a question, Yuji.”

“I know, I know, I just . . .” Yuji hesitated. After all, discussing such a personal topic with someone as superior as Satoru Gojo could have been disrespectful. Even so, he took his chances anyway. “Are you married?”

“I am.”

“Really?” Yuji smiled excitedly. He tossed his discolored popsicle stick in a nearby trashcan, and continued his late afternoon stroll with Gojo.

“Yeah, I’ve been married for eight years. Our anniversary is coming up pretty soon, actually. Think I’ll plan some sort of trip.”

“Wow, that’s really cool! Who are you married to? Do I know ‘em? What are they like?”

Due to his unwavering grin, Gojo felt a burning sensation in his light pink, blushed cheeks. Thinking about you had always resulted in him smiling so much, his face would hurt.

“You don’t know her, but Megumi does. Her name is Y/N, and she isn’t a sorcerer anymore, just an ordinary person who enjoys ordinary things, and I love that more than anything. Our daughter is-”

“What?” Yuji suddenly halted his footsteps.

“Hm? Something wrong?” Gojo questioned as he stopped walking, turning around to face the shocked boy.

“You have a daughter? Like an actual kid?” Yuji paused. “How come you never mentioned any of this before? How old is she? I wanna meet your family! Why have I never met them?”

“She‘s four,” Gojo laughed softly, and started to resume his walk along with Yuji. “Guess I had no idea you assumed I had no family, but it’s fine, you can meet them anytime you want. Wanna see a couple of pictures?”

“Yeah!” Flashing a bright smile, Yuji eagerly waited for Gojo to unlock his phone and scroll through his photos.

After only a couple of seconds — as it didn’t take the older man any time at all to find a photo of the two most beloved people in his life — Gojo handed his phone to Yuji, showing him a recent picture of the three of you hanging out at the park.

“Oh man, is that your wife? She’s really, really pretty, and your kid looks like the perfect combination of you both! Well, I guess that makes sense because you’re her parents, but it’s like fifty-fifty! She has your eyes, but Mrs. Gojo’s hair . . .” Yuji zoomed in and out of the photo as he rambled on, even taking it upon himself to search Gojo’s photos for even more pictures. “No way, is that Mrs. Gojo and Fushiguro? Fushiguro looks so young!”

“Yeah, he was around seven years old at the time. Me and Y/N were just dating then, but I knew I wanted to marry her. Best decision of my life.”

“When can I meet them?” Yuji asked, his brown eyes sparkling with hope.

“Why do you wanna meet them so badly?” Gojo reached out and grabbed his phone from Yuji, who had started to scroll a bit too far.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Smiling, Yuji paused. “You’re kinda like family to me now, I guess. So, I wanna meet the people you cherish the most, ‘cause I wanna cherish them too.”

Gojo didn’t say another word. Not to Yuji, at least. Instead, he hummed with satisfaction at his student’s kind words, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found yours.

“Hi, baby,” Gojo greeted you over the phone, “Would you mind if I bring a student of mine over for dinner? He really wants to meet you . . . he’s not allergic to anything . . . Okay . . . That works for us . . . Tell my muffin that I’ll be home soon . . . I love you more, bye sweetheart.”

“Okay, we-”

“Great! Which way is your house? Which way? Is it this way?” Yuji excitedly started to run off in no particular direction, and Gojo couldn’t help but laugh.

While Yuji said he simply wanted to cherish Gojo’s family, Gojo knew that it was a bit deeper than that. After all, as far as Yuji was concerned, he had no one. He craved the domestic nature of a loving family. He was all alone.

Once they made it to Gojo’s home, Yuji excitedly greeted you with a hug as if he had known you his entire life.

He adored your food, laughing and chatting at the dinner table.

He adored your home, carefully admiring your decorations and asking plenty of questions.

He was also kind enough to help out with the dishes, and play with dolls with your daughter afterwards, using silly voices as he truly got into the role.

And, later on, when he saw Gojo grab your grinning face and shower it with kisses, and his little girl happily run up to him as he picked her up, tickling her as she giggled, Yuji silently hoped that one day, he too would have a family just as loving.

But, he didn’t have to observe the happy family from a distance much longer, as, suddenly, you and Gojo waved the boy over, and wrapped your arms around him in a silly, loving, group hug.

And he felt loved.

— PART III —