#Honestly I liked it more than I thought I would

[clockwayswrites]

An abundance of birbs part 33

Masterpost Please no editing or concrit, I know I have missing or swapped words, but I am super fuzzy from this headache. It will get a good edit before ao3. <3

“I’m hiding in here from your children,” Danny said as he came into Bruce’s study. He had a tray of tea and snacks in hand, so he must have been sent up by Alfred.

“That’s more than fair, considering,” Bruce said with a little smile.

Danny just sighed as he set the tray down. “You have video, don’t you.”

Bruce nodded. “Jason sent one and Tim the other. They’re very moving.”

“Yes, Jerry’s love for me is eternal, clearly,” Danny drolled.

“If only Jerry’s father would approve of the union,” Bruce said.

Danny gave a little hum as he poured the tea. “Alas, Damian does seem very resistant to the idea, if the lecture he gave Jerry is any indication. Cream, sugar?”

“A little cream, thank you,” Bruce said and got up from his desk. “And Jerry was being very forward so the lecture may be a little deserved, but who can blame him with those wings.”

“Mister Wayne,” Danny said with an exaggerated gasp, “are you you saying that you’re enamored with my wings?”

Bruce reached out and brushed his fingertips through Danny’s wings. He could play it all off, of course. It could just be part of the rest of their banter. But did he want to? He’s enjoyed having Danny around. The man seemed to just fit with the family. Overall, the children certainly seemed to like him. And, well, Bruce found that he quite liked Danny too. Maybe it was time to take a little risk.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “Though the wings are hardly the only thing about you that I’m enamored with.”

Danny blushed so quickly that Bruce was honestly a little concerned bout Danny’s blood pressure. “I—um, oh?”

“Is it that surprising? You’re kind, intelligent, considerate. You protected my children and even before that were gentle and understanding with them. You have a sense of humor and seem able to handle just about anything,” Bruce said, which was almost an understatement with what Danny has been through lately. “And, more shallowly, you’re very attractive, with or without the wings.”

“That—I—oh come on, you of all people can say someone else is attractive!” Danny sputtered.

“Oh?”

“Have you not looked in a mirror recently? You’re the type of person that ‘devastatingly handsome’ was coined for,” Danny said with a gesture at Bruce. “Which is something that I just said out loud. I don’t suppose you want to fire me so that I can run away to a remote island somewhere?”

Bruce chuckled. “Fortunately, I don’t have that sort of power over your job. All that would fall to Lucius.”

“Fortunately?” Danny repeated.

“Umhum. It means that there’s no company policy we’re breaking if we were to date. And there’s no pressure for you to say yes if you’re opposed to the idea,” Bruce said. He very much wanted to make that clear. “And between the press, my reputation, the large family, and the recent rogue attack I know there are a number of reasons to be opposed to the idea.”

“Bruce,” Danny said before Bruce could continue, “are you trying to talk me into dating you or out of it?”

“I well…” Bruce cleared his throat. “I don’t want to assume anything or imply that I am some sort of catch because I hardly am. I am a stubborn man. I have… a rather deep seated anxiety that verges on paranoia at times. It has and can make me overbearing when I try to protect the people I care about. I come with six children, almost as many pseudo children, and a frankly terrifyingly competent butler who is like a father to me. Every relationship I’m in and not actually in ends up in the paper—”

The spiral of words—of reasons he wasn’t good enough for someone like Danny was cut short as Danny pushed himself up on his tiptoes and across the coffee table to press his lips to Bruce’s. Bruce sighed softly into the kiss as it put sudden stop to the unwanted thoughts. Danny left his hand on Bruce’s cheek as he pulled back a little.

“Too forward?” Danny asked. His words and eyes alike were filled with nerves.

“Not at all,” Bruce said quickly. He followed his words up with a quick kiss as proof. “I am sorry about rambling like that. As I said, deeply anxious.”

“Anxious is okay. You’re aware of it. I’m not exactly a paragon of mental health either. I’ve been going to therapy since I was eighteen,” Danny said. His thumb gently stroked Bruce’s cheek. “First off, fuck the press. I can deal with it. Second off, your family is huge and wonderful and not at all something that would stop me, not unless they hated me.”

“They certainly do not hate you,” Bruce assured him.

“Third off,” Danny continued with a little smile, “I guess the anxiety, which we’ve covered. And fourth off, I am also very stubborn and have no problem telling someone to budge off if they’re being too much. So, yeah, we might have lines to find out and some of those we’d find out be crossing them and fucking up, but that’s just part of dating, isn’t it? If any of them become lines that we can’t deal with, well, we’re old enough that I would hope that we could end things maturely.”

“I have a very good track record of remaining friends with my exes, for better or worse,” Bruce said.

“Better or worse?”

“Harvey Dent, as one example.”

“Ah,” Danny said with a little nod. “I’ve heard that he’s been doing better at least?”

“That or he’s planning something big,” Bruce said with a sigh. “But I even I know I should stop talking about an ex with someone that just kissed me.”

“Generally a good rule,” Danny agreed with a little smile. “Does this mean that we’re going to try dating?”

“If I didn’t talk you out of it,” Bruce joked.

“Like I said, I’m stubborn,” Danny pointed out. “But as much as I adore them, I expect at least one dinner out with no children once my wings are gone.”

“Deal,” Bruce agreed easily and leaned down to give Danny a proper kiss.

---

AN:

I didn't plan for the kiss to happen here, but I'll take it!

[tvfangirladdict]

Big on this.

Just because(you believe) 2 characters have romantic or sexual feelings for each other does 👏not👏 mean👏 everything👏 they 👏do👏 with👏 each👏 other 👏automatically 👏becomes👏 a 👏romantic👏or👏sexual👏act👏. Capice?

I can admit when I ship two characters who have no romantic/sexual connection in canon but I'm not gonna let my shipper goggles change the reality of what's actually happening(usually. I try anyway). Showing the different aspects and depths of platonic/familial relationships is so important, don't take away from that just because you want them to kiss, okay? Physical touch, emotional vulnerability, mental familiarity/closeness/affection, etc are all parts of those types of relationships too, not just romantic ones.

When my best friend and I have sleepovers we share a bed because we've known each other our whole lives and we just never grew out of it- doesn't mean we like each other romantically. I can cuddle with friends because I'm tactile and it brings me contentment- doesn't mean it's romantic. They're the ones I call or text when I need someone to talk to and I rely on them emotionally- doesn't mean I have romantic feelings for them. My friends know more about my mental state and my history than anyone, including family- doesn't make it romantic. I'd trust them with my (hypothetical) kids- doesn't make it romantic. I can tell my friends "I love you"- doesn't mean it's in a romantic way just because I do all of the above and more.

I understand there's occasionally some overlap when things are unsaid, when it's a vibe or look or something less concrete that can be open to interpretation. Still, admit that, don't take one action that is common in non-romantic relationships as well and point to it and declare that it can only happen in romantic relationships.

Even if one or both have feelings for each other, it doesn't make everything they do romantic/sexual, especially when it hasn't been admitted to in canon. Hugs, cuddling, seeking emotional comfort, empathy, compassion, thoughtfulness, etc, are all also platonic behaviors/actions. Just because you think it's accompanied by a look or a vibe doesn't change that, it would just mean that it had an added layer of meaning for that character.

For reference, ships I've shipped with no Canon definitive romantic moments:

-Sylveride(Chicago Fire)

-Sterek(Teen Wolf) (This one might get me shot, I know, but nothing in canon made me think they were inherently romantic. One of those ones where nothing they did didn't fit a brothers/friends narrative, but had vibes for some people)

-Morcia(Criminal Minds)(ship tf out of them, but I can admit their interactions were platonic, rgardless of any possible hidden romantic feelings)

-Gibbs/DiNozzo(NCIS)

-Dom/Brian(Fast&Furious)

-McDanno (I honestly almost put this one on both lists, because there are no definitive scenes where I can't play devil's advocate and point out that brothers couldn't also say or do that, or that a non-shipper couldn't refute, but the vibes are undeniable if you're open to it as an option. They never got together but I still believe feelings were there.)

-Billy/Steve(Stranger Things)

Ships that haven't gone canon(yet) but that definitely overlap and live in a gray area between platonic and romantic because some things just are not normal in platonic relationships(Again, still doesn't make everything they do romantic/sexual):

-Buddie(911): Simialr go McDanno, but I believe they've taken it far enough to justify being on this list imo. Too many moments don't fit platonic friends.

-Bensler(SVU)

-Bethyl(TWD): I feel secure in moving this to this list after Norman confirmed feelings on Daryl's side.

shipping characters who are just friends in canon is more than okay but what’s annoying is when people take screenshots of them touching and say “friends don’t do that!”. i hate to break it to you but friends do hug and hold hands and cuddle. saying ‘friends don’t do that’ is reenforcing the idea that physical touch is reserved for lovers

[mariasont]

dangerous currents

sharing a wall with hotch means resorting to a midnight swim, you weren't expecting him to join you

pairing: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warnings: fem!reader, midnight swim, reader alluding to some naughty thoughts, hotch accidentally grabs readers ass prompt: here wc: 1.2k

Honestly, you don’t recall consciously deciding to go swimming. One minute you’re wrestling with sheets that somehow manage to be both itchy and disappointingly thin, trapped in the endless loop of your overly chatty brain, and the next you’re thigh-deep in moonlit waves, saltwater lapping around you like a peace offering for your misery.

If you’re being brutally honest (and lately, brutal honesty seems to be your new best friend), your insomnia might have something, just a smidge, to do with Hotch lying just inches away, separated by drywall and what might as well be actual paper for insulation.

Your hearing has leveled up overnight, picking up every breath, every toss and turn from his side. 

It feels wrong, intrusive even, but also exhilaratingly intimate.

Which explains why, at two in the morning, you’re out here, counting on saltwater to settle your overactive mind and extinguish the stubborn heat flooding your face.

You’re mid-float when your instincts snap you upright, adrenaline spiking so fast you almost inhale a lungful of ocean.

There’s a shadow on the shoreline.

But then it steps forward, moonlight carving out the unmistakable angles of a handsome face that sends your stomach tumbling into your feet for a different but no less stressful reason.

Hotch.

You could laugh or cry, but instead, you quietly make your way towards the shore, waves breaking around your ankles.

“You scared me half to death,” you mumble, hugging your arms around your chilled body and feeling every bit like a reckless kid who’s just disappointed the one person she desperately wanted to impress.

“Do you know how unsafe it is to swim alone at night?” His lips press into a straight line. “Anything could’ve happened, and none of us would have any idea.”

“Sorry,” you exhale, sincerity tangled up with humiliation as your gaze flickers upward through wet lashes. 

You mean it. Of course you do — he looks worried, and that worry always seems worse when it’s aimed directly at you.

Hotch studies you for a second, then asks, “Do you plan on coming inside anytime soon?”

Going inside would be simpler. Easier. You could neatly sidestep this entire messy situation.

But the moment you close the door behind you, it’s back to square one — too quiet, too dark, thoughts screaming at you in surround sound.

A single creak of his bed, and suddenly you’re in dangerous territory. What if he sleeps shirtless? Or in boxers? What if that sound he just made is the result of an indecent dream?

And then, somehow, you are the indecent one, palms tingling with a restless need that used to feel rare but lately shows up with frustrating frequency.

All because of him.

“I think I’ll stay out for a little longer,” you say, tossing a forced shrug. “The ocean hasn’t tried to kill me yet, so I figure we’re on decent terms.�� 

Hotch arches a brow at that, clearly unamused. He glances at the ocean, then back to you, a silent calculation taking place behind dark eyes.

Then, without warning, he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, folding it once before tossing it onto the sand.

“What are you doing?”

He gives you a faint, reckless half-smile. “Making a bad decision.”

You laugh, more out of shock than anything else.

He steps toward the water, shirtless, and suddenly every thought you’ve ever had vacates your head.

Sure, yesterday you’d seen him on the beach, but that was distant and crowded, shielded by sunglasses and casual team conversation. 

Here, now, it’s just you, him, and the unsparing glow of moonlight revealing every agonizing thing you absolutely shouldn't notice. Like the dark dusting of chest hair, the disciplined sculpt of muscle across his torso, the line of hair drawing your gaze lower, lower —

You swallow roughly, stepping deeper into the water to physically pull yourself out of danger, but your gaze betrays you once more, darting sideways in helpless fascination.

“How did you know I was out here?”

“You’re not exactly quiet.”

Your blood turns to ice, then instantly flares hot. How did it never occur to you that if you could practically track his breathing patterns, he could easily have heard your shifting, your whispered curses, or worse, that one barely suppressed sigh when your imagination got carried away earlier.

“I guess not,” you mutter, “I didn’t realize you were listening.”

His laugh is quiet but genuine, and you’re surprised to find yourself smiling in return. How bizarre yet wonderful it is to witness the softer version of Hotch, miles away from the person he has to be at Quantico. You suddenly want very much to keep him like this.

“Funny,” he murmurs, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Your face instantly burns, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful for the darkness, although knowing your luck, that probably isn’t really doing you any favors. You force a shaky laugh, pretending you didn’t just hear the tease in his voice, or at least pretending it didn’t affect you.

“You really didn’t have to come out here,” you say, eyes fixed stubbornly on the horizon past his shoulders. “I would’ve been fine, you know.”

The water rises around your collarbones, licking under your chin with every small movement. Hotch stands barely submerged past his chest. Even nature is unreasonably biased toward him.

You dig your toes deeper into the sand, resisting the tide and the impulse that keeps nudging you closer to him.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t drown.” 

You open your mouth — to protest, maybe flirt (wishful thinking, obviously), or perhaps just awkwardly deflect — but before you can embarrass yourself further, a sudden wave crashes forward, knocking you straight into him.

Hotch barely budges, absorbing most of your momentum, but your hands land catastrophically. One lands safely on his chest, but the other falls disproportionately lower, fingers splayed over the enticing line of hair disappearing beneath his waistband. 

Simultaneously, his own hand catches your hip, then slides, firm and unintentional, on your ass.

Both of you freeze. 

“Sorry — I — um, the wave.” As if that clarifies anything at all.

Beneath your hand, his stomach tenses, his chest lifting with increasingly rapid breaths.

Still, Hotch doesn’t move, doesn't shift away. His palm stays exactly where it landed, warm, and surely, he has to know exactly what he’s doing. He has to.

“You’re freezing.”

“I —,” you start but whatever you meant to say disappears before it finishes forming. 

He slowly, almost reluctantly lifts his hand from you. Your skin sparks at the loss, hypersensitive where he just was.

When you meet his eyes again, something new flickers there — something you’re certain wasn’t present before tonight. 

Want.

It’s a look he’s taught you to recognize — eyes darkening, pupils dilating, respiration just a bit quicker. Except this isn’t an interrogation room, and the person in front of you is not a suspect, he’s Hotch.

And this want feels very, very personal.

But he only nods once, then glances toward the beach house.

“We should get out of the water.” 

You don’t want to get out. Every part of you rebels at the idea of leaving this bubble. This fragile space that’s somehow made everything else feel distant, unreal.

But you can’t deny the truth in what he doesn't say. If this boundary were broken tonight, there’s no going back, no returning to the careful neutrality you’ve both perfected.

So, you nod slowly, forcing acceptance as your heart protests.

He moves first, and you fall into step beside him, close enough that your shadows merge.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

💌 click here to check in → confirm your room (and crush)

maria's spring break getaway masterlist

[invincibledc]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍!𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Being a zombie with the clear consciousness of a normal human, either sucks or is cool. Parts of your body can be reattached and fall off.

It's even more useful when Mark grabs your stitched head and throws it at enemies. Sure the teen team was shocked and thought you were dead. But surprise surprise, you can't kill what's dead.

Mark wasn't sure if this combo would work as he would use all his strength and just throw you like a bullet. After that, it succeeds, and mostly it doesn't.

People would assume that you and Mark are just co-workers, but honestly, you guys are just more than co-workers.

You both, are bros. Brothers, best friends, pals. Am I putting it into your head yet? Either way, Mark always likes to use the “Can you give me a hand?” and then you give him a hand.

It's magical… in its little fun way.

[noctiva]

omg hai me again! (first time anon…well, second time now)

i would KILL for those relationship hcs with toby, i love him so much, i wanna give him a good life :( poor guys honestly through so much ughhhhh

okay bai bai!

(im definitely gonna be back, maybe 🌝 anon? watch out :3)

I got you!! let’s get it!

—

Toby Rogers - Relationship HCs [SFW + NSFW!]

CW: NSFW content! Descriptions of and mentions of sexual acts, mentions of pregnancy and breeding, mentions of violence + murder, toxic behaviour, possessive + jealous behaviour, mentions of fighting w/ a partner (verbally and physically)

[PSA! I’m dividing this into two separate sections because I have two separate headcanons for toby dearest, as you can read about here!]

-

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

-

For me, how Toby would act in a relationship is dependent on if he’s retained his past memories or not! Let’s talk about both <3

Memories intact! [SFW]

A loverboy in the most fucked up sense of the word

Lives each day wondering how on earth he manage to land you, and is partially convinced you’re a figment of his imagination because of how goddamn perfect you are in his eyes.

Because of this, he is a bit… Clingy. When you first meet, all of the ‘what if’s’ are drowned out by how intense his emotions are - but once he gets situated, the shock melts away for thoughts much more destructive.

Toby puts you on a pedestal. Like some sort of goddess compared to him. So sweet, pure, and untainted by the horrors he’s been subjected to.

So, the awe of being with you very quickly becomes bordered with the overwhelming fear that you’ll one day grow bored of him.

Or worse, one day grow scared of him.

His jealousy is absolutely volatile when left unchecked. His thoughts spiral quickly, and he feels things very intensely.

Laughed at a joke another proxy made? Oh, must mean that you like them more than him. Share a cigarette with Tim because you ran out? Yeah, you guys definitely must be fucking behind his back.

Oh, and if they’re not a fellow proxy? Yeah, they’re good as dead if they so much as hold a door open for you.

It’s… an issue, to say the least. It gets to the point where you can’t even look at another man without Toby twisting himself into a knot.

Like a dog, growling at anyone who even comes close to its territory.

And don’t… Don’t try to reason with him. He won’t budge, no matter how many times you try to calm him down.

And if you’re really insistent about it, things can get messy fast.

Immediately, he’ll be convinced all of his worst nightmares are unfolding before his eyes. Because why would you be trying to get him to stop protecting you? It must be because you’re guilty, in one way or another.

I will not lie to you, he gets so nasty and mean when he’s like this. Name calling, being purposefully harsh just to spite you, before he inevitably disappears without warning for a few hours to try and cool off.

(He is a walking tornado when he’s like this btw. If something gets close to him, it’s getting butchered). So, it’s a good thing he knows to distance himself.

But, you suppose you can’t really blame him. Every thing else that he’s ever loved was ripped up from under his feet, right before his eyes.

Needless to say, he needs constant reassurance.

You could never say ‘I love you’ too many times to him. Every single time it feels like a blessing. Like it’s the first time all over again.

His love languages are words of affirmation, gift giving and physical touch.

Big emphasis on the latter. He needs to be touching you like all the time.

A hand tucked into your back pocket as you stand beside him, playing with your hair as you rest your head on his lap. Arms circled around your waist as you prepare dinner, shuffling around the kitchen behind you as he nibbles at your neck softly.

Did I mention he likes to bite? Because he does. A lot.

A lot of the time, it isn’t even of sexual nature, he’s just got an oral fixation. If you weren’t around, he’d be biting his nails to the bone, or chewing on the strings of his hoodie.

But he does have you! So you’re getting nibbled on instead <3

Lazily dragging his teeth against your shoulder blades as you lay in bed cuddling together. Nibbling on your thumbs and fingers absentmindedly as you watch a movie together. Sneaking up behind you just to catch the meat of your neck between his teeth, biting hard enough to leave indentations behind before he just goes about his day as if nothing happened.

It doesn’t help that you taste so good - but we’ll get into that later.

His other love language - gift giving - is just as prominent.

In my general headcanons for him, I mentioned that Toby likes to search the forest for pretty things when he’s out and about. If he’s in a relationship, yeah that increases tenfold.

He’s like a fucking crow. Constantly bringing home shiny rocks and cool bones he came across. Wildflowers too, which he’ll haphazardly tie into a makeshift bouquet before giving to you.

If any of his victims are wearing jewelry - yeah, that’s getting snatched. It’s not like they need it now, and it would definitely look better on his baby anyway.

(You’ve learned to stop asking where they’re coming from).

He pampers and dotes on you to an almost annoying degree btw. But as I mentioned before, he’s pretty much convinced you’re a deity, so that’s what you deserve.

He loves to take care of you. It makes him feel like he’s deserving of your presence. (Though, he really doesn’t need to prove himself to you, but it’s a whole mental thing you won’t be able to talk him out of).

He will literally learn skills just to make your life easier. Gets better at hunting so that you don’t have to worry about where to find food. Figures out how to skin and butcher animals so that you don’t have to deal with the gore. Will build furniture for you if you mention you want something once. (“It’d be nice to have a swing in the back for the summer.” Boom. You’ve got one the next day.)

He’ll wash your hair, sew up your clothes, wake up early just so that you have a cup of coffee before your eyes even flutter open.

Because, again, that’s what you deserve.

I will mention this again he is SOOOOOO clingy! He’ll come home from a mission and immediately be seeking you out, pulling you into an embrace before even washing the blood from his skin.

Very outdoorsy too, so expect lots of long nature walks and picnics.

Memories intact! [NSFW]

Remember how I said he thinks you taste good?

Good fucking luck because when you guys are getting down and dirty, it’s gonna feel like he’s trying to literally consume you.

He will sink his teeth into wherever he can find purchase. Your neck, shoulders, thighs, chest, ass - nothing is spared. You’re gonna look like you got attacked by a wolf when it’s all over.

And his possessiveness definitely plays a part.

He wants you covered in his marks. Wants people to know you’re his with just one glance at you.

He’ll bite hard enough to bruise, hard enough to bleed - and then he’ll suck at the wound to draw more out. Loving the taste of your blood on his tongue, but also needing the mark he leaves behind to be as dark as possible.

Honestly, I’m gonna be fr, he’d probably carve his initials into your thigh if you’d let him.

Gotta let everyone know who you belong to!

You, will never forget that fact. Because in bed, it seems like his main mission is to drill that idea into your brain.

He’ll usually start out gentle, but that never lasts long. He’ll have you sobbing by the time it’s all over. Fucking as many orgasms out of you as you can take.

And that man’s got stamina. So, good luck trying not to pass out.

He can’t feel the pain and soreness of his muscles, so it doesn’t matter to him. He’ll keep going until he’s shooting blanks LMAO

And he’s… well endowed. So you’re gonna be feeling it for a few days after.

I’m gonna give him a solid 6.5 inches. Not too girthy, but enough for you to really feel the stretch.

I don’t make the rules. He’s a dorky, scrawny white boy, alright? I have quite literally never been with one that wasn’t packing 🫡

Pleasure is like, the one intense sensation he can feel, so he’s pretty hypersexual tbh. It’s the only thing that breaks through the numbness he’s always drowning in.

I personally believe Toby’s not a snivelling virgin, but anyone else he’s been with before you simply do not exist to him the moment you first bare it all for him.

You practically rewrote his brain, and now he’s convinced that everyone else on earth pales in comparison. And he’s obsessive about it.

He’s almost always horny over you LMAOOO his libido is off the charts.

But it’s not his fault!! You’re just so pretty! You literally don’t even have to do anything. He’ll pop a boner just from watching you brush your hair.

(Before you guys officially started dating, he jacked off to the thought of you more times than he will ever admit. Jacked off to pictures of you even more often).

And, he’s not too well versed in self-control, so the moment he gets the urge - expect to be practically pounced on.

Does not matter where you are. Bedroom, kitchen, in the woods, in an alley, shoved into a gas station bathroom. He doesn’t care. Let someone walk in on you, let them alllll know who’s fucking you good.

He’s a bit of an exhibitionist if I will be honest, and it’s partially motivated by his need to let everyone know that you’re his. The type to try and convince you to cockwarm him while you’re sitting in the corner of a room full of people.

I have mentioned this many times on my blog, Toby is a grade A fucking munch. The man loves to eat pussy. I would argue it’s his favourite pastime.

He will spend literal hours down there if you let him. Moaning into you as he claws at your hips with blunt fingernails, nipping and biting at your thighs between licks.

He will cum untouched. He is crazy sensitive and just the taste of you will get him so hard it will definitely end with him dirtying his boxers.

But just as much as that, he loves it when you go down on him too.

He’s a bit of a sadist (which I will touch on in a moment), so he loves to watch you struggle and choke to take him all. Loves how you whimper around him and your eyebrows furrow. He loves the sight of your pretty tears like most.

So much, that he’ll lick them off your cheeks.

Also, German dirty talk! He almost always slips into his mother tongue when he’s deep in it.

“So eine gute kleine Schlampe.”

“Hübsches Lamm, ich weiß, du kannst mehr ertragen.”

Speaking of talk, dude is fucking NOISY. He’s always gotta be saying something.

Mindless babble about how good you feel between strained grunts and groans. Drool smearing against your neck as he moans about how much he loves you, how he’s so lucky to have you, how he can’t believe that you’re his.

“Du gehörst mir, Baby. Vergiss das nie.”

“Mein Mädchen. Mein Ein und Alles.”

The only way he’s quiet is if he’s got a face full of pussy tbh.

But don’t forget to praise him too! I already told you he needs affirmation on a daily basis this definitely carries into the bedroom.

Tell him how good he makes you feel, how full he gets you, and he will fucking fold.

(Don’t be afraid to call him a good boy either. He’ll get so flustered and blush so pretty).

Oh, and he’s got a breeding kink.

Not like.. Seriously, because he’s well aware that being a father isn’t in his cards.

But the idea of knocking you up makes him downright feral.

That’s like, the ultimate claim. It’s the dream, for someone as sickeningly possessive as him.

(And he’d bet you’d look even more beautiful pregnant).

So if you’re on the pill, expect endless creampies.

And if you’re not, expect him to act like a big baby about it.

It’s just not as satisfying to cum on you, it should be in you. That’s where it belongs.

Either way, he’s not wearing a condom. The type to call it ‘restrictive’ or ‘suffocating’. His pull out game is strong though, luckily.

(Though, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t often think about just cumming inside you and dealing with the consequences later. He’s selfish like that. But he’d never actually do it.)

It’s alright though. Just let him cum down your throat and that’ll placate him a little.

Okay, let’s get into the nitty gritty. He is a sadist 100% no and ifs or buts about it. He can’t feel pain himself, so he is so morbidly fascinated with how people react to it. Especially you. You just look so lovely when your face is scrunched up in agony, pretty tears flowing down your cheeks.

He’d never hurt you bad enough to be worrisome, but he will draw blood and leave bruises. He will test you, to see just how much you can take.

And I don’t know if I can call him a masochist, because again - he can’t feel it - BUT he LOVES IT when you get rough with him too.

Claw at his back until the skin tears. Tug at his hair hard enough to make his scalp throb. Bite him, and draw some blood in return. Really makes him feel wanted and desired.

He is the absolute king of aftercare though, despite his roughness.

Will run you a bath and carry you to it. Wash you clean of all the blood and grime smeared across your skin. You can even fall asleep if you want, he’ll tend to you with the utmost care before drying you off and carrying you back to bed.

And when you wake up, he’s right there next to you with a glass of water and painkillers in hand.

oh toby,,, my dear boyfailure,, at the end of the day his toxic traits all boil down to being scared to lose you.

but! if he lost his memories…

Memories wiped! [SFW]

Baby… good fucking luck.

You will literally be competing for attention with an eldritch entity so… I hope you’ve got strong willpower and determination.

Toby is Slender’s golden boy, and for good reason. He’s a 6’1, absolute tank of a man who can’t feel pain. His endurance is whacked, his dedication and devotion rivals that of the looniest heretic, and he’s damn good at his job. You could break his jaw and claw his eyes out and you will still lose.

(In this scenario, you would have to be a fellow proxy. If not, the only relationship you’re getting with Toby is being one of his victims. This man’s brain is so rotted you may as well be trying to seduce a fucking rock.)

So, with the first big change from before; you will have to be the one perusing him. The Toby from the first scenario would be pining over you pathetically. This one? He could not give a rats ass about starting any form of relationship. It’s just a distraction from his purpose.

And I’m so sorry, but you will be making a fool out of yourself for a least a couple months before he caves. He will not reciprocate your flirting at all before you wriggle under his skin, and if anything he’ll just view you as a fucking nuisance.

He has half the mind to not complain about you to Slender and get you tortured into submission.

But, he doesn’t. Maybe from lingering remnants of the compassion he had lost, or maybe because he knows you’re not technically doing anything wrong.

As long as you’re both getting your job’s done, you can make goo goo eyes at him all you want. Doesn’t matter to him.

Until it doessssss <3

It is a very slow process, and he is so not on board. If you thought he was snippy with you before, the moment feelings start to fester within him he is INSUFFERABLE. So mean for no fucking reason. Avoiding you at all costs if he can help it.

(such a tsundere <3)

No, it’s actually because he’s trying to get you to hate him so that he can finally get the distance he so clearly needs from you. He can’t afford to put his energy into romance. He’s more of a pawn than a man, it just feels… Wrong.

But, you know what they say! The heart wants what it wants! (Even if his brain is wholeheartedly trying to fight it).

He’d indulge himself in small doses. Snapping pictures of you when you aren’t looking, sneaking into your room to steal pieces of your clothing for the scent (we will touch on this more later).

And he hates it, because it is never enough to placate him. He’s always left yearning for more with fantasies of you flashing behind his eyes - and it is agonizing to deal with.

But at the same time, he doesn’t want it to stop, because it makes him feel… Almost nostalgic for a life he can’t even remember. A time when he could, and would form relationships with people. A time when there was more to life, than just - wake up, slaughter, sleep, repeat.

So, his willpower eventually wanes, and you notice it immediately.

He’s no longer mean for no reason. Only when you’re reckless and get yourself hurt, or if another proxy is picking on you. And he’ll constantly manage to wriggle his way onto whatever mission you’re going on.

He becomes a guard dog basically. And people will notice, because he is not subtle. He will flash his hatchets if someone looks at you wrong.

Again though, this will move SLOWWWW. The hating you phase will last months. The bodyguard phase will also last months. I hope you like slow burn because you guys will probably not kiss until over a year into knowing each other.

And when you do, it’s because he just can’t take it anymore. His imagination isn’t cutting it. It feels like you’ve infected him, and the longer he abstains, the worse his gut wrenching longing becomes.

So, on a mission together after finishing off your kill, he’ll pull you to the side and draw you in close.

He’ll search your face with manic eyes, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, thoughts pinging around in his brain at a mile a minute. And then, he’ll finally cave and press his lips to yours - right above the corpse you had just slain. How romantic <3

From there, I hope you don’t have second thoughts, because you’re in it for the long haul now. He will not be letting you go. He basically rewrote his entire mind for you, it would be cruel to back out now.

You thought the Toby I talked about before was obsessive? AHAHAHAHA

This man’s entire life revolves around two things; Slender and you, and he’s just as devoted to both.

He will not be leaving your side for even a second at a time if he can help it.

Except for when he wakes up from a random blackout and finds himself alone in the middle of nowhere. Which used to just be another day in the biz, but with you in the equation? He is panicking the moment he realizes you’re not next to him.

He is constantly worrying about, or thinking about you. And if he has to go on a mission away from you? He’ll act like the world is ending.

He won’t be leaving without a few articles of your clothing, and maybe (definitely) a few pictures.

He does get in trouble quite a few times, because he’ll start to get sloppy. Rushing through missions without a lack of care, just so that he can get home to you faster.

And you’ll take some of the fall too. Slender’s not stupid, and he’ll be well aware of why his once efficient killing machine has become lacklustre at best. Expect frequent bouts of Slender sickness throughout the duration of your relationship - just getting more and more intense with each iteration. As I said, I hope you’ve got a lot of willpower! Because you will be thrown through the wringer if you want to stay with him.

Toby will notice this though. It’s hard not to, either how you’re constantly nauseous, bleeding, and in a state of crippling paranoia, so he’ll force himself to be better - if only for your sake.

Surprisingly, this Toby is not as jealous or possessive. He doesn’t remember the pain of losing his loved ones, and with how much effort you put into courting him - he’s not scared that you’re going to leave him.

You would never, if you knew what’s good for you :)

As I said before - Jealous? no. Obsessive and protective? Uh huh.

He will kill anything that even thinks about hurting you. And if he can’t kill them (because of immortality or whatever), he’ll make them wish they were dead. It’s not torture if it’s justified, right?

Also, you’ll have to be patient with him. He’s not at all accustomed to this whole… Caring for other people thing. So he can’t really help how intensely he feels for you. Remember your first love? Yeah, it’s that. Plus a whole bucketload of hysteria.

He will take it as a personal attack if you want alone time. He wants to be with you all the time, so why wouldn’t you want that with him? You’re the one who sought him out.

He will be using that as a way to deflect any blame away from his toxic behaviour, btw. You lured him in. You wanted this. You’ll have to reap the consequences.

And despite how much he may want to be good for you, you really can’t ask much from a man who’s been trained to be as apathetic as humanly possible.

He’s got the attitude problems of a snot-nosed teenage boy. He will call you a bitch just for asking him to maybe change out of his bloody clothes before sitting on the couch. He will call you a nag, and stupid, and whatever nasty word comes to mind at the time. He’s horrible tbh. Gets real nasty if he’s in a mood.

And to be honest, he’s in a mood quite often, because he’s pretty prone to pushing himself until he’s near delirious from exhaustion.

And it sucks, but his conditioned mind just does not feel sympathy. You could be screaming your lungs out at him, practically pulling your hair out with tears streaming down your face, and all you’ll get in response is his default look of apathy.

Because to him, it’s not that deep. It’s not like he’s trying to fucking kill you. All he did was belittle and make a joke out of every single issue you’re having with him.

He’s actually the worst I’m sorry. But that’s what he’s supposed to be. He wasn’t programmed to partake in a cushy, loving relationship.

That doesn’t mean actually he hates you though, or means any of the fucked up shit he says, he’s entire view of love is just warped as hell. He’s pretty much convinced you being with him is just a given.

You guys will obviously fight a lot. Verbally and physically. It is a common sight for other proxies to see you and Toby brawling in the middle of the grass for the third time that week.

But when you guys are good, you’re really fucking good. You’re his glimpse into what life could be, and though he’s not the best at showing it, he really does love you for it.

So much that he’ll gift you a still beating heart on Valentine’s Day, along with a bouquet of wildflowers. Aw <3

Dates with him include: hunting together, axe throwing competitions(he always wins, obviously), long nature walks, going on missions together, scary movie nights where you both laugh at how unrealistic the gore is.

And because you are literally the first close relationship he’s ever had (or that he can remember) expect him to be making the most of it.

Touching and kissing you whenever he can. Even if there’s people around. He’s the king of PDA he does not give a fuck.

He likes it when you wear his clothes (especially his goggles… maybe a little too much) because it makes you look… His. And it’s weird, knowing that you are. That you’ve chosen to be around him, and he does revel in that fact every single day - even if he does kinda suck.

And over time, you will mellow him out, just like how you did in the beginning. He will never be a cushy soft, lovesick puppy, but he will eventually come to realize that maybe he shouldn’t be so much of an asshole to the woman who sticks by his side through it all.

And it’ll only go up from there!

Memories wiped! [SFW]

Okay, this Toby is a raging virgin. He was a heavily bullied outcast before becoming a mindless slave to Slender. He did not have time, nor care for any of that shit.

And it shows. At first, he’s so uncoordinated and messy. Too much tongue in his kisses, can’t find the clit to save his life - it’s… A mess. But what he lacks in experience he will make up for with enthusiasm.

He’s been fucking his own hand for way too long man, never once thinking about the fact that there could definitely be so much better out there.

So, he’s practically buzzing with excitement the first time you guys have sex. He’ll be twitching like a madman, tics going into overdrive as absolute elation and desire courses through his veins.

You will have to verbally tell him to slow down multiple times, because he’ll be like a freight train just trying to get to the good part. Practically tearing your clothes off, trying to just trying to shove his cock into you without an ounce of prep.

This man has been so isolated he didn’t even watch porn before meeting you, he has NO clue what to do with no reference point to go off of. All he’s got for sexual experience is the few Playboy mags he snagged from a house he broke into.

You’ll have to teach him <3

Be patient, and go easy on the teasing - his ego is very easily bruised.

And he will be busting quick. Absolute two pump chump. But he will get better with time, obviously. It’s just the first time he sinks into your heat it’s the most indescribable pleasure. Absolute heaven. Easily the best thing he’s felt in his entire life, so you can’t really blame him for the way he’s gasping and moaning against your neck after only a few strokes.

He’s got stamina though, so he won’t be quitting after that don’t you worry. He’ll go for as long as it takes to figure out how to make you cum too.

Lucky for you, he’s a quick learner if you guide him, and he’ll mentally bookmark everything that makes you moan louder or twitch beneath him.

Once the first time is out of the way, he’s just as horny (if not more) as his memory having counterpart.

Because you’re telling him that was what he was missing out on??? Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell him??

Gotta make up for lost time! First few weeks of you properly dating will be marathon sex for days on end. He just can’t get enough of you. Never wants to get enough of you. Wants to try anything and everything, learning as he goes what he likes the best.

And what he likes the best, is being a subby little baby.

I KID but for real though, the kicker here is that this Toby would be way more of a sub than the other one I talked about.

All he does, all the time, is put on a strong face and work himself to the bone. It feels nice, to just shut his brain off and let you take the ropes for the most part.

And taking orders from you, feels so much better. Because they’re not things he has to do, they’re things he wants to do.

He loves when you’re on top, holding his chest down with one hand as you set the pace.

Loves to eat you out, loves it even more when you sit on his face.

Remember how I said you guys will fight a lot? Now is the time to get your frustrations out on him.

You can be mean, and he’ll just take it. Cockwarm him and refuse to move, swat his hands away when he tries to grab at your hips and force you to. Edge him. Make him cum untouched as you ride his tongue. Grind against his cock until he’s pleading you to just please let him inside you.

Knock him down a peg, he sure as hell needs it.

Outside of the bedroom, he’ll never admit how much he likes it, but you know. That pretty blush of his doesn’t lie, and if he really wanted to overpower you he definitely could.

He’s messy. Drooling, leaking tears when it gets to be almost too much.

And he’s loud. Like, not a fucking care in the world if someone might hear you. You’d have to literally gag him if you want him to quiet down.

(Which, he would also probably like).

Loves it when you mark him up, but you’ve got to get some in return too - matching hickeys so that everyone knows you’re together.

Like in the first part, sometimes you’ll wonder if he’s trying to literally consume you with how often he’s sinking his teeth into you - but the difference is, this time, he’s actually thinking about it.

He’s got cannibalistic tendencies on a day to day basis, so when his brain is all fogged up but lust and desire they just become worse.

He will bite too hard. Locking his jaw onto the muscles of your shoulder as he thinks about tearing away and pulling your flesh from bone.

He won’t… But he will come close.

Also, before you guys got together, remember how I said he’d steal pieces of your clothing? Yeah, it’s mostly panties. Used ones, if he’s lucky (he’s so nasty).

He’d have his nose buried in one pair while using another one to stroke his cock.

This is something that he will still do even after you start dating, especially if either of you are away on a mission for an extended period of time.

Only now he’ll actually return them to you - a smirk on his face as he slips the freshly stained garments back into your underwear drawer, hoping that maybe one morning you’ll slip them on without noticing.

okay! that’s all I have to say (finally). so…. pick your poison!

-

holy fucking shit I meant for this to just be a nice, easy to put together hc list that I could post while working on a full length fic.

nope. this took me half a week because I just kept going and going

sigh.

[omegaweiss01]

(MavuiTano Romantasy AU)

Mavuika was nervous.

She hadn't been truthful the entire time they were together, and honestly, it was ironic that the legendary Dragon Slayer, Thrain, even entered a relationship with her to begin with. Mavuika was a Dragonborn: specifically a wyrm who took the form of a human woman simply because she fell in love with a human man. Now, several months into their relationship, she worried that coming clean would ruin everything.

It took a lot to muster up the courage to confront him about it, and she hated interrupting his training, but it had to be said; otherwise, she felt she would only continue to live a lie. However, upon seeing him spar with a fellow soldier, she couldn’t help but watch him, captivated by the swift, fluid movements he made with each swing of his sword. They were calculated, precise; unbeknownst to the soldier he was sparring with, Thrain was also honing his skills with ice magic as well. Mavuika could see the frost form briefly on his and his opponent's blades, but it melted away just as quickly as it formed.

Mavuika gulped. It was no wonder Thrain took down the evil Death Tyrant, Ronova in one fell swoop.

Thrain disarmed his opponent and knocked him to the ground, aiming his sword at his sparring partner's throat. "Disappointing. You're much more capable than that," he scolded, relinquishing his blade and sheathing it. He held a hand out and helped his opponent up, who looked dejected that they had disappointed their beloved Commander so badly. Thrain then offered him a few kinder words to cheer him up and sent him on his way.

Thrain noticed Mavuika standing there, a worried look on her face. Without any explanation to his men, he went to her, a sense of anxiety bubbling in his gut. "Is everything alright?" He asked.

Mavuika gazed up at him. "Oh, no...everything is fine but..." she sighed, averting her gaze. "Can I...talk to you in private?"

Thrain turned to glance back at his men and silently signal to them that he'd be back. They gave him a collective nod and he turned back around to quietly guide Mavuika back through the stony castle walls. He kept a stoic expression, but deep down, he was worried for many things. Had Mavuika finally figured out his identity as the legendary Dragon Slayer? Did she want to call off everything because of it? And, if it really was that, would she be angry with him enough to send a legion of dragons to slaughter him and his people? He couldn’t defend his people against an entire legion. Ronova was just one dragon, after all, and he killed her in her lair.

The two finally reached a garden on the far end of the castle walls, far from the ears of any nosy maids or soldiers. Thrain took Mavuika's hand. "What ails you?" He asked softly.

Mavuika swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "So...um...would..would you still love me if I were a wyrm?"

Thrain raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, confused. Mavuika blushed, embarrassed. "N-not like an earthworm! I mean...the type of dragon. A wyrm. Because I...I am one...."

It had dawned on him, at that very moment, that Mavuika knew all along that he was the legendary slayer of her kin, and yet...

He laughed.

"Oh, my dear, I swear I'm not laughing at you. I've known this all along. Is this what had you worried?" He inquired.

His hold on her hand did not falter. Mavuika noted this and nodded silently. Thrain embraced her, still chuckling heartily. "Of course. As I said before, I've known your draconic origins all along, so the answer you seek is a resounding yes."

Mavuika finally embraced him back, feeling the weight lift off her shoulders. But then, the thought occurred to her: how did he know? She pulled away briefly. "I thought my form was flawless," she murmured.

Thrain kissed her. "Being subtle isn't your strong suit, dear," he whispered softly.

Mavuika huffed. "What's that supposed to mean?" She questioned, sounding slightly offended.

Thrain couldn't help but be amused by her reaction. "When you trusted me enough to take me to your home, it occurred to me then when I saw your cave full of riches beyond mortal comprehension that you were a dragon. But then, the idea was solidified when you cursed at a thief on the street in Dragontongue-"

Mavuika pulled away and waved her hands, embarrassed even further. "Okay, okay, I get it!" She was blushing, her face nearly as crimson as her long, wavy hair.

Thrain never once let go of her hand. He brought it up his face and kissed it gently. Mavuika smiled, elated that the air had been cleared between them; that he was willing to accept her for who-and what-she is.

But then his next question made her smile falter.

"How did you know I was the legendary Dragon Slayer?"

Mavuika pulled her hand away, averting her gaze. "I was there when you slayed Ronova. She um...she was going to eat me right when you came along...she and I had a bet, and I lost. The price was my life," she explained. "Wyrms are often the prey to dragons, as they're the bigger and more intelligent ones of all of dragonkind. That said, I lost...but you saved me."

Thrain cupped her face in his hands. There was obvious discomfort in her eyes. Mavuika met his gaze. "You were injured though. Ronova almost killed you."

Thrain remembered that night vividly. Ronova had terrorized his people for eons until he had honed his skills enough to track her down and slay her. She was the strongest opponent he had ever faced, and despite being wounded badly, he still managed to deliver the finishing blow. He hardly noticed the smaller, wingless wyrm huddled in a dark corner of the cave. He always wondered how he survived that night. "You saved me, didn't you?" His question was more of a confirmation, as he had just realized it himself.

Mavuika nodded. "I was scared of you, but I couldn't exactly let you die, either, so I assumed the form you see now and uh...bit you. My fangs injection venom," she pulled her lips back to show him her slightly elongated fangs. "But the venom I injected also has healing properties if I allow it. I learned that night that the ice magic in your body really does not like wyrm venom."

Thrain touched his neck, where he had a barely visible bite scar. "Ronova's claws cut deep; I bled out pretty quickly. I vaguely remember being in pain...but then, nothing. I awoke sometime later in the village down the mountain," he sighed, his gaze shifting toward her. "They said my wounds had been healing for several days by the time I was brought in."

"Three days and nights. You were running a horrendous fever from the reaction between your ice magic and my venom, and for a while you were thrashing about in agony too. I had no idea how to ease your suffering, and even contemplated putting you out of your misery, but...I suppose, I just wanted to even the score, but then you were all I was ever thinking about after, so..."

Thrain nodded. "You had been following me for quite some time before I finally decided to invite you to walk with me," he added, as if remembering that very moment fondly. "How awkward you were. It was...cute."

Mavuika waved her hands, embarrassed once more. "I'm far from cute in my dragon form!"

Thrain hugged her once more, kissing her forehead. "Love, I think I would find any form you took cute, be you earthworm or not," he assured. Mavuika buried her face in his chest, hiding her embarrassment. "You're the cute one..." she argued quietly.

He chuckled. "I love you," he murmured in her ear.

Mavuika inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. She exhaled slowly, lifting her gaze to meet his once more. "I love you too," she murmured back.

In the next moment, they shared a kiss that felt very different from the others. It held more passion, more promise; like a silent pledge to one another for the rest of eternity. Dragons and humans mingling was taboo in some areas of the world, but neither cared at this point. To Mavuika, Thrain was her fated mate, and Dragonborn only ever mate with one other being for the rest of their long lives. She acknowledged his humanity, his mortality, and with her kiss, she pledged to die alongside him should he go before her.

Thrain, the mighty, legendary Dragon Slayer, Duke of a small patch of territory at the base of The Great Tree of Teyvat, pledged to love this woman for the rest of his days. He would have no other, and he swore to cut down any who dared threaten her. He was certain, however, that he wouldn't need to do much.

Mavuika was a wyrm, after all.

(God, I'm so sorry if this is horribly written. I am not confident in my writing skills at all. But hey...MavuiTano, anyone?)

"Sorry, I didn’t make myself clear. I wasn’t asking ‘Would you still love me if I were a worm?’ What I meant to say is ‘Would you still love me if I were a WYRM.’ ...Because I am." "What?"

[gregheiferly]

LOVEY-DOVEY

first comes love

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. established relationship, hurt to comfort, angst, fluff, leon’s mental problems, future smut, ddlg

note. the first of hopefully 3 chapters?!! i have lost the ability to write im ngl,,, i promised this fic over a year ago and never got it out but i forced myself thru it bc it’s been sitting around like unfinished for a year LMFAO so it’s clunky.. doesn’t make sense… and also i do want to make clear this isn’t supposed to be a baby and marriage = happy marriage sort of fic i just see that ending for this couple in particular.. anyway ignore typos,, ignore any mistakes and pretend it makes sense. feedback / rbs always appreciated!

i would also appreciate if you read this post about plagiarism by a user on both tumblr and ao3

lovey dovey

“I used to hear Hola! and jump—Oh, gosh, I’m not racist or anything, I voted—“ Ashley adjusts her monogrammed scarf, looking at him with her new face. It’s the same, but different. Tighter, brighter, when her eyes widen her brows don’t raise and when she pouts her chin doesn’t dimple. 

“Ashley.” Leon interrupts to get her back on track before it gets any worse. 

D.C. does its best to dampen his mood, torrential rain soaking him to the bone, but you’re wearing these tiny winter booties that make his day a little better. 

“I just bet, I mean I know Leon never tells you anything about Spain, or anything at all.” She waves her hands in a flourish, not a hair out of place. “I signed an NDA, I don’t know how long they last, but I’m sure it must be over by now, I don’t really believe in them to be honest–What is a piece of paper going to do? I mean, it’s not like the piece of paper knows who I’m telling.” 

“She’s too little to know,” Leon says out of instinct. He takes the role of Daddy very seriously these days. 

“Leon.“ You frown at him, it’s so cute he’ll think about it for hours. 

“Sorry.” Is all he can come up with. 

“Anyways, I wanted to ask about plans,” Ashley says, the exchange going unheard by her. 

(If she’s not talking she doesn’t really seem to care about the conversation at hand.)

“Plans?” Leon doesn’t follow, and neither do you.

“Oh, you know.” She dabs at the corner of her lip with a handkerchief that matches her scarf, her lipstick leaves a pink smear on the edge of her cup. It’s heart-shaped. Fucking Cupid over here. “Haven’t you ever thought about babies, Leon? You’re pretty old now.” 

That’s not her card to play. Shouldn’t he be asking her about babies? She’s only getting older, not many eggs left in her basket. But, y’know, that’s not very PC, and Leon really isn’t that bad. He’d like nothing more than for her to move at her own pace - it was hard enough seeing Sherry grow up, passing her off to a guy nearly ten years younger than her—And Leon is in no place to talk about age gaps, but guys are immature and stupid, he would know.

“Ashley,” he interrupts once more, though he has nothing to say at all. Marriage. Babies. Jesus Christ, you are the baby. He’s got jackets older than you. 

“We haven’t thought about it—I mean, I ask him about it sometimes, but nothing serious,” you tell her honestly, the corners of your mouth drooping downwards in a frown.

You are one unhappy little girl and he is in for one hell of a ride back home. 

“I never make plans that far ahead,” he says, rehearsed, before your soured mood runs off the edges of your face and into the rest of the room. Distemper in a dogfighting ring. 

“Hm.” You make a noise beside him, knee bumping his under the table. It’s a touchy subject. An untouchable subject, actually, because he refuses to sit down and talk about it, he shuts it down immediately. You can’t make babies with a baby, that’s just plain wrong. 

(But you can fuck said baby every which way. You can spit in the baby’s mouth and spank her raw. That’s perfectly normal.) 

“The next time I see you, Leon, it better be at your wedding,” Ashley warns him, a burnt orange blazer draped over her slender shoulders as she primps herself up enough to face a camera or two. “I’m happy to help with, well, with everything, I have a lot of time and money to waste so don’t think you’re bothering me. Oh and another thing—Leon?”

“Yeah?” He shifts from foot to foot, the arm circling your waist drops to his side limply. 

“You can call me anytime, you know that, right?” She stares at him, right through him with her big brown eyes. “And you know I can see when you’ve read my texts, right?” 

Leon nods stiffly, he stands there like a fucking scarecrow when she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I know,” he mumbles into perfumed hair. 

When you ask him, “Why didn’t you hug her back?”

He tells you, “I didn’t want to make you jealous.”

“I don’t get jealous.” That’s right. You’re a very self-assured little girl with your head screwed on right, he can’t go around telling such obvious lies. 

“Dunno, just felt weird,” Leon admits, plucking the fuzz off your sweater to keep his hands busy, “haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“That’s your fault.” You walk ahead and he knows you’re pissed. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

The air crackles with tension, heavy enough to shift the layout of Leon’s home a little to the left—Or maybe you really have gone and done that without telling him, taking over his world with parts of your own - it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. That’s got to be some form of gaslighting. He can’t even see the TV from this angle. 

“Baby?” Leon calls out.

You poke your head out of the kitchen. 

“Did you move my chair to the left or am I losing it?” He shifts in his seat, moves from left to right, leans back to try and understand what has gone on. 

“You’re losing it, I moved it to the right.” You wipe your wet hands on your skirt, it borders on frumpy, makes your hips look even wider. He pretends that he hasn’t ever thought about knocking you up. 

“Why, baby?” You’re testing his patience, being short with him, huffing and puffing and sticking your nose in the air.

“Because it looks better, but I can’t do it when you’re home ‘cause you never get up.” Carefully, you edge towards him, skirting around the room until you find yourself in daddy’s lap. 

The weight is grounding, his hands find your hips in no time, fingers dimpling the fat as he squeezes down to ease whatever is going on inside of him. “You can’t stay mad at me, baby.”

“Yes I can.” 

“Who’s gonna take care of you then, hm?” Leon asks, sliding his cold hands under shirt to grope your heavy tits. He pretends that he hasn’t thought about running his fingers over your lace bra to find milky wet patches. That he hasn’t thought about you, glassy-eyed and in desperate need of daddy’s help, pushing your leaky tits against his chest and begging him, pleading with him to take on the role of dairy farmer for the day.  

“I can take care of myself.” You shrug. So cold, so cute. “But you, daddy.” You kiss his nose. “Without me, you can’t even remember to take your meds.” 

That’s right. You did well without him. You didn’t need a daddy until you found the right daddy. You wanted a daddy so dearly, but you can take care of yourself just fine. You can pour your own juice and you can tie your laces and fix your hair just fine, it’s just better when daddy does it for you. 

“True,” Leon mumbles, he kneads your breasts contemplatively,  “but it’s good to ask daddy for things, I don’t want you getting hurt doing it on your own.” 

“I have bandaids.” Comes your rebuttal. 

“Baby, you’re being mean.” Leon’s voice verges on a whine. 

“I’m not being mean, Leon.” You let yourself melt into him, fat tits spilling through the gaps in his fingers. His hands are small and there’s too much of you to contain. “Why don’t you want to marry me?” 

That’s a loaded question. One he can’t quite answer because there’s no real answer and he doesn’t really want to answer it.

“You’re too good for me.” 

“Oh my goood,” you groan, rolling your eyes so hard you age backwards, and it really makes you look like a teenager—A little girl—It makes him feel like your father. Not your daddy, but your father. And hell, he’s old enough to play the part. 

“What?” 

“It turns me off when you say shit like that, like ohhh I’m such a old loser, I can’t even get it up, baby, why are you even with me?” You do your best Leon impression, it almost makes him smile. “You literally want everyone to feel bad for you all the time, and you know what, Leon?”

���What?” Leon says again. He’s feeling parched. Lightheaded. Sick. Psychotic. Bad. Just fucking bad. Everything gets so bad when you’re not smiling at him.

“I can’t feel bad for you if you don’t tell me what’s going on—You don’t tell anyone what’s going on so nobody feels bad for you.” You stand up, his hands are left cold and empty. “Only you feel bad for yourself, you literally sit around all day drinking and feeling shitty about sitting around and drinking—You don’t even want to do anything anymore, you didn’t even want to see Ashley today! She loves you so much, she’s your friend and you can’t even text her back because, because… Well, I don’t even know!”

“Baby—“

“You don’t go to therapy and you forget to take your meds, and, and I have to remind you all the time and—“ You take a breath, your lips moving soundlessly as you count to ten. “I don’t mind doing that for you, I like taking care of you and I like when you take care of me—It makes me happy that you let me y’know do that…” You gesture to a stray pacifier on the coffee table. “And I love you, Leon, but it’s just like you never want to fix anything, you just want to stay like this and I don’t want that, Leon—“

“Babe–“

”I told you that I wanted to get married, I told you that it would be a problem for me if you didn’t want kids, Leon—I don’t want to be with you if you don’t want that with me, I told you that before we got serious and you said yes and now—“ You throw your hands in the air, cutting yourself off with a half-aborted sob and splitting his heart right down the middle.

“It’s not like that, baby,” Leon starts gently, pushing up out of his armchair so he can hold you like you need to be held, “I didn’t… It’s not you, you know that don’t you? You’re perfect, you’re a good girl, it’s just…”

“What?” You press your face into his chest, searching for comfort as you run your hands over his back. “It’s what?”

“It’s me.” 

“Oh my god, Leon.” Your voice breaks, and you look up at him. For a minute it’s like you’re in soft-focus, like you’re a love letter gone yellow with time, sepia-stained and unspeakably tender and—and the reel is burning away because you’re too beautiful to last forever. You’re the most fragile little package, stamped to handle with care and he’s tossed you onto someone's lawn and you’re going to be plucked away by a porch pirate and—God, he’s such a fuck-up. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

Might be cliche, but it’s true. It’s him, not you. It’s always him. It’s why he’s been alone for so long. It’s not work, it’s not what happened in Spain or Talk Oaks, not even Raccoon City—Not mom, not dad, not Ada or Jack or Ashley or the fucking President, it’s not some grand, tragic circumstance—It’s just him. 

“If I marry you…” Leon’s mouth dries up while he flicks through a mental Rolodex of excuses. 

I drink too much. I’m depressed and probably bipolar. I’m infertile. You’re a baby, I can’t have babies with a baby. You’re too young. I’m too old. Especially for kids. I look like I could be your dad. I’m suicidal and needy and if we have kids what if you like them more than me? I work a lot. What if I put our kids in danger? What if I put you in danger? What if I’m a shit dad? What if you stop liking me after we tie the knot? You’re so young, you have your whole life ahead of you and you want to marry an old man? You should leave me for someone younger. Please don’t leave me. 

All of it is true, although none of it is an honest answer to your question—The answer is quite simple really—Leon won’t marry you because he refuses to be happy. 

“If I marry you,” he says again, eyes flickering from your eyes to your pout, “what will Sherry think?” 

Your hands are in tight fists by your sides, bottom

lip trembling as you struggle to remain impassive—And he knows you like the back of his hand, like the veins in his dick—That wrinkled nose could only mean one thing. You’re not about to cry, you’re mad at him. 

“Leon.” Your jaw tightens, grinding your teeth into a fine powder. “You know Sherry isn’t thinking about you, right?”

“How could you say that?” He asks, somewhere between hurt and confused. 

“I’m just… Like, fuck, Leon!” You angle your face away from him, cycling through every stage of grief as you gather your thoughts. “It’s not about what Sherry wants or what she’s thinking or whatever, it’s about what I want and what you want.” 

“But—“

“She isn't a part of our relationship, Leon, nobody is.” You tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling and squeezing your eyes shut. Praying or doing a breathing exercise. “Like… Like you don’t like Jake and she still married him because he makes her happy, Leon—Why don’t you want to be happy with me, Leon?”

“I am happy,” he lies. 

“Don’t lie to me, Leon—Do I not make you happy, is that what it is?” You look at him helplessly and he stands there with nothing to say. 

“You do make me happy,” Leon insists softly, you’re the only thing that makes him happy. Light of his life, apple of his eye, the centre of his whole entire world.

“I just don’t get it anymore, Leon.” 

Oh, god.

“I don’t… I made it clear that I wanted something serious, I want to marry you and I want to have kids with you—I don’t get why you would lead on me like that.” You cross your arms over your chest, bracing for his answer. “Has all of this been for nothing?”

To be entirely frank - Leon is being selfish. 

He’d rather keep you in limbo than let you move on with someone else. He doesn’t want to think about you in bed with someone else, calling someone else daddy, letting them touch you and take care of you—It makes him dizzy, he’s getting jealous of a guy he made up in his fucking head. You’re the only good thing in his piece of shit life and he has no intention of letting you go—He really should, and he probably would if you asked him a year ago, before the D word but now—

Leon feels out of place. 

If he’s not your daddy, then who is he? 

“You’re just… You’re just freaking out ‘cause Ashley put it in your head,” Leon retorts childishly, “we don’t need a baby to be happy.” You’re the only baby he needs to be happy. 

“Are you kidding, Leon?” Your nose is running and you wipe at your face with balled up fists. “Don’t make this about Ashley, you know that isn’t the problem—I really can’t believe you, if you're not serious about me then why are you still with me?”

Truthfully, he didn’t mean for all of this to go so far - then your toothbrush joined his, your Sylvanians found a nice spot on his mantle next to the potpourri, the whole daddy thing happened—

And all of that means that this is not a midlife crisis or a fling or a distraction. 

It means that you’re his girlfriend, the woman he loves.

“I am serious about you.” 

We just want different things, would be the right way to put it. It’s not entirely true, but Leon doesn’t know how to tell you that peace is unrecognisable to him. He doesn’t know what it feels like, it scares him, the finality of marriage and kids and all of these childish dreams he had so long ago—It’s scary, and it takes a lot and Leon could shoulder the whole fucking world if he had to and the whole fucking world is a lot. He’s done it before. Jesus Christ, he’s fought creatures that go beyond the scope of human understanding, but all of it comes to an end. Fights end. Missions get completed. Damsels are saved and monsters are slain and Leon gets home okay as he can be. 

But this… Marriage. There’s no way out—Like, there’s divorce, obviously, but something about marriage is permanent. He can’t shoot a gun and get out of a marital dispute, and he can’t outrun a missed birthday because ultimately he has to come home to you.

Coming home to you sounds good. It is good. It’s the reason he bothers coming home after work instead of bumming around in bars like he used to. But, but, but it’s about trust and working together and while nothing will really change you’ll legally own him and he’ll legally be yours and that’s a lot of responsibility for someone so young to take on and technically you’re already doing all of these responsible things for him and—Marriage is just different, okay?

“I don’t think you are, Leon.” You blink at him slowly, sadly. 

“I am,” Leon insists because he is serious about this. About you. He loves you and he knows that, but he’s fine with what you have now. Girlfriend-Boyfriend. Daddy and baby. “I am, baby, but don’t you think that we're moving into this too fast?”

“It’s been two years, Leon.” Another slow, sad blink, you look off to the side. “I told you I was dating to marry, Leon, I told you what I wanted, I want kids with you—And I’m sorry but you’re not getting any younger, if you’re just wasting my time—“

Something sharp and ugly takes hold of his chest. ”You just think I’m gonna blow my brains out before I give you a baby, that's all you want from me.” That isn’t what Leon wanted to say, but the room is getting too small and that struck a fucking nerve. 

“Excuse me?” 

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A rotten sole-crushed peach, that's all he is, it’s true. And he doesn’t deserve you, but he doubles down selfishly. “You think I’m gonna blow my brains out before I give you a kid,” he repeats, “that’s why you’re freaking out about this now.” Leon’s so very talented at fucking things up. Paperwork, his liver, his entire fucking life. 

“No… That’s not—Are you kidding me? Is that all you got from this, Leon?” You’re looking at him with these accusatory eyes and you’re not calling him daddy or tugging at the back of his shirt for attention. “How could you say that about me? Is that what you think of me?”

Leon would like to say no and he’d like to apologise, instead he fumes silently, teeth clenched so tightly they’ve started to ache. “C’mon, use your big girl words and tell me the truth.” He’s not very tall, but he’s taller than you - he looks down his nose at you. 

“Don’t talk to me like that, Leon.” The shift in his behaviour is new, you’re used to his self-loathing, his laziness and reluctance and his general unlikeability, but this—Leon has never been mad at you, and he doesn’t want to be mad at you and he’s more mad at himself than he is you—But still, like, he looks mad at you and he can see the way you’re trembling, puffing out your chest and standing your ground to appear so much bigger than you are. It breaks his heart, he’s the worst daddy ever. The most dick-headed jerk of a boyfriend and you’re still here. Fighting for him, well, with him, you’re here and you’re fighting with him, that’s still something. 

“Why not?” Leon tilts his head to the side, his face softening in faux confusion. “You like it so much, don’t you?”

God, maybe he’s not so normal after all, and you haven’t fixed him, and bad thoughts always come back, and if he was normal he wouldn’t be wanting to jump off every balcony and walk into every main road and disappear into bodies of water.

Leon isn’t normal. Big surprise.

He’s just starting to realise that it doesn’t matter how many people love him, it doesn’t matter how many medals he’s awarded, it doesn’t matter that he’s a treasure to some degree, an old gun worth keeping—None of it matters, Leon realises, none of it will ever fucking matter because he is who he is. 

Leon is going to lead a miserable dogshit life because he can and he will and it doesn’t matter how many good or bad things happen to him, it doesn’t matter who he falls asleep next to - he’ll still feel shitty in the morning. 

(At the end of the day, he’s a Kennedy, and no Kennedy has ever been particularly lucky.) 

“I’m trying to be serious, Leon, and you’re acting like a child!” Your bottom lip quivers, and you’re probably wondering where your daddy has gone. “I can’t… I can’t believe you’re talking to me like that right now.” 

Neither can Leon. 

Guilt coils in his gut like a snake, constricting and hissing in the back of his head that he should know better, he’s so much older, he’s your daddy, and he’s meant to take care of you. That’s what daddies are for.  

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to force you into this, Leon, I don’t want to make you marry me if you don’t want me—“ He does want you. He wants you so bad. “—I don’t want to force you to have kids with me if you’re not ready, I just wish you had told me before I moved in with you—“ The hurt that crosses your face strikes him right in the heart, teardrops beading your gossamer lashes. 

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly, quietly, earnestly, not daring to take a step closer because he doesn’t deserve to feel you or smell you or touch you, “I want to be with you, I love you.” 

“I don’t know anymore, Leon.” You look to him helplessly, blinking up at him with these big doleful eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, equally as helpless, “I don’t know.” 

He’s your daddy, he’s meant to know, but he doesn’t, so he just stands there like an idiot. 

“I’m sad,” you tell him honestly, “I’m going to go upstairs now.”

Leon goes to follow you.

“Don't follow me.”

Leon goes back to standing there like a fucking idiot. 

[vaguely-concerned]

powerful mental image of lucanis expounding passionately about any given one of his limited but extremely deep areas of interest (the wyvern/knives/coffee/cooking/murder continuum of lucanis dellamorte special interests if you will) while rye lounges around and Beholds him with palpable twink boutta pounce energy

[frostgears]

officer's ball

If there was one thing that eventually turned you against the aristocracy, it was the yearly humiliation of you, your handler, and your entire ground crew being forced into beribboned beyond-antique pre-starflight fashion every year for the Officer's Ball. They insisted. They said the nobles needed the human element. They said it'd justify your funding.

"Ammo doesn't grow on trees," the woman who directed your every combat action said. "And if it did, they'd be found growing only in First Landing family gardens. I hate this. I hate these people. Every fucking year, just to keep the program running. Don't they get bored?" and then she burst into tears and you had to do her makeup again, from the beginning.

You didn't mind it so much for yourself. The entitled fat old perverts of every gender trying to grab your ass and catching a handful of hoopskirt were entertaining. So was being forced to sample a continuous mix of canapés, sherry, cocaine, chocolate, PL-2141, and further canapés. If you really worked at it, you could approximate a slight buzz, the faintest echo of what interface drugs did on an average mission day.

But your poor mechanic wasn't used to being groped by the nobility or plied with anything stronger than hangar coffee. By two hours in, she was looking green around the edges and ready to puke in the nearest potted palm. Your avionics specialist, parted from her usual headphones and overlay glasses, was rigid with sensory overload and unable to dissociate because some third son of some electronics bureau minister had her cornered about a harebrained idea and wouldn't let go.

Your handler was worst of all: thoroughly miserable in her tightly corseted dress and constitutionally unsuited to any kind of discomfort inflicted upon her own person, rather than yours. She jumped at the slightest touch, gritted her teeth even more noticeably with every introduction. Your signed or whispered attempts to quietly reassure her that the "mission" was on track and would be over soon caused her to twitch and on one occasion even yelp, startling the admiral responsible for your fuel allocation. You smoothed it over as best you could, insinuating something about "combat nerves" — the old fool might have actually thought she was a pilot! But you didn't feel the need to explain, not that night.

The next day, as you hunted down a rebel tactical element in the hills above Seyan's Folly, she was still hung over. Not hung over enough to not notice when the pinned-down rebel lieutenant started in on an honest-to-God "you're not so different, you and I" speech, but hung over enough that she told your comms operator to cut the audio feed to Command, not your cockpit speakers.

"We're listening," you boomed over external PA speakers, forwarding her orders. "Wait? We're listening? Apparently we're listening."

"Shit. I mean. We're not that different, really, but obviously there's, uh, you're part of a system, and there's, redemption is on the table, I guess, maybe you'd like to, uh… honestly, I was just buying time."

"Don't get cocky, I've had your reinforcements bracketed by smart mortars for the last two minutes," you said. "You never had any time to buy. But… tell me about your side's command structure. Does it have a yearly ball?"

"Are you fucking joking?"

Things got complicated after that, with the improvised extraction, but what the hell, your team already worked well together.

You've had to work for every round and every joule and every mole of active nanomachinery since (much of it wrested from lesser units sent from your homeworld to drag you back) and you share a tiny, noisy cabin with your handler above the large bay of a rebel assault transport.

Maybe you're on the right side. Maybe there isn't one. But they're still letting you pilot, and your handler has happily returned to a tank top, fatigue pants, and what's left of her battered leather jacket, restoring her confident growl over the tactical link. The liaison officer they've got watching you has assured her that there's not a single brocade ball gown in the entire fleet. □

[starwrighter]

Oh that makes more sense. It’d be kinda funny if danny mistook a bunch of human vigilantes for ghosts though. I mean, with the outfits and the bat’s reputation it’s not a big stretch. It’d be like one of those fics where Red hood straight up chills in Nightwings apartment and Dick doesn’t bat an eye because he thinks he’s a grown up hallucination of Jason.

Another thought that came to mind was these ‘ghosts’ not actually being the bats. Not from this timeline at least. Them being from Dan’s timeline was honestly the second thing that came to minde when I first read this. It’d could be really angsty for Danny to have to face the people an alternative version of him killed especially because he knows they’re heros. They are people who could’ve helped him, mentored him without any ulterior motives.

I know the bat’s wouldn’t be holding anything against Danny in particular, not when he’s clearly a different kid than the one who went on a killing spree. (Dan and Danny do not look similar enough to be the same person, Dan’s literally half plasmius) It’d be hypocritical for the bats to hold a grudge when they’ve had to face versions of themselves that’ve done the unthinkable on countless occasions. Yeah, they’d be wary but their main concern among finding out this is the kid who killed them would be ‘what the fuck happened?’

They’re detectives! Founding members and staples of the justice league/heros in general. And something happened under their noses that caused the end of the world. Ghosts exist in a way they previously had no clue about. A pair of scientists tore a hole into the afterlife and apparently attempted to do so when they were in college too? These mad scientists somehow evaded every watchlist that would’ve drawn the bats attention. They killed their son and they still had no clue it’d happened. Said son was now one of two competent hero’s in the city. He’s the only hero in amity who doesn’t want to genocide an entire dimension of people. The kid is burning both ends of the candle and somehow that isn’t what drove him to eradicate humanity?

What was? Oh, that would be the burger sauce that blew up an entire building, killing his entire support system in one foul swoop. If Vlad hadn’t gotten to him first Danny might’ve been a real contender for the robin position.

___

If we go with the astral projection route, are the bats from Danny’s dimension? Because it’d be pretty concerning as a hero if one day a whole gaggle of some of the most competent, smartest hero’s with years of formal training showed up dead in your house one day. If that’s not a cause for alarm I don’t know what is. The power struggle in gotham alone would be enough for the entire world to lose their marbles. The fact that the Waynes are dead too would be making headlines seconds after it happened.

Danny’s calm-ish reaction would make sense if they weren’t from his dimension at all, instead being from a comic or tv series he watched. Comic book hero’s die all the time. Bad timelines are a constantly used plot point. It just so happened Danny’s less of a Batman guy then he is a superman enjoyer. Or Danny could just not be into comics (doubtful) or Dc at all. It would explain why Danny is confused why they’re on guard about a glowing green substance when ‘glowing green substance,’ default for evil. Most people have at least heard about Batman in their lives. Do they know what lazarus water, or venom is? Probably not. That or Danny’s just too desensitized to radioactive looking material being shoved in his face or spilled on him.

Imagine it’s months later after the bats ‘faded’ and the entire justice league just emerges from a portal one day and yoinks him.

Danny sat on one of the bean bags, seeminly intentent on ignoring the ghosts of Batman and one of his sidekicks. "Controversal opinion. Billionaires should be treated like dragons. They hoard wealth, terrorize people and generally be selfish dicks so it should be legal to break into thier homes, beat them up and take thier stuff."

Sam snorted, and Tuckers' eyes gained that particular gleam. "Oh, I would love that!" Tucker shouted seemily oblivious to the two (extra) ghosts in the room. He tapped away on his tablet as he began talking about how they could be millionaires within weeks.

The bats snooped around the room as they spoke. Obviously not caring one bit about Danny's privacy. They would share looks with eachother whenever they found something particularly concerning, like Danny's bloody med kit or the pair of Fenton works blasters lying broken and leaking ectoplasm on his bathroom sink. For some reason the ghosts were very concerned about the ectoplasm but Danny didn't get why.

He thought maybe they would be overjoyed considering they were transparent and likely very weak but instead of olabsorbing it like most ghosts would do to get stronger, they treated it like it was radioactive.

For all Danny knew, it might be.

[lunawagner]

Study Results (1/??)

I'll post some of the results now! Firstly, I'll write about how I processed the data for those interested in details. (Please inform me if you see anything wrong or want to suggest a different method. I'm just an average person with an undergrad degree...)

If you just want to see the analysis, skip the data cleaning and test assumptions part! As a disclaimer, I don't know if this is all for now or if I can bring myself to work more on it soon 😭 

Special thanks to @xavieslittlestar and @m00nchildwrites for sharing this on bluesky and twitter

Data Cleaning

I realized that some of you guys didn't do the test and wrote the numbers by yourself 😊 And it took me hours to clean the data

As expected, there were some typos, and I corrected them before deciding which participants to exclude. For instance, some wrote 29/20, and since the sum of the subfactor scores is equal to your main factor score, I was able to confirm that it should be 19/20 by doing main_factor_score—other_subfactors = target_subfactor.

After dealing with typos, all participants who entered random values like 0000 and values that didn't align with the main factor scores were excluded.

In the end, the sample size was reduced from ~2600 to 1929.

Test Assumptions

The normality and homogeneity of variance were checked. Most of them fulfilled the homogeneity of variance(Levene's Test), but normality was problematic. I assessed normality based on Kolmogorov-Smirnov(KS), kurtosis, skewness, and Q-Q plot. There were some outliers, but most of them were a natural part of the data, so I didn't change anything about them. Although KS values were lower than .05 , I assumed normality if kurtosis and skewness seemed average (-2 to +2 for kurtosis, -1 to +1 for skewness). For others, I tried trimming, LOG, SQRT, Z, and LN transformations, but still couldn't normalize... Winsorizing would probably work, but there are too many participants(yes, I'm lazy). So, I'm gonna be relatively liberal about normality.

Results

Please note that all of them have small effect sizes (0.2 Cohen's d or 0.1 η2). So regardless of the p values, the actual association between your personality based on the big five and character choices in lads might be small in degree. Also, this is an observational study, which means you shouldn't try to infer a causation or a strict relation (so use it just for your enjoyment, not for fandom chaos~). But I'll put my personal comment under them because I need to enjoy myself too lol

Also, I realised that some of those are changing or disappearing when I compare poc(people of color) and non-poc within themselves. Therefore, the effects might be moderated/mediated by cultural differences as well.

===Trust====

Sylus mains had the lowest mean score in terms of trust(M=11.2, SD=3.42). Yet, they significantly differed only from Xavier mains who had the highest mean(M=12.1, SD=3.28).

Personal comment: I don't know what to make of it. But let me put those here as well.

==Conscientiousness and Agreeableness==

I'll write this together because I have a theory about these results.

Caleb mains' scores were the lowest in terms of conscientiousness (M=74.3, SD=13.7) and agreeableness(M=84.4, SD=13.8). For conscientiousness, they significantly differed from Zayne and Sylus mains. And for agreeableness, they significantly differed from Zayne and Xavier mains. [Agreeableness showed unequal variances, so I used Kruskall-Wallis test]

Personal comment: Honestly, I'm surprised. (Caleb and his girlies not beating red flag/villain allegations)

If anything, I would expect Sylus mains to have lower agreeableness and conscientiousness (first impressions don't disappear).

Then I thought, what if it's related to Caleb being MC's adopted brother? Listen before shooting me. To feel at ease with this setting, you should have higher (but healthy) dissociative tendencies to detach yourself from its real-life associations. And guess what— low agreeableness and low conscientiousness are related to high disassociation [refer to:https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1130527417300373]. Secondly, having a lower need to conform(related to agreeableness and conscientiousness) with others might be making it easier for some people to choose Caleb as their main love interest.

(But as I said, these results are liable to change. For instance, for the non-poc sample the lowest mean value of conscientiousness belongs to Rafayel mains)

===Emotionality===

Caleb(M=14.7, SD=3.49) mains had the lowest emotionality score, and the difference between them and Zayne(M=15.6, SD=3.04), Rafayel(M=15.5, SD=3.11), and Sylus(M=15.5, SD=3.33) mains was significant

Personal comment:......Babes lolololol. Is Caleb's robot alter taking over his mains?? Did they get a Toring chip as well? It's so funny omg

===Self-Discipline===

Rafayel(M=10.1, SD=2.96) and Caleb(M=10.1, SD=2.97) mains had similarly low scores of self-discipline, and they differed from Zayne(M=10.8, SD=2.87) and Sylus(M=10.8, SD=2.79) significantly.

Personal comment: As a Rafayel main, I can confirm this.

=Second Love Interest=

Most of Zayne mains chose Sylus as their second love interest. The other most preferred second love interest was Caleb, but since this test was done just before Caleb's new myth, the results might be affected by our excitement for it. Also, Zayne mains showed low preference for Rafayel.

A note about less significant/non-significant observations:

As a whole, we have low extraversion and average conscientiousness, as well as high openness to experience, neuroticism, and agreeableness

For subcategories, we have the highest mean for imagination and the lowest mean for gregariousness. (perfect combination to date fictional men)

Sylus and Zayne mains had similar mean scores in many main factors and subfactors of the Big Five test. Likewise, Rafayel and Caleb mains' scores were close to each other, and they contrasted with Sylus and Zayne(not always significantly tho). Xavier mains generally had balanced scores.

None of the groups differed significantly in terms of openness to experience, neuroticism, extroversion, and these factors' subcategories.

To check if the data gives standard results, I checked socioeconomic status(SES) and its relation to neuroticism since previous studies indicate higher neuroticism for low SES groups, and it was the same for this dataset as well. Anxiety, depression, and neuroticism showed a slightly decreasing trend as the SES increased.

Some studies suggest that people of color have lower trust scores, but in this study, poc had higher trust than non-poc. However, it might be due to the differences in exposure to discrimination between poc who live in the US and those who are natives of other countries.

Tag list: @dadddybangtan @gingers-random-junk @cloudyasteria @eoe-1379 @kwtdrn @punksausages @satorusfrontallobesilverhair @xanxann01 @dandellien @auraficial @fictionalmenlover5 @bundle-of-sunlight @starryfilled @cupcakefactory @rayamalaya @mandapanda16 @nouerzzz @jonggunkitten @fckkntired @dreamienebula @tiffyelefano @bbnique @maybeyougotmewrong @starrychxn @situationsheep @maimaily @irlsammy @meowumis @piranha-teeth @svnflowery @soapsoftheworld

[wakatoshiiss]

haikyuu boys when you're pregnant !

contains : t. kageyama, k. sugawara, t. oikawa, u. wakatoshi, m. atsumu // (all timeskip)

tags / warnings : fem reader (obvs), just little thoughts

notes : i started writing this with kageyama's in mind, so hopefully i executed this well. im rewatching haikyuu rn and im currently cringing as hinata sneaks his way into camp ugh. also im like posting a bunch meow

masterlist // requests are open

TOBIO KAGEYAMA -

when he finally understood what your surprise was, the worlds best dad! mug, he was over the moon excited. then worried. then absolutely freaked out. he asked too many times about how it would work with his schedule, and if you were going to be okay. he even offered taking a break from playing to help you.

the entire time, he was always checking up on you, either calling from hundreds of miles away, or keeping you in bed. he thought no different of you, didnt care that you honestly couldnt do anything by yourself, he loved taking care of you! he only thought of how cute you were with his child.

when the bump was completely evident now, he would play volleyball matches on his phone, and hold the speaker up to your tummy. he wanted his child to play volleyball, if they wanted to, of course. no matter if it was a boy or girl, he was gonna start training from before birth.

KOSHI SUGAWARA -

you straight up handed him the positive test, big eyes all teary and lip quivering. but honestly, he was so happy, he immediately dropped it and ran around the house. then he remembered you standing right there, then ran after you and literally threw you in the air.

he is a girl dad one thousand percent, so he wanted to know the gender as soon as possible. but no matter what, he was happy that you were the one who he had a family with. he made sure you never lifted a pinky, always scheduling your appointments, making food (yes even your odd cravings), and drove you around everywhere.

when hormones' kicked in, he tried his best to just shut up and sit down for you. he never wanted to upset you, but one time he did because he didnt cut your cucumbers a certain way. you were hysterical and unappetized, and he just stood there with a defeated face, knowing that the next two trimesters were going to be even better.

TORU OIKAWA -

he cried as well. harder than you actually, which made you freak out, which made him freak out. you two were in the bathroom crying out the 'im not ready to be a parent!'. but oikawa smacked himself in the face and held you close, trying to convince you everything was going to be okay.

he helped you when he could, but argentina was kicking his ass with camps and practice. so more often then not, hed come home completely worn out. but he still did the dishes, and prepped all your food. he more helped from a distance, and let you do what you needed.

he was dead set on having a boy in his mind, but when you two found out it was a girl, he was already shopping. showing you all the cute pinky clothes with bows and flowers. his mind definitely changed at that moment, knowing that his daughter would be just as beautiful has his mother (and him of course).

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI -

you two definitely had this planned, it was his job to carry down the bloodline. and he definitely wanted a boy to carry down his legacy. ushijima was a traditionalist, if anything. you tried to explain that you didnt need to be babied just because you had a baby, but he just shook his head and made you lay down for all almost ten months.

he cooked, cleaned, and online shopped so you could see the options too. the gender reveal was where he felt most nervous, he wanted a boy. i mean he would love them no matter what, but definitely a boy. and he felt like his prayers were answered when the ultrasound came back as a male. it was the one time he publicly celebrated anything.

so he made sure you ate nice and healthy for not only you, but him. he spent the entire last trimester baby proofing every crack of your home, softening the corners of any surface, and making sure there were no dangling cords for him to choke on. when you noticed the new child lock on the cabinets, all he did was put his hand on your stomach and kiss your head, telling you to not worry about anything other than your son.

ATSUMU MIYA -

blank face, no words, and no thought. didnt understand the two lines on the little white stick that had you jumping all over him while laughing. was honestly in denial, like that, 'we are actually having a baby? together? me and you? our kid?'. but when it clicked, he teared up and hugged you.

he immediately called osamu, making fun of how he was carrying the bloodline before he was. but in all seriousness, he was overjoyed. he was all about the publicity too, showing off his beautiful wife and her cute tummy that held his child. he tried his best to help out in the house, but was a lost cause when it came to cooking. so he ordered takeout ninety percent of the time.

definite massager, shoulders, back, feet even. he had no idea how much pain you were in, so all he could do was at least get rid of some of it. told you how pretty you were even though you had been in bed for a week and continuously growing in size, he also never saw anything different, just a better chance to give you as many compliments as he could at any given time.

----♡

[graywaynewriter]

Rowdy Neighbors

Warnings: PIV, Dirty talk, oral (fem. receiving), loud sex, voyeur?? (cause you can hear the neighbors), hair pulling,

"ugh finally," Dick huffs as he lets his body fall into bed "home...."

It was a long day and night of patrolling and fighting, he was just glad to be home and have a day off tomorrow.

"You know you're gonna owe Tim a day off after he picked up for you," you say slipping into your spot next to him, getting comfortable with his warmth.

"Yeah, but it was worth it. I honestly need more than 5 hours of sleep for once." he sighs as he pulls you closer into his side kissing the top of your head "And, you wont have to wake up to an empty bed"

"thank god," you giggle softly as you close your eyes and let yourself relax in his hold. Finally you would get a night of restful sleep with Dick with you. He worked so hard and so often it sometimes made night restless, sometimes leading to you staying up late waiting for him.

Now for a peaceful, restful night sleep.

....

At least that's what you thought until the neighbors started making noise. Now this wasn't just any noise, but a moan. A loud one at that

"..Dick?" you check if he is asleep

"Yeah....."

"they're um....pretty loud aren't they?"

"Mhm..."

You spoke awkwardly as the moans grow louder and then came the wall thumping. Oh lord your neighbors were having sex and you were both just taking it all in at 12 AM. Your first thought would be to simply block it out, turn on the tv or just wait for them to stop. However you were dating Dick Grayson, the same man who keep Bludhaven safe is the same one who offers,

"Wanna fuck louder than them to assert dominance?" He said with his signature cocky smile

Of course you start laughing because what kind of outrageous idea would that be? “ you’re not actually serious.”

He doesn’t say a word as he just raises an eyebrow at you “oh I’m seriously sweetheart,” he climbs over you and pin your wrists above your head on the pillow “deadly serious,” he said in a low voice coming down closer to your ear.

"And how do you know we'll be louder? Ah!" he nipped at your neck making you giggle and squirm

"Oh come on, you think I don't know you well enough to make you scream?" he chuckled as you feel his hands run under your shirt and cup your breasts. His thumb ran over your hardened nipple "mmm looks like I'm on the right track hm?"

You can feel him smiling against the skin of you neck. He moves down to your breast leaving a kiss on your nipple. Sticking his tongue out to flick at the bud, your fingers coming up to run through the roots of his hair.

"Mmm dick..." moving from your nipple he moves down, tracing his tongue along your skin. Coming down to your naval where he places a kiss just under the area, his calloused hands drag down your bottoms as his lips continue their journey. You could help but squirm a bit, knowing exactly what you wanted

"You need me here don't you princess?" he smirks placing a kiss to your mound "need me to make you feel good?"

"Y-yes...." you shiver with anticipation; your knees being hoisted on to his shoulders as his blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. With his sly smirk he lowers his head and you feel a slow, warm lick up your slit that made you sigh deeply. You can feel every lap, every moan he let out as he pleased you. Your taste was addicting, it made him hungry for more. His tongue lays flat as a long lick starting from the bottom and trailing up to your clit where he flicks the bulb, and sucks it into his mouth,

"Ah~" your back arches, pushing your hips into his face more to which he gladly welcomed. You hear a low growl as his hands move to the back of your knees and push them towards you, spreading you open for him. He wanted you--needed you to scream. Let them know just how good he pleases you. He lifts his head for a moment, his lips glistening with your juices. He was panting slightly with the damn smirk again

"Dick...please..." you hated when he would just stop in the middle of things, leaving you aching and needy.

"Don't worry princess I've got ya'. Just need one out of you before I give you what you want," his middle and rings finger rim around your aching pussy. Taking just a couple of seconds before he plunges them in to the hilt. Your back arching, finally savoring that stretch that you were aching for.

His tongue and lips find their way back to your clit. He laps and sucks at the bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of you. You throw your head back as your mom‘s grow louder and more erotic. Now was when the competition against your neighbors really started your hips start to book and ride his fingers wanting more and more of him. You wanted that euphoria that burst of release around his fingers and on his face.

Your fingers tangled into the dark dresses of his head, pulling him closer to your pussy. Your toes curl as you can feel the tightening in your stomach growing tighter and tighter until finally,

“Ah~!” a nice loud moan. High and pitch and just loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Just how he likes it he laps up your juices and pulls his fingers out gently. You throb and ache around nothing as you pant. He brings those same fingers to his lips and cleans them off with his tongue. Oh how he loved to see your face flush like that. After a strong orgasm the way, your cheeks flush and your eyes become glassy, knowing that he was the one who did that to you.

But he wasn’t done,

“Alright, princess, flip over. Want to see that nice ass,” he says as he strips himself of his clothes, leaving you exposed to his muscular body. Some faint scars adorn certain surfaces of his body, but they only made him more attractive. Keeping your eyes on him, you slowly turn over onto your stomach and raise your ass up towards him. Almost teasingly, you shake your hips a bit, letting the flesh and muscle jiggle in front of him. You knew how to get him aroused, and this was definitely one of those moments. His hands find your hips as they smooth over the flesh of your ass. The gentle caress is followed by a sharp spank to it, making you shriek at the contact.

“Oh, come on, Princess. I know you’re louder than that,” another spank came, and you made sure to make it sound just a bit more pornographic when you moaned as his hand struck your flesh. “Atta girl,”

His fingers grip at a first full of hair at the base of your neck and pulls slightly, as the head of his cock teases at you. Skipping just the head in and pulling back out making you whine.

“Come on baby ask for what you want,” he pulls out waiting to hear this magic words.

“P-please?” You ask giving you some inches but not completely

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me Grayson…” a smirk farces his face as he pulls out once more and bottoms out all at once making him groan and you let out a moan. He gets into a steady rhythm, the bed frame starting to rock every now and then

“Fuck…so tight…so wet for me…” *he moans lowly, as he watches your ass jiggle with every thrust that meets his hips. Slowly but surely he can hear you starting to drown out your neighbors. soon enough, the only thing that he can focus on was the sound of your headboard, thumping against the wall and your moans filling his ears. His favorite combination of sounds right after his favorite band.

His hand moves to the back of your neck and pushes you down into the mattress as his thrusts become deeper, needier. The sound of skin slapping against skin fill your ears as Dick dominated you in the best way. At this rate, both your upstairs and downstairs Neighbor will probably give you a nice complaint.

“Ah! Ah! Dick! Fuck! S-so close~” you moan feeling that knot in your stomach again. Your eyes starting to roll back. You couldn’t help your hips, starting to move back against him, wanting more and more!

“Y-yeah Princess? Cum…cum for me! Come on this cock baby,” he groans loudly as he ounces into you, feeling your walls clench around him, bring him closer and closer to filling you to the brim.

The bed thumped, you both moaned and whined until his hips come to a stutter and he dumps himself into you. Your moans becoming whines as you both ride out your highs. Your slick walls pulsing around him, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you. Roles of silk filling you to the very hilt. Reducing both of you to panting messes.

He pulls out of you, a whine coming from your tired lips. He leans down and kisses your shoulder with a little chuckle

“Think they got the message?” Another kiss to your temple as he plops down next to you, moving some hair out of your face

“Well,” you both listen for a moment “…seems like we beat em,” you both give a celebratory high five knowing you may have been a bit too loud, but hey you had a great time.

“Now how about another shower before bed?” He offered

“Absolutely,”

…...🌙

[tuttle-did-it]

Fascinating. Odo always came off to me as aro/ace as he was so insistent in the earlier years that he just couldn't comprehend why anyone would be romantically or physically involved. There's always room along various spectrums to move, so it's fine that Odo changed, but he did seem genuinely baffled why anyone would bother with any of that.

And I certainly would have liked to see agender/nonbinary variations of Odo, I always found it very strange that Odo could be any gender representation possible, and just chose to have the same face and body every day. Which, as an agender/non-binary trans person, I find baffling.

Would have much preferred Jadzia and her bi/pan more highlighted. (Especially as the reason given for her and Lenara unable to be together was because of Trill rules that hosts can't carry lives/relationships you had in previous lives (which honestly seems like the stupidest rule I can think of). That made zero sense, because Sisko already knew her as Curzon. But at least they didn't kill Lenara, especially as this particular era was so heavy on the Bury Your Queers trope. So... good job? I guess? But still, it didn't make sense. Especially because the first thing Ezri does is go to DS9 where Jadzia's former husband and all her best friends live? That was baffling to me.)

I would have also wanted to see more of Jadzia and gender perormativity/genderfuck. As a young queer person watching her as I grew up, Jadzia was the first trans-coded character I saw on television who was not a JOKE or comic character. (you guys know how much I love Klinger. But they invented him for a joke. And you know I love Bugs, but again, he was a comic character and the joke was that he wore dresses often. I loved them both. But they were invented as a joke.)

Having someone whose sexuality and gender representation were a NOT jokes was a huge deal to me. And that all of Jadzia's friends just totally accepted her without question, and how easily she could just say 'when I was a man....' without anyone trying to murder her was actually huge. ESPECIALLY considering how many shows I saw as a kid had a trans coded/gender queer/gender non-conforming/person in drag were shown as psychopaths and murderers in police procedurals and crime shows. So Jadzia, as a trans-coded character, was a HUGE deal to me. And thank you Terry Farrell for leaning into that and often talking about how much that means to her on a personal level when queer/enby/trans people talk to her and tell her how important Jadzia was.

Garak/Bashir... I love, LOVE their relationship. One of my favourite relationships in most of the TV i've seen. I wouldn't have minded if it had just been confirmed casually. Even if they had an open relationship, just a casual acknowledgement (probably from Bashir).

Or, you know... NOT had them attempt to pretend Garak (in his 50s) is in a flirtation/question situationship with Ziyal (who is still or barely out of being a teenager-- and the daugher of someone he hates). That was... yeah. Didn't work for me. What that felt like to me was the Powers That Be became annoyed at how many fans were convinced Bashir and Garak were lovers, so they ordered the writers to try to break that up by bringing in a teenage/very young Cardassian woman.

If he and Bashir adopted her or something, I would have hated it less. But that relationship-- even if read on a friendship level where she has a crush and he's like no I am way to old for you also my husband will mind.

Ziyal should have been connected with Jake. He's a writer, she's an artist. They would have made so much more sense than trying to suggest that Ziyal and Garak were even remotely possible.

I would have also hoped more of the O'Brien polycule would have been addressed. Because the polycule is one of my absolute favourite things about DS9.

(I don't mean any of this to be hateful or negative. I love DS9. But I still do have a few thoughts about it all. DS9 was certainly the queerest of the Treks-- and as queer (in many ways) watching, it had a huge impact on me. So I'm grateful for what I did get. Thank you. )

Finished DS9 recently, and it's the first trek i've watched. Super obsessed with it btw. If you had written this more recently, would you have tried to have characters be canonically gay/bisexual/lesbian? If so, who? (You're probably going to say Garak and Bashir and I know it)

Just to avoid expectations...

Dax is canonically bi, so nowadays, we'd definitely play into that more.

Also, given his nature, Odo should be pan. I don't think the Founders actually have gender. They only pretend to when they find it useful.

I honestly love the Bashir/Garak dynamic so much, I don't know if I'd really want to change it. Maybe we'd be more overt. But Garak doesn't really do "overt," and that's part of his charm.

[tangyneon]

it was over from the start

Gazes meeting each other is good, but not enough.

Gojo wants your eyes on him—and only him—preferably for all time.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader tags: teen!gojo; first meetings; love at first sight(??); lovesick gojo(??); mostly fluffy with minimal angst; you're in 1st year while gojo's in 3rd year of high school; gojo has a very 'unique' idea of romancing in his brain; heavy on the 'one-sided enemies to lovers' vibes; word count–3114. warnings: one small discussion on death. also, gojo himself. notes: not me rewriting and reposting one of my most popular works from my old blog—YET AGAIN!!!! anyway, babes... the fic title is from "You Had Me from Hello" by Kenny Chesney. hope you'll enjoy reading this!! ❤️❤️

The sky bleeds green, the first time Gojo sees you fight.

It isn't anything enthralling, though.

Your movements are far from well-practised. Your twisted expression screams moderate unease at best, and extreme discomfort at worst. You are definitely not one of the best sorcerers Gojo has encountered so far in his seventeen years of life—

Yet, the boy finds himself utterly transfixed.

His feet stay rooted to the earth as a much brighter green beam cuts through the forest, and the third mountain of cursed spirit turns into nothing more than wisps of smoke, your form slumping to the ground not long after—

Were he a better person at heart, Gojo reckons he would have rushed to help you. But he isn't.

Not really—perhaps, not at all.

Which is why, he keeps to his vantage point—blue eyes narrowing a smidgen behind his shades, as he watches you heave yourself slowly off the mud, your face growing a scowl as you trudge towards a tree and plop down with absolutely no ceremony in front of it—

When he suddenly hears a barely-there rustle from his left.

Followed by the appearance of the steady simmer of a cursed signature, all too familiar.

"Yo, Nanamin!" Gojo doesn't miss a beat to greet, cheeks stretching into a wide grin the moment the said kouhai comes before him, feet carefully and soundlessly treading the rugged terrain.

The latter's perpetual glower turns into a momentary flicker of surprise—but it's vanished before the older boy can comment on it. Nanami's face flattens back to its usual state of annoyed indifference.

"The tournament is already over. Yaga-sensei wants us all to report to him in another ten—" he starts conveying his teacher's instructions, only to stop—a little too abruptly, might one add. And Gojo's brows furrow a bit, considering how strange this is...

Oh.

Oh—oh.

So, Nanamin has finally spotted you in the valley below, huh?

Wrapping an arm round his kouhai's shoulders, he lets his gaze go to you—absently noting how cute you look while yawning—"She is from Kyoto, isn't she?"

"Yes," The younger boy replies, pinning Gojo under a curious look. But this too is gone all too soon, all too swiftly like the ones preceding. He drops the arm the other boy has been resting on his shoulder.

Gojo lets him, though. SImply pouting in response, before humming casually, "And do you know her?"

"Personally, no," Nanami is quick to answer, but then, his voice takes on a rare thoughtful tone, "But from what I have heard from others... she's somewhat peculiar, if I may say so."

This is honestly one of the best opportunities he'll ever get to tease this stoic underclassman of his, because since when did The Nanami Kento start gossiping like old geezers and grannies—but Gojo allows this chance to pass by.

Getting more deets on you is much more important to him.

He doesn't bother to hide his burgeoning interest from his tone. "You know her name by any chance?"

Nanami does know your name.

And as far as Gojo knows, your surname doesn't belong to any of the sorcerer clans—none of the major clans at least, he is quite sure of it. You might be from a minor one, or—according to what his intuition is telling him—you're from a non-sorcerer background.

It doesn't matter to him, however—the boy doesn't take even two full seconds to decide. He's far better than his clan elders.

"And which year is she in?" he finds himself asking.

"First year," Arrives the short reply, albeit it's a bit more visibly tinged with quizzical hues than before.

The older boy doesn't seem to mind it much, though. His brain is too busy going "wow!!" over this new piece of information—it hasn't even been a handful of months since you joined the kyoto high, still you've managed to make people talk about you!? Quite impressive, he thinks amusedly as he steals another glance of you—no longer yawning but just staring vacantly at your keds—

Except, those muddy shoes are no more the object of your attention. It is him—Gojo realises in a mere fraction of an instant but with not a very inconspicuous jolt—it is very much him.

Your bright, blinding, blindingly bright gaze—every little ounce of it—is focused on him, your back straightening, shoulders tensing, brows furrowing—

One thing—no, fact—which ought to be remembered is: Gojo Satoru does not run away.

He's one of the strongest duo of Jujutsu sorcerers. The boy does not, cannot, should not run away.

Yet, that is exactly what he does when his gaze collides with yours for the very first time.

Grabbing Nanami's hand, Gojo wastes not even one moment to warp them both to the school's rooftop—very much ignoring his kouhai's yelp of surprise which anyway goes with the ear-piercing whistling of the wind—releasing his hold on the other boy, the instant their feet touch the concrete.

And taking a tiny but very important breath, the young holder of the Six Eyes turns to his underclassman and asks—his eyes the calmest he can make them seem amidst the maelstrom he's facing within.

"Tell me everything you know about her—like, right now—or I will tell your dear Geto-senpai you were the one who finished his melon pan—quit glaring and start speaking, Nanamin!!"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Turns out, Nanami's heart sports a horribly soft corner for Gojo's best friend.

Also turns out, the Tokyo High third year need not wait until breakfast the next day to approach you—given how you amble into his life in an awfully washed-out set of pyjamas and a terrible hairstyle, a full eight hours before the time he has been planning to meet you at.

After a moment's deliberation, he decides he doesn't hate it, though.

Neither you coming into his life, without any preamble, when it must have been him who startles you with his dazzling and dramatic entry into the stage of your life. Nor your pale choice of attire and hairstyle; not when they don't make you seem anything even slightly inferior to an angel—especially then when you flip the kitchen lights on, making the clock appear like a halo-ey thing behind your head—

You suddenly stop, wrenching the boy away from his lightly poetic thoughts. And your eyes as wide as saucers, he watches you suck in a sharp breath.

A beat passes.

Gojo swallows the last bit of his mochi, and grins.

"Heeey!! You're the newbie from Kyoto, right? Heard a lot 'bout you!!"

Honestly, though? It was less of hearing and more of extracting info, but he decides against mentioning it. You have no business knowing that, whatever the case may be.

The case at present feels a little painful to him, however—what with you letting ten terribly long seconds tick by before returning the boy a response—

Which turns out to be nothing more than a stiff smile.

And an even stiffer bow.

Followed immediately by you turning on your heel.

Were Gojo any slower, he knows you would have slipped from the kitchen without any trouble at all. But, the thing is—he isn't. Which is why not even a couple of seconds can pass before he stills you again, albeit this time not by his tall figure lounging in a scarily dark kitchen, but by his fingers grasping your wrist—

His thumb pressing into the dangerously frantic pulse beneath your skin.

You try to snatch your hand away. He lets you—but one must know: he let you only because he was too distracted by the furious warmth of embarrassment creeping into your pretty face and not because of the way your skin felt too soft beneath the callouses of his palms...

Anyway. Whatever.

Drawing in a steadying breath, he moves to speak, throw back some quip—only to be beaten to it by you. You're the first one to break the silence this time, voice quiet yet astonishingly firm.

"I don't think I can help you with anything, Senpai," you say, your careful politeness betrayed only by the faintest furrow between your brows, "Please don't bother me this way. It's nearly midnight, and I need to be back in my rooms as soon as possible—let me go, please."

No way is Gojo 'bothering' you right now—the indignant retort is the first thing the boy can think of. But he resolves to bite it back anyway.

A stupid argument isn't how he wants his story to start with you.

Sure, there might and will be many of those later on, but not now. No. He shoots you his second grin of tonight.

"Aw, I don't need your help with anything," The boy chirps back with a smile, he supposes, is winning, "But, yeah—you are right. I should not stop you like this... You need to sleep enough before tomorrow's one-on-one duels, don't ya?"

"Yeah," you agree easily, eyes drifting to your shoes in a small nod.

Gojo feels his grin widen.

Maybe, like a Cheshire Cat.

Maybe, like a Victor Cat who finally got the rat right where he wanted: in his paws. He hums—

"But you won't needing much rest if you're already determined to lose the match tomorrow—will you now?"

No, you won't.

You obviously won't—the boy likes to believe he has learnt enough about you to predict this much accurately. But, maybe... he hasn't learnt quite enough, given how you don't show any sliver of shock or fear in response to his question.

The only reaction you deign him with, is a pair of raised eyebrows—which take only a moment to descend back to their original level. A small beat passes, before you break the silence yet again—although your tone feels much firmer this time.

"What exactly are you trying to tell me, Senpai?"

"Nothing too serious," The boy ekes out the light reply—silently cursing the way his palms have grown so cold and so clammy now of all times—"Just that it does not take a hell lot of work to maintain the image of an incompetent idiot, you have been so insistent on keeping all this time—c'mon," he makes his voice extra petulant to coax some reaction out of your still placid face, "You do know what I'm speaking of, don't you?"

In retrospect, there's a chance Gojo might think he ought to have handled you with greater care.

You're new not only to your school, but also to the whole world of sorcery in general. Pressing you this hard is bound to hurt you, if not break you downright into teeny-tiny pieces—the boy does not let his thoughts be this concerned for more than a beat, though.

Not when he wants to see something—anything—come to life in those big, beautiful eyes of yours. Not when he's dying to see a spark blaze into being in them.

You fold your arms across your chest, brows huddling close in a light scowl. Gojo feels his own lips curve into a light grin, absolutely loving the fact he could finally wring a reaction out of you—never mind that it's an annoyed one. A reaction is a reaction, no matter what.

"What exactly are you trying to tell me, Senpai?" your adorable voice repeats, much stonier than before.

He resists the urge to pinch your cheeks. Or worse—coo at you.

Removing his hands from his pockets, the boy mimics your stance as he says, "Nothing which you cannot already guess, Kouhai—I mean, you're really smart, aren't you? Almost as smart as me, I believe, what with tricking those stinking geezers into thinking you are just some weakass with no cursed technique or good fighting skills, despite the insane amount of cursed energy you have..."

He deliberately trails off for a moment, wanting the scene to be a bit more dramatic and heavy with a meaningful silence—only to disrupt the silence himself not even a couple of seconds later.

"Why did you never curb your cursed energy, by the way?" The query slips past his lips into the space in between. And it takes the boy but one second to realise just how horribly genuinely curious it is—much more than he's ever been about anyone—

The tone of the ask has unsettled you too a bit, he gathers easily from the way a shadow falls on your features momentarily, and despite the not-too-little reluctance marking your face, you return an actual reply to him.

"The higher-ups were aware of my cursed energy before I even knew what the hell it meant," you say in an awfully matter-of-fact tone, but if Gojo strains his ears, he thinks there might be a tinge of resignation somewhere in between your words—"And by the time I was informed about all this, it was very late. The higher-ups would have noticed if I tried to do anything."

The "And they would have harmed me or my family if I tried anything" goes unsaid—but the boy doesn't need to hear it to know it. He has been in this world of sorcery since the day he was born; he knows the way it works far too well.

Not entirely intentionally, his voice softens with the next question, "But you tampered with something no one was aware of yet—you lied about having no cursed technique, didn't you?"

Unlike the time before, your hesitation seems to overpower you now.

Brows furrowing for a beat before flattening again, you let the silence stew for a while before stating shortly, "But my horrible fighting skills weren't really a lie—you saw me fight today afternoon, didn't you? You must know I wasn't bluffing about it, then."

He knows.

He so knows.

But he also knows that, with a cursed technique as powerful as yours—not as strong as his, no, but you can easily hold your own in a tough situation—it isn't very necessary for you to be awesome at combat. It will do nicely even if you keep fighting how you were earlier today—

The sound of a yawn breaks Gojo's musings.

And he snaps himself out of his mind—only to be met with those big eyes of yours blinking up at him—so bleary yet so bright. Stifling the urge to pinch your cheeks again, he decides to shoo your drowsiness away by casting the next ask his brain has cooked up; one, he knows, has the biggest "YES" for its answer—

"You are very scared of dying, aren't you?" The boy hums, cracking a small but deep smile, "That is why you always make yourself seem so weak—so much so that you aren't assigned onto any mission—"

"Just how much can your Six Eyes see, Senpai?"

Startled into a sudden stop—it isn't every day that the young scion of the biggest of the Big Three Families is cut off mid-sentence, after all—Gojo's smile falls flat. Even more so when he watches your lips form an easy smile, the shape growing sharper edges as you speak, "Dying is rather easy and uncomplicated, Senpai. It does not really scare me, except, perhaps, the pain I might have to suffer before it. But, do you know what's scarier, Senpai?"

"No," he says back quietly, honestly, bringing forth a new hue in your smile. A new colour that seems awfully similar to that of pity—

The boy usually detests pity. Spurns it, spits at it the few times it has been offered to him. But now when it's coming from you... he'll take it, he thinks.

He'll take any look you're willing to give him, as long as it's you on the other side.

A minute sigh reaches him, quieter than even the soft breeze outside. You sigh once more before speaking, "What's more terrifying is what will happen to my loved ones, if I just die one fine morning—I mean, I know death is inevitable, but I just want to stave it off for as long as I can, you know? I want to spend as much time as I can with my family and friends, and have as much fun as possible with them—you know what, Senpai?" you interrupt yourself suddenly, your voice becoming the sharpest it's been in the last fifteen minutes.

A feeble sound escapes the boy—reasons for which, he doesn't have one clue about.

Is it because of the sincere little hum always accompanying your words? Or, is it because of the sweet glow the full moon is giving your already-sweet face? Or, can it be because of both?

Perhaps, it is both—he decides after a moment's consideration—it is very difficult to distinguish between the beauty of your inner self and that of your outer self, after all...

Your smile simmers down to a subtle twitch of your lips.

Something stutters and stumbles inside Gojo's chest.

Expression shifting into something far wiser than he's ever thought it to be possible for anyone your age, you state coolly, "I know you view me as nothing more than a coward right now, but I believe it is better to be a coward and alive, than to be a hero and dead—well, what do you believe in, Senpai?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You're quite bold, though, for a self-admitted coward.

Far braver than he could have ever thought you could be, even if you had never called yourself a coward how you did before him then—

Gojo cracks a wry smile, thinking back to his conversation with you—only to wince the very next moment when he accidentally presses his hurt toe a little too hard by the ice bag, the poor thing all swollen and bruised and simply miserable from how utterly mercilessly the heel of your slipper stamped onto it earlier—

Okay, fine—the boy concedes to the imaginary angel perched on his right shoulder, an exasperated mix of a grumble and a sigh escaping—he shouldn't have asked you out on a date, in return for promising to keep your secrets.

It was wrong.

Extremely inappropriate, yes, he admits. And Gojo likes to see himself as a gentleman who knows how to treat people respectfully—at least, those who deserve it, and the boy genuinely deems you to be one from those deserving folks.

Still—still, still, still—

The need to see your placid smile crack—never mind it is by a glower and not by the smile he has been longing to see; the smile, he knows without seeing even once, will be just as lovely as you—this need was overwhelming too then. Incredibly so, in fact.

Shushing the annoying angel and fist-bumping his guardian devil, Gojo tosses the ice bag away and falls back into his bed, a very happy and unbelievably giddy grin splitting his face into halves—

You're one hell of a peculiar girl, heh!

© tangyneon 2025 || please don't plagiarise, translate or repost this || characters used here aren't mine || header is from pinterest || masterlist.

[harmonysanreads]

Idk if you saw but Phainon apparently has a hobby in appraising antiques. Just imagine if for his partner he fondly refers to them as his greatest or most priceless treasure. Though on the other hand, it certainly gives "dragon coveting its hoard" kinda vibes. Possibly romantic depending on who you ask, but it speaks volumes of how much he cherishes them.

Yup I've seen his shenanigans regarding this and I must thank you because, I feel like this is a great opportunity to discuss how possessive Phainon can be.

The idea seems contradictory to what Aglaea and Tribbie have told us about him — he's selfless, willingly takes on more burden than he should and pushes himself constantly to meet that image of a ‘perfect vessel’ in order to protect Amphoreus. The term possessiveness should be absolutely unthinkable to be put in the same sentence as his name. Such a noble hero couldn't possibly be... selfish, right?

Phainon himself battles with these doubts, well, it would be more precise to say that he's the one who thinks about it the most out of anyone living in Amphoreus.

The first time he notices the evidences of that particular behavior, it has to be pointed out by someone ; you, one of his comrades or just a random person. Phainon relies on external validation to a degree, his sense of self can be altered through a strong enough comment on his personality.

The process of it developing isn't different from how it would be for anyone ; an attachment to you is secured, outside influences threaten it, he realizes a need to be in your presence more, becomes annoyed when your attention is stolen until it reaches to a point where he's actively trying to maintain it on himself alone. But the thing is, he's so swept up in all the emotions of being in love that he doesn't stop to process them all for quite some time. That's why an external call out is required.

Perhaps it would've been best if no one pointed it out to begin with, because now he's simmering in guilt and shame in his head. The Chrysos Heir is notably rigid for some time, mulling over his every action and word until he's caught in analysis paralysis. Because even if he'd like to convince himself that he's nonchalant, he cares about how you perceive him, a lot.

At the same time as this inner turmoil almost frying him, there is no notable change in his paranoia — if anything, it gets worse. The more he tries to test distance and respect for your personal time and space, the more his anxiety worsens, suddenly devoid of a medium to soothe it with. Two greeting texts increases to ten, phone calls are no longer enough, he needs to see that you're okay and safe.

At one point, a sinister thought somehow plants itself in his mind. He's lost so much ; his home, his family, his friends, his peace and his identity. But he continues sacrificing more, he continues giving up things for the sake of others, for a future marked by uncertainty. Now that there is someone who makes him happy, who he finds solace in, who he genuinely loves... he's demanded again to ‘tone it down’ when all he wants is to spend time with them? Is that not unfair to him?

And well, he brushes it off quickly — not that it completely goes away. These ideas only really torment him when he's not with you, which is another reason why separation will have a physical effect on him if it is extended to a point. Which direction all these inner conflicts and overthinking will take him towards, depends on him alone.

As for the ‘evidences’ mentioned previously, they're so him that it's honestly difficult to tell whether he's being driven by something less than innocent. He usually tends to whine and sulk to prolong your presence, gives you the doe eyes and kicked puppy look. There is also the matter with texts and calls as mentioned previously. He responds to your texts very quickly and tries to keep conversations going for as long as possible, low-key spirals if you're taking too long to respond and insists on hearing your voice, unless you tell him strongly that you aren't comfortable with it.

Is not afraid of showing physical affection in public, likes holding hands and/or linking arms with you at all times. Uses his height to his advantage as well, as in, serving as your personal shield — whether you want it or not. He doesn't really lash out at people, unless of course, they were rude to you. Given his naturally amicable personality, most people don't try to do something outrageous in front of him either. His jealousy is kind of obvious as well and since he tends to use the ‘kicked puppy method’ frequently, it can be difficult to take it seriously, to be honest. Make sure to not let your guard down though.

As for the matter of him calling you his treasure, I personally like to think that he sees his darling as above him, above everyone actually. Treasure implies towards something that was acquired and typically has a material value. Phainon is out there thanking fate and every holy being everyday for blessing him with someone like you, he struggles to even answer the question of ‘what he likes most about you’ (it's everything). He might say it out of affection in the spur of a moment once, but in his heart, your worth exceeds the notion of treasures.