#imagine trying so hard to connect to another world

[ministarfruit]

local alley cat gets beaten up (colourised)

[bbyseok]

at first sight? — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count: 10k (idek i was possessed)

banner by @/bbyseok , dividers by @/bunnysrph !!

a/n: um hi. its finally here ! thanks to all who liked the teaser, this is my first jjk/gojo fic ever but i really think everyone needs some comfort after jjk chap 261.. and fuck u gege !!

content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, nicknames ‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty’, ‘baby’, fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, slowburn??, several pov switches, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end but nothing explicit, brief swearing/explicit language, brief violence/injuries, alcohol consumption, reader gets mildly drunk but nothing else, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts

analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.

here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.

with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!

and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.

to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic!)

it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?

your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.

coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a hundred demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.

because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.

it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.

nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.

well. except for one.

gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.

even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.

his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.

after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.

satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you.

a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.

“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.

gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.

you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.

that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.

satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.

but you simply smiled up at him.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.

gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.

how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.

gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?

and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.

was it really worth it?

what if he couldn’t protect you too?

so satoru had decided on one thing that day: the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.

as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.

and never will.

your first meeting with gojo wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t something you could describe as good either. you’ve been left with the impression that he’s cocky and indifferent.

and that he doesn’t like you.

it’s been around.. two? three weeks? it’s been a while since your encounter with the white-haired sorcerer, and you’ve only seen a few glimpses of him here and there on campus.

okay, he doesn’t display any outright mean or ill intention towards you. on the very rare times the two of you do interact, he is obviously curt and clipped. seems like he’s deemed you worthy of the only either nods or one word responses.

you’ve yet to actually participate in a lesson or mission with gojo, but you prefer it that way. providing individual training and advice for the upcoming second years has been going great. at this point, you’re sure it’d only be awkward.

besides, the strongest sorcerer alive doesn’t necessarily need assistance in dealing with curses after all. that much is understandable.

you’re currently in the teachers’ lounge room with nanami. even though he isn’t actually a teacher, he pays visits sometimes. he’s good company anyway.

“it’s nice to hear that you’re settling in well,” the blonde says with a nod. he loosens his necktie absentmindedly as he adjusts the newspaper in his lap. “especially with that gojo around. he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

you frown at the mention of the sorcerer, crossing your arms. you’re seated across from nanami, watching him idly look through the newspaper.

“oh, well, actually, he isn’t too much trouble. for me, at least,” you reply, brows furrowing, “he barely talks to me.” (in fact, he seems to avoid you like you’re carrying the plague or something.)

nanami looks up, raising a brow. “huh. you should be grateful then.” he then hums, “but maybe that’ll change once there’s actually new first year students to teach. you both are assigned to them after all.”

you lean back in your seat, your shoulders committing to a halfhearted shrug. “maybe. it’s not like i never did anything bad to him though..”

nanami sighs gruffly. “don’t think about it too much.” before he can continue, there’s the sound of footsteps. nanami brings his newspaper back up, muttering, “speak of the devil.”

“nanamiiii!” gojo’s voice sounds from around the corner. it almost startles you how lively he sounds. you realize you’ve never actually heard or seen how he acts without you around.

nanami doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes.

gojo strolls in enthusiastically, blindfold on. “heyy, nanami, we should-” he cuts off when he presumably sees you, falling quiet and stopping short.

you blink, a bit hurt. does he dislike you that much? but you don’t let it show, resorting to greeting him politely like you usually do when you occasionally pass each other.

“good afternoon, gojo,” you muse, offering a little wave.

nanami notices his reaction too, but doesn’t comment on it. he continues to ignore the sorcerer’s presence in fact, eyes still roaming over the newspaper.

gojo clears his throat and resumes his pace. “afternoon,” he responds, focusing his attention back on nanami. he reaches the two of you, giving you no further acknowledgment.

you don’t care if he can see you looking at him, you opt to stare at the black blindfold covering his face. you have a hunch that he can see, or at least feel, you staring at him.

“can i borrow you for a sec, nanami?”

nanami emits an exasperated sigh, but stands nonetheless to follow gojo out of the room for some discussion not meant for your ears apparently, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

do you make gojo uncomfortable? you don’t know what you could’ve possibly done so though. from what you’ve heard from the others, he can be rather eccentric and overbearing.

does he just not like you? perhaps he views you as inferior, too below his level and power to actually converse with you. while it seems a bit of a stretch, you’re sure it’s not out of the possibility also based on what you’ve heard about him from others.

your frown returns. before you can dwell on it any longer, nanami comes back into the room. “well, i certainly see what you mean from what you said about gojo earlier,” he announces.

his words do nothing to falter your frown. “right.” you then shrug once more, “it’s okay. it’s just a bit.. strange.” you then shake your head, trying to be a bit optimistic. “but also like you said earlier, that might change! who knows?”

who knows, indeed.

megumi tucks the cursed tools inside their designated box and closes the lid. he moves on to the next one right as gojo enters the shed, beaming a smile.

“hey, megumi. you almost done wrapping up things here?” satoru asks, undoing his blindfold naturally. there’s a pair of glasses in his hand ready for use.

the teen nods. they had used a few cursed tools during training session today, and the storage did need a bit of tidying up. “almost done.”

satoru makes a noise of approval as he places his glasses on. “great! do you need help setting up your dorm room?” he looks excited at the idea, still grinning.

meanwhile, megumi looks disinterested at his offer. “no thanks. i think it’ll be easy enough. it’s not like i’m decorating it anyway.”

“oh, boo.” but gojo doesn’t insist on it any further. he actually falls strangely quiet, which causes megumi to glance at him curiously.

his teacher looks.. distraught. it’s hard to actually tell, but he seems to be looking at the floor, maybe lost in thought. before megumi can say anything, gojo’s expression changes and he starts talking again.

“you’re, uh, with the new teacher for tomorrow,” gojo then informs. he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at the floor absentmindedly. (he’s fidgeting. subtly.) “it’ll just be you two, i think, on a small mission. so they can get used to actually working with students on field. it’ll be good for the both of you.”

megumi nods. he tilts his head afterward. “you can say their name, you know. it won’t kill you,” he says a bit pointedly, “and they’re not technically new anymore. it has been a few weeks now since they’ve joined the school.”

“right, right.” megumi’s face scrunches up as gojo’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair gently. (a habit that has not died since his younger days.) “whatever you say, megumi.”

despite your minimal interactions and his rather closed off demeanor, megumi is actually one of your favorite students. (and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have favorites, but oh well.)

your mission with megumi, or rather, the mission you’ve been assigned to supervise the student on, is rather simple.

there’s been reports of a low grade curse roaming the premises of a supermarket neighboring a nearby cemetery, so megumi is to obviously exorcise it under your watch. the area has been closed off with a small veil. megumi had decided to check the parking lot first for any lingering traces, so here you are.

“i think we’re good here,” the teenager confirms as his demon dogs return to his feet, seemingly in the clear. you nod and let him lead the way towards the inside of the store.

as the two of you begin to walk down each aisle with one of the demon dogs trailing behind, megumi says your name in an inquisitive tone. “what do you think of gojo-sensei?”

the sudden question has you blinking in surprise. your eyes scan megumi as you both continue to trek down the aisle. “what makes you ask?”

“no reason.” he doesn’t meet your gaze.

you bite down on your lip in contemplation. you’re not sure what brings this question to mind for him, but you’re willing to indulge him for now. “well.. i think he’s.. alright.” you pause. “as a sorcerer, i admire his strength. though, i think a lot of people think that obviously.”

“and as a person?” megumi presses, turning to investigate the next aisle. he still doesn’t glance over to you, still preoccupied with searching for the curse.

(hell, for a teenager, he sure is perceptive.)

you choose your words carefully, thinking it over with a brief pause.

“i’ll admit, i don’t think i know him well enough to be sure. as a person, i think he’s.. self-centered and rude. sometimes, i see him act very carefree in a way. he’s.. obscure, i guess.” you clear your throat and reiterate, “but again, i don’t really... know him.”

you can see megumi go over your words silently. the quiet continues. the conversation seems to be dying, but it doesn’t matter when monstrous gurgling sounds up ahead.

a curse appears in front of you, the shelving of the aisles toppling over as it gargles some unintelligible roar. megumi doesn’t hesitate, using his technique to summon his demon dogs once more to swiftly engage in combat.

the fight is easily handled in three minutes top. (they weren’t kidding when they said it’d be easy.)

after the commotion has settled, you allow megumi to do one more check up around the store just in case. just as you are prepared to exit and bring down the veil, you decide it’s your turn to ask him now.

“and what about you, megumi?” you inquire lightly, giving one of the demon dogs a few head pats for their good work. “what exactly do you think of gojo?”

megumi hums.

“i agree with most of what you said actually,” he answers honestly, causing you to chuckle in amusement. the teenager tilts his head and finally looks at you. “but i also think he’s kind when he wants to be.”

his frontward honesty surprises you once more. this kid sure is something. you believe his words; he has no reason to lie to you, especially about gojo of all things. still, you poke at him teasingly, “really now?”

you don’t really expect him to answer, but then megumi says in a mumble so quiet that you nearly miss it.

“well, he did sort of raise me after all.”

“i just don’t think he likes me, shoko,” you puff out a sigh, watching as she puffs out smoke. “i’ve seen the way he is around other people, and he’s not like that with me.”

she’s on break right now, so you thought you could talk to her about a certain blindfolded sorcerer who’s been plaguing your thoughts.

it’s interesting to hear about the different sides of gojo satoru from your peers. from nanami, you’ve learned that he’s pretentious and troublesome. from megumi, that he can be caring in his own way. and shoko?

“he’s crazy.” the doctor waves her cigarette at you with a shrug of her shoulders. “but it beats me on why he doesn’t particularly like you.”

you groan, slouching in one of the chairs set up in the infirmary. “maybe i should’ve stayed in kyoto,” you mumble. it’s more of a joke than anything; your.. weird terms with gojo isn’t enough to actually deter you.

but shoko puts the cigarette back to her lips and tilts her head. “want me to ask him about it?”

you straighten your posture abruptly and look at her. “what? you don’t have to. he might think i asked you to or something.”

she shrugs again. “your call.”

your brows furrow. “maybe we just got off on the wrong foot somehow. even though all i did was shake his hand.” you snort. “maybe i can get him something to break the ice. what does he like?”

shoko doesn’t even hesitate. “sweets. he likes his sweets.”

oh. oh, okay! you blink and nod. who would’ve thought? the strongest sorcerer in the world likes sweets. “i can handle sweets.”

you, in fact, cannot handle sweets.

why are there so many? you’re at a local bakery staring at the rows and rows of pastries they have on display, looking as if you’re trying the decipher the world’s hardest math problem.

shoko never specified what kind of sweets he liked during your conversation with her a couple days ago. cake? ice cream? cookies? you might as well buy the whole damn store at this point with your luck. the last thing you want is to buy him something he won’t actually eat.

“oh, fuck it,” you mutter and finally decide on a small piece of cake. it happens to be your favorite kind of cake, but oh well. if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it! it’s the thought that matters anyway, right?

as you exit the shop with your newly acquired dessert, you try to devise a way to give it to him. do you just.. hand it to him? or maybe it’ll be better to leave it in his office. or have shoko give it to him!

ughh, who knew how hard it’d be to give a man a cake? okay, okay. you’ll simply give it to him in person since he’ll know it’s directly from you. problem solved.

well, actually, problem is not solved. how are you supposed to give the cake to gojo in person when you have absolutely no clue where he is right now? after returning to the school, he’s no where to be found, so you eventually turn to yaga for help.

“he’s on a mission where??”

you stare at yaga with wide eyes as he names some city so far away you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find an affordable ride to get you there in a reasonable amount of time.

“oh, alright,” you say, feeling a little disappointed. the cake suddenly feels a little too big and heavy in your hands.

the principal’s gaze flickers down to your little intended treat for his former student. “these kinds of missions are no trouble for satoru. i’m sure he’ll be back soon, so you can leave that in his office.”

you brighten up at that and nod. “thank you, yaga.” you then dismiss yourself with a polite bow after he informs you where gojo’s office is exactly, and you start to make your way there.

it’s only a few minutes until you get there. you open the door and catch sight of a desk. it looks rather plain, which is understandable since it doesn’t seem like he uses this space often. (though, there is a chair that looks more expensive than your entire rent.)

either way, you walk inside and set the container down on the desk with a small sigh. hopefully the gesture is appreciated! if he really does have a sweet tooth like shoko says, you’re not sure why he’d turn it down. again, you can only hope.

you sigh again and turn to leave when the sound of the door creaking open sounds again. you freeze in place when it swings out fully, revealing the very man you were thinking about.

(yaga was not kidding when he said that gojo finishes his missions pretty fast.)

gojo perks up at the sight of you in his office, and even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s got a surprised look on his face. “can i help you.. or do you have a reason on why you’re snooping around in my office?” he inquires, walking in.

while not evidently hostile, his appearance and words suddenly have you anxious. “oh, well, i-’’ you want to mentally smack yourself for fumbling over your words. “i’m sorry for intruding. i, uh, just wanted to leave you a little something.”

it’s only then does gojo look past you and makes a small noise. you can’t really decipher it, but you watch as he walks by you to open the small packaging to see the slice of cake meant for him.

and when he makes a small noise again, you can tell it’s one of delight. “you got me.. cake?” he asks, looking to you again questioningly.

“i did,” you clarify with a small nod, summoning a small smile and rubbing the back of your neck a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know what kind of sweet you would like, so i just ended up choosing my favorite cake. um, i really hope you don’t mind the flavor, but if you don’t you really don’t have to eat it so-”

“kikufuku.”

you stare at him, confused. “what?”

“kikufuku,” satoru reiterates, and it’s his turn to smile. (it nearly catches you off guard because although very small, it’s pretty.) “s’my favorite. or.. one of my favorite sweets. crepes are good too.”

his newfound friendliness has you smiling a bit more evidently, pleased that this interaction is your most pleasant one with him so far in the weeks you’ve been here. “oh, okay,” you chuckle, “noted.”

gojo opens the container and unwraps the plastic fork that had came with it. he takes a bite of the cake and hums in approval. “can see why it’s your favorite. it’s not bad.”

your face lightens up at that. “oh, i’m glad.”

he hums, popping another slice of cake into his mouth. “any particular reason on why you’ve decided to give me cake, if i may ask?”

you falter once more, now nervous in telling that you’re hoping to.. resolve this one-sided tension with you. ultimately, you decide to be straightforward, inhaling deeply and looking at him. (well, his blindfold.)

“well, i’m not an idiot, gojo. you haven’t exactly been.. friendly to me. i’m not trying to win you over or anything, but if we’re going to work together with the first year students, consider this a gift for a truce. or um, a peace offering so we can act somewhat decent with each other.”

the white-haired sorcerer falls silent at your confrontation. you’re half expecting him to brush you off and walk out of the room entirely. especially since he seems to have stiffen up (similarly to the way when you first met, you had noticed).

he seems to contemplate for a bit. you don’t know where he’s looking at; the floor, the cake in his hands, you? it’s suddenly nerve-wracking.

“you’re right,” he finally speaks up, “i.. i’m sorry for my previous behavior towards you. can we start over?” he places the cake aside and walks back over to you to hold out his hand.

“gojo satoru.”

your eyes flicker to his blindfold to his hand, then back to where his eyes are hidden underneath. the rumored powerful and breaktaking six eyes concealed from your ever so curious sight.

against your better judgment, you repeat your name and take his hand.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo.”

your new relationship with gojo is steadily becoming better. he’s no longer curt with you, and actually engages in conversations even with no other people around.

though, you can’t help but feel like he’d avoiding looking at you for some reason. which is pretty far off since you can’t technically see where he’s looking, but it’s a hunch you have nonetheless.

but hey, it’s progress, progress that you’re somewhat happy about.

like now, as satoru leans over your shoulder to peer at the clipboard in your hands. you’ve just finished wrapping up a lesson with the soon-to-be second years out on the field.

“ooh, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, teach?” he pries.

“assistant teach,” you remind him teasingly, going over the contents of the clipboard. “more sparring. oh, and the registration for that new first year.”

“the one from the countryside?” gojo hums.

you nod. “yep. a.. kugasaki nobara. we won’t actually get to meet her, but arrangements for her arrival are getting finalized.”

“oh, boo. s’just more paperwork,” the sorcerer beside you whines, kicking at the grass.

“at least megumi isn’t the only one now,” you point out and finally turn to him.

just as you expected, satoru glances away to look at panda and toge finishing up. you squint at him narrowly but don’t comment on it.

“that’s true. not like that kid cares anyway, but it’ll be good for him,” gojo agrees airily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

you eye him. “hey, gojo?”

“yeah?” his head remains turned to the students. (further proving your point! you feel like you’re collecting evidence here; the gojo satoru cannot look at you in the eye!)

you hesitate. “wanna grab some kikufuku?”

he perks up at that. (like a puppy, really. it almost makes you laugh.) “mm, whatever happened to not trying to win me over with sweets?” he teases.

you laugh at that then, shaking your head in soft denial. “no- that’s not what i-”

“well, you did said kikufuku.." satoru interrupts you with a dramatic sigh and heave of his shoulders, “so how could i ever possibly resist?”

satoru doesn’t dare to look down at you.

“care to join me?”

but you smile up at him cheekily, and he hates the way the sunlight is hitting your features just right. it looks like the color of your eyes is glistening.

you’re just.. lying down on the grass of one of the training fields, admiring the drifting formations of white clouds on the blue canvas that is the sky.

satoru keeps telling himself that shouldn’t be doing this. his first mistake was accepting your cake. allowing himself to get closer to you. but when you look at him like that, he feels like he can do anything. which is odd, becaues really, he can do anything. it goes without saying as his status as the strongest.

but with you, it’s starting to feel a bit different.

when he doesn’t give you an immediate answer, you tilt your head and continue to blink up at him. “you can see the sky even with your blindfold on, right?”

he snorts. “yeah, i can.”

you pat the space on the grass next to you welcomingly, a beckoning that he just can’t resist again. “well, come on and join me,” you persist.

he hesitates, shifting his weight on his legs for a moment. against his better judgement, he joins you. it’s surprisingly comfortable, he finds, as he kicks out his legs and sighs.

it’s a comfortable silence that it’s almost startling. how easy it is just to be around you. (which is the exact reason why he had been avoiding you in the start, in fear of slipping up around you. he still might.)

“you get headaches, right? if you don’t cover your eyes.”

he chuckles at your question. “yeah.” it’s a half truth, half lie. he does get headaches, but for another reason now. you can’t get out of his head. (he’s got a suspicious feeling it’s because the soulmate bond is incomplete. but again, that’s just a theory of his.)

“‘m’sorry. that sucks.” you pout subconscously, still looking up at the sky to admire it.

he scoffs fondly, clapsing his hands over his stomach. “it’s no biggie. you think headaches can take down gojo satoru?”

“hey now, tough guy. they can take down me sometimes.”

(he’d fight off headaches from you if he could.) his heart is thudding against his ribcage, warning him. but he doesn’t heed the warning, and continues to lay down with you on the grass.

it’s a nice feeling. he doesn’t feel like the greatest sorcerer in the world with his colleague. it feels like he’s just satoru, pointing out the different shapes and animals you can spot in the sky with his soulmate.

“hey, that one looks like you!”

“hah?!”

“i’m guessing you and gojo-sensei are getting along now,” megumi bluntly comments.

it catches you off guard slightly, and you can’t help but laugh. (of course he had noticed how the both of you interacted from the beginning.) “oh, uh, yeah.”

and as you watch satoru go down the steps of the stairs to head over to you both whilst waving an arm with much more enthusiam than needed, you can’t help but smile.

“yeah, we are.”

this is a mistake. he shouldn’t be doing this.

but satoru can’t help but be so selfish, selfish in indulging in your looks, in your scarce touches. when you had confronted him with your peace offering as you had so called it, he had given in.

and now he’s spending more time with you. be it after lessons with the students, on random days where you have nothing to do, during weekends when there’s no authorities to bother him—he can’t help it.

was it the bond wanting to be complete? you were still unaware of his true identity, of what he could possibly mean to you, so why does he feel like he needs to be so close? he gets antsy at times when you’re not in his sight. it’s starting to affect him.

the soulmate bond, or lack of it—that has to be the only explanation for it. because he knows that you’re his soulmate, he’s subconsciously drawn to you and your presence. (it’s definitely not because he likes the way you smile, or laugh, or-)

fuck.

after a relatively tough mission, you’re obviously sent to see shoko. you’re not fatally harmed, maybe a scratch here and there. and okay, maybe a gash on your shoulder..

it had been enough to sort of knock you off your feet, but you’re fine. totally. exorcising a semi grade two curse at 1 a.m. in the morning was no biggie at this point.

once she’s finished tending to your wound, she dusts off her hands and places them on her hips. “you’re all set.”

you smile gratefully. “thanks, sho. can always count you to patch me up.”

she snorts. “well, it is my job.”

gojo suddenly appears right next to the table and you yelp, startled by his teleportation. shoko, on the other hand, looks unfazed, as if she’s used to this.

“gojo!” you blink, your voice taking a scolding tone soon after, “geez, you scared me! what’re you still doing awake??”

the blindfolded man falters, looking apologetic. “sorry. heard you got back from your mission.” he sounds worried, but before he can voice his concern, shoko rolls her eyes.

“they’ll be fine,” she says.

gojo’s shoulders finally drop down and he plays off his previous display of concern with a laugh. “ahaha, yeahhh, i knew that,” he scoffs with a wave of his hand, “i can’t bless you two with my presence?”

shoko gives him a displeased look before she turns around to tidy up her tools. you chuckle at her annoyance. “thanks for checking up on me, satoru,” you say sincerely. your eyes go over his appearance; he’s dressed more casually: a pair of dark slacks and shirt that expose his collarbones. not that you’re.. particularly looking.

but his shoulders seem tense again at your words and he hums quietly. (huh, strange. at least he’s not refusing to look at you anymore, you think.)

“well, i say this calls for a little celebration,” satoru suddenly purrs in delight, waving his hands in the air.

“celebration? for me getting kinda beat up?” you blow a raspberry at him, only for him to blow one at you right back. even though you had done it first, you can’t help but giggle at his childish antics.

he grins at that, then shakes his head. “heyy, i heard you beat up a semi grade two curse!” he says, “i think that does call for a celebration, does it not?”

you stare at him, unsure on whether he’s joking or not. wait, how did he even know that? well, maybe he had gone through the mission reports and assignments. still, you’re surprised that he knows. “you can wipe those out in less than a minute, gojo,” you point out with a raised brow, “don’t try and humor me.”

his grin lessens. “well, yeah, s’kinda easy for me, but i think that goes without saying. you’re telling me don’t wanna celebrate an accomplishment of yours?”

you look to shoko who is almost finished with cleaning up. she just shrugs. you look back to satoru and shrug yourself whilst rolling your eyes. “alright, we can celebrate.”

gojo fist bumps the air. and here you are again, giggling at him.

eventually, when he leads you out of the infirmary and to the teachers’ lounge. he digs through one of the fridges and hands you a bottle of what seems to be alcohol.

“i didn’t even know this was allowed here,” you mumble, settling down on what of the high chairs near the counter. you wiggle in your seat to get comfortable as gojo takes the one next to you.

you offer it to him but he shakes his head, nose scrunching up a little. “i don’t drink.”

“wasn’t this your idea?” you blink. “suit yourself, more for me.” you shrug and open the bottle to pour yourself a glass. and another. and another. and then another.

(you don’t know what particularly drives you to keep drinking as you talk with him, but perhaps it’s the way you know that satoru’s eyes are lingering just underneath the blindfold. you can practically feel his stare.)

and gojo watches you gradually drink yourself to being mildly drunk.

“okay, no more for you,” he laughs as he takes the bottle away from you and holding it above your head when you try to reach for it.

“awh, man.” you pout and rest your head on your arms on the table, looking at him the best you can. “you meanie. you got me drunk on purpose. give it back.”

he snickers, amused and endeared by your drunk antics as he pushes the bottle aside. “sorry. you’ll thank me later, pretty.”

pretty. he’s never called you that before. you wanna hear him say it again. (amongst some other things.)

“pretty.. you’re pretty. i bet your eyes are pretty too,” you say into your sleeve, your other hand reaching out to his blindfold, “everyone else says they’re v’ry pretty.”

he leans back to avoid your hand, heart pounding in his chest a little too loud for his liking. he wonders if you can hear it. “sure. i guess they are,” he says softly with a small chuckle.

“i wonder who my soulmate is,” you then mumble out. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s your incoherent slurring, but you sound.. sad.

before he can dwell on it, you’re slurring out another question that has come to your head.

“d’you have a soulmate?”

satoru’s eyes widen under the blindfold. he knows that you’re drunk. that you’re just saying things. but your hazy eyes stare up at him with a glint that makes his heart lurch.

and you won’t remember a thing in the morning, right?

before he can answer, you’re out like a light.

you wake up in the morning with a splitting headache.

with a groan, you sit up in what seems to be a bed that seems way to be to be your own, legs kicking the sheets that had been draped over you in alarm.

you have no idea where you are, but there’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on the nightstand beside you, which you down gratefully. there’s also the smell of food coming from outside the room.

you can piece two and two together that you’re probably in the home of someone you know.. your brain racks for information of what had happened last night but it’s only causing it to ache even more.

gojo.

you shake your head and make your way to what seems to be the bathroom to tidy yourself up. you notice that your’re still clad in your clothes of last night, so gojo had done the courtesy of tucking you in.

after you’re done, you take a deep breath and head outside.

you navigate your way down the hallway and follow the smell of food. as you turn the corner, you catch the sight of satoru in the kitchen. not that you doubted that the greatest sorcerer could cook, but for some reason, he looks so domestic.

he’s simply wearing sweats and a loose fitting shirt, your back turned to you as he tends to the stove, but the mere sight of it has your heart leaping into your throat. you have a feeling that it’s a sight meant for you, for you to see.

you don’t no how long you stand there, but suddenly a laugh rings through the kitchen from satoru teasingly. “take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

you yelp, embarrassed. (sweetheart? you try not to think about it, but you hate the way it makes your heart leap again. he’s just.. messing with you.) “erm.. sorry. good morning, gojo.” you approach the kitchen and take a seat at the counter.

when he finally turns to you, he’s not wearing his usual black blindfold, but instead what seems to be white bandages. you haven’t seen it on him before, but you don’t comment on it though.

he says good morning back before serving you some food, which you thank him for gratefully. “thank you for the painkillers too. i didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did i?” you inquire, half jokingly.

you try to remember what had happened last night, but your memories are still a bit hazy. all you can recall is talking with him about things and staring at him. (you’re not going to tell him that though.)

“nah,” he waves off, “just told me your darkest secrets, s'all.”

you straighten up. “what?”

“kidding, kidding!” he snickers.

you groan and drag your plate to you. “i didn’t know you could cook.”

satoru looks mildly offended, emitting a dramatic gasp as he waves the spatula at you in a petulant manner. “hey now, i’m no expert. but i can at least make some sort of breakfast.”

(he totally did not look up a tutorial on how to cook for you. definitely not. but he’s a natural at everything, so at least his naturally gifted skill is in his favor this time.)

“thank you, gojo.” a smile tugs at the edges of your mouth.

“satoru.”

“what?”

“c’mon, you’re literally eating breakfast in my kitchen,” he laughs, sliding a mug of coffee (probably with extra cream and sugar because it’s gojo) towards you across the counter. “satoru’s fine.”

you test the name on your tongue, paying little attention to the way it makes the man before you stiffen up as you grab the coffee. “satoru.. thanks, satoru.” you think you can get used to saying that.

(he does too.)

satoru turns away back to the stove. “you’re welcome.”

“hey satoru, what did you say what you wanted again? i’m thinking bubble tea but i dunno..”

he likes the way his name sounds from you.

“uh, satoru? satoru? helloo, earth to gojo satoru? satoru!”

oh.

fuck, he hadn’t realized he had spaced out. gojo lifts his head in a sudden motion, making a surprised noise. he smiles sheepishly. “what’s up?”

“you feeling alright, satoru?” you tilt your head.

keep saying his name.

“awhh, i’m feeling more than alright, sweetheart.” he shoots you a grin, liking the way your eyes reflect the café lights, giving it a warm hue. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“you seem to be in a good mood lately,” megumi points out. ijichi, in the front see, looks at the two of them through the rear view in silent agreement.

(a lot of people have noticed actually.)

gojo pauses, halfway through unwrapping the plastic of a popsicle. it’s the same one he used to consume during his youth, but his taste really hasn’t changed after all this time. “oh?”

the teenager eyes him narrowly. “yeah.”

gojo merely hums and pops the icy treat into his mouth.

“heh, i guess i am.”

you can hear gojo and shoko’s voices coming from the infirmary, causing you to smile absentmindedly. you didn’t think you’d be enjoying their company this much in the recent months—especially satoru’s.

(strangely, it feels so natural to be around him, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same. you try to write it off as spending so much time together for a while now, but you can’t lie when you say he doesn’t make the stomach churn with butterflies.)

you turn the corner and announce your presence to the two with a smile and wave. you catch sight of them when they glance over to you, noticing something different.

shoko is wearing her usual white coat with a cigarette in hand, but she’s got her hair tied up in a rare bun to keep any strands from her face.

but that’s not what’s different as your gaze strays to the man next to her, the familiar frame of gojo catching you a bit off guard.

he’s wearing his glasses.

you’ve never seen him wear anything but his blindfold.

how does he look even more breathtaking than without it? you can’t see his eyes still, no—it’s a deep, deep shade of blue that still blocks his gaze from anyone else. but it’s a more casual look, seeing as his hair isn’t being help up and a few strands fall down and you can see his sharp facial features a bit more and-

and then he’s gone.

you audibly make a sound of confusion and hurt, because one moment he’s there and the next he’s no where to be seen. he had vanished without a single world.

he’s fucking avoiding you again; the realization of it makes your throat close up. after all you had been through with satoru.

“what the fuck was that?”

shoko stares at the space gojo had just been standing, just as lost as you.

there’s a distance between the two of you again. it’s painstakingly familiar to when you had first met gojo and he had kept himself strictly professional with you.

and you don’t know why.

it’s back to the cold shoulder from him; you’re seeing him less and less around campus, and those times where you did hang out off duty are practically a thing of the past now.

satoru is going to be the death of you one day, you’re sure of it.

and you and satoru aren’t even.. a thing.

then again, you’re not even sure what you are. you’re friends, yes, that’s much more than clear, but why does it feel so much more intimate than that despite the fact that the two of you have never even done anything?

however.. a part of you knows that you want more. more of those days lying in the grass with him, more of those mornings eating breakfast with him in his home, more of those afternoon café runs, more of everything with satoru.

is that why does it hurts so much now that he’s pushed you away again?

satoru is praying that you’re not in there with shoko as he approaches the infirmary a week later. she had called him over, and though he could’ve easily refused, he found himself obliging anyway.

“hey, what was that the other day?”

shoko is blunt and straight to the point once he arrived, striking him with a petulant and expectant gaze with her tired eyes.

gojo blinks innocently, tilting his head at shoko. “what was what?”

shoko then rolls her eyes. “you know what i’m talking about. what was that. you just- walked out like they we’re going to kill you or something.”

that’s the thing. you just might.

the white-haired man frowns and continues to feign innocence. he’s starting to wonder why he bothered coming here. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

his avoidance causes shoko to frown as well and she crosses her arms. “you’re doing the same thing that you did with them when they first joined here.”

when he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “avoiding them, pushing them away. i thought you didn’t have any problems with them. at this point, make up your mind because you’re just toying with their feelings and it’s not going to-”

“we’re soulmates,” satoru blurts out.

shoko is cut off, staring at him all wide-eyed for once. “you’re kidding.”

satoru falters. “i’m not. s’why i always wear the blindfold. and that’s why i.. i ran that night. just my glasses was too risky.”

what if he had angled his head the wrong way, what if you saw his eyes, what if you finally realized that you were fated to be together at the whims of the universe? he couldn’t do that to you.

“how long have you-”

“since we first met. i.. i could see it because of six eyes,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why. i didn’t think i could have another one after-”

the two fall quiet at the mention of suguru, a heavy feeling hanging in the air between them.

“what are you going to do?” shoko asks quietly.

satoru sounds wrecked. “..i don’t know.”

“well.” shoko smushes her cigarette against the surface of the metal table. “you better do something before it’s too late.”

unfortunately, the higher ups have also noticed.

(the push and pull that has been going on between the pride of the gojo clan and a random transferred sorcerer from kyoto. nothing goes unseen by their tight hold on jujutsu society.)

and you are none the wiser when you’re an assigned a mission late so at night, at a secluded edge of tokyo. you would’ve questioned it, but after looking over the details, it seems easy enough since it was a low level curse.

ijichi drops you off near the location and bids you luck. the night is dark, with the shape of the moon only peaking out every now and then due to the clouds to offer minimum light, and then the veil is coming up.

it’s fine though, as you start walking to get this over with. the faster, the better.

what the fuck? the cursed energy here is much stronger than you had anticipated, almost as if it’s suffocating. now uneasy, you continue your search with more caution.

a low growl sounds from somewhere behind you, and you turn on heel to brace yourself in case the curse decides to catch you off guard with an unexpected attack.

your heart drops.

it’s a grade one curse.

something’s not right.

satoru can feel it. he can sense it in the air. something is lingering, a presence that makes even him feel uneasy, and he doesn’t know why. nothing makes him feel uneasy. but it’s a gut feeling, it’s the bond tugging and tugging and-

you.

something’s not right.

and then gojo is teleporting and finding ijichi in record time, giving the poor man a scare. gojo’s voice is on edge and leaves no room for argument as he demands the assistant director where he had driven you minutes prior. the veil still stands, undisturbed.

fuck, fuck, fuck- shoko was right. he should’ve done something before it was too late, because now it might actually be too late as he steps through the veil.

it’s too quiet for his liking, but the lingering silence only lasts for a few heartbeats before he hears you scream.

you’re going to die.

you don’t want to think that, but you’re definitely not going to make it out of this unscathed as you dodge the curse’s scarily accurate attacks, as if it knows where you’re going to move and land.

the curse screeches out something ugly, and you’re too stunned to react in time as one of its malformed limbs swings down with a speed that you can’t comprehend.

your throat cries for help even as the air out of your lungs, but then there’s the sudden brilliant flash of red that blinds your vision.

satoru?

you can’t see and your body aches everywhere while the sounds of the curse fade out. it’s replaced by the sound of someone speaking frantically. it is satoru as he crouches down at you, hands coming to lift you up gently. his infinity is off. “hey, hey it’s me,” he voices, “it’s me, sweetheart.”

satoru, it’s satoru. satoru is here.

you emit a sigh of relief, cloudy vision gradually focusing. you try and focus it on satoru, tracing over his features repeatedly, trying to engrave it into your memory.

“shit. those damn higher ups,” gojo grits his teeth into an angered scowl. the higher ups? were they behind this? you don’t know, but you know that you’ve ever seen him this furious before. “i am going to rip those old geezers apart limb from li-”

“satoru, we need to head back.”

he looks dazed, tufts of snowy hair now hanging a bit loosely over his blindfold compared to when it’s normally pushed upright. he even sounds dazed, the great gojo satoru, when he says, “yeah. yeah, okay.”

he’s holding on to you tight and suddenly everything seems to get blurry for less than a second before you blink. you realize he’s teleported you both not to the school, not to shoko’s infirmary, but to his penthouse.

the interior is at least familiar: white walls, a little messy, a couple of decorations, and—

“my place,” he clarifies, as if he had read your thoughts. he sets you down on his couch, uncaring if you’re staining the color of the cushions. but he doesn’t let go, hands still cradling your form so tight that you don’t know if you’re still shaking or that he is.

“are you okay?” you utter out weakly and scan him for any injuries while clutching at his arms, which is ridiculous because he’s untouchable. but you’re not in the right mind right now, and you have a feeling he isn’t either.

“i should be the one asking you that,” he retorts, and you also have the feeling he’s doing the same thing with you with the help of his six eyes.

“i’m alright,” you try to reassure him with a small shake of your head. it only aids you in wincing, but the pain is the last thing on your mind. especially with him here. “it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine,” he argues, his hold tightening even more on you, if that was even possible. is that a slight tremor in his voice? “you almost died.”

“and why do you care?” it’s not a malicious question from you. it’s more of confusion, of genuine. after all you’ve been through with satoru, you’re not sure where he stands. what he feels.

he seems startled by your question, like he can’t believe you could ask such a thing. “of course i care! why-”

you clench your fists in your lap, eyes tracing over his face repeatedly. “i don’t know what you want anymore from me, satoru! you’re not- you’re not telling me the truth.”

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you hoarsely. god, you wish you could see what he’s thinking. what’s going on in that head of his.

“you did hurt me.”

gojo trembles. “i know.”

“you seem to know a lot of things.” your voice sounds tired. your hand goes to rest on his chest, where you can faintly feel his heartbeat underneath. (oh, to be the only one who can touch gojo satoru like this.) “what are you hiding from me?”

“i can’t hide anything from you.” he draws a slow intake of breath. he then whispers,

“but how am i supposed to tell you that we’re soulmates?”

your heart skips a beat.

gojo satoru is your soulmate?

astonished, you now stare at him with wide eyes. “why- why didn’t you tell me??” you ask, voice cracking. to think, all this time, your soulmate had been right there, right beside you, right in front of you.

then it all clicks. his off-standish behavior, his reluctant interactions, his avoidance. his blindfold. he didn’t want you to see his eyes.

he’s known all this time somehow—and oh, oh. his six eyes. your lips part in realization as you stare hard, as if you could see his damned eyes beneath the cloth that hides you from the truth.

“i thought that if you knew that we were soulmates, you’d-” satoru shakes his head. “something always happens to the people i love.” he hesitates, “you still have a chance. you can find someone else.”

“what if i don’t want someone else??” you say out softly in protest, gripping the lapels of his uniform.

gojo shakes his head again. despite this, he doesn’t let you go. like he can’t, like he doesn’t want to. “we’re not bonded yet,” he says your name shakily, “please.”

still gripping the collar of his uniform, you tug him closer to you desperately. it’s so clear, so obvious that he wanted this.

“satoru, have you thought about what i wanted?” you breathe out, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “that maybe, there’s a chance that i want to take the risk? that i want to be bonded to you?”

your eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily. “that i want you too?”

satoru’s breath stutters.

“you haven’t seen my eyes.”

you cup satoru’s face in your hands, swiping your thumb under the space where his eye is hidden with a fierce tenderness that makes him listen.

“satoru, i didn’t need to see your eyes to fall in love with you.”

your confession has him stilling.

(all the times he had stiffened up in your presence, he had been falling for you, bit by bit. you know that now.)

his hand comes to cover yours, the one that’s still resting on his cheek, fingers smoothing over your knuckles. and then his hand continues to go up, up, up, and-

he tugs the blindfold up and over his head, revealing his eyes to you at last.

his eyes are gorgeous, a blue that seems to spill into your vision and take over your senses. a blue that you can get lost in, a blue that reminds you of the summer sky, a blue that tethers your soul to his, and you both can feel it.

the bond between you is so electrifying that you nearly forget how to breathe.

and then satoru is surging forward, closer, even closer, until your breath is his and you forget how to breathe for a whole different reason entirely.

he’s kissing you.

he kisses you like you might disappear right before him, his head angling into yours to capture your lips with a force that makes your world spin.

and you return it tenfold, one hand still cradling his face while the other sneaks to dig its fingers into his undercut, and he’s making a noise into your mouth with fervor.

you’re all too aware of his heat against you, the frantic touches he’s now giving into as he draws you closer. the surface of the sofa dissipates into nothingness and then-

suddenly he’s teleporting you both again—or maybe he’s kissing you dizzy. but you realize you’re now in space that’s not overly familiar with you, but you can tell it’s most likely his bedroom based off of the feel of the lush satin sheets underneath you.

less than an hour ago you were fighting for your life, and now you’re fighting for your life on gojo satoru’s bed.

“satoru, s’toru, wait-” you’re gasping for air, for something as he engulfs you with his presence. he’s everywhere all at once, and it feels as if the bond is intensifying everything he’s doing to you.

“nuh uh. think we’ve both waited long enough for this, baby,” he gasps against your lips, like it’s impossible to be separated from you again, “don’t know how much i wanted this, wanted you. drove me crazy.”

his words makes your head all fuzzy. you don’t even know if it’s the bond anymore, or just the way he makes you feel. maybe even both. your lungs feeling like they’re burning, but even then, you manage to get out,

“you have me, ‘toru, you have me.”

“yeah?” when he pulls back, it’s not even a few inches, his nose brushing against yours. his alluring eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, and you’re almost so mad that you feel like kissing him again because he’s kept them from you for so long.

your hands hook over his neck again. when your fingers run over his undercut again, you can actually feel him shiver, causing you to giggle in delight. “yeah, ‘toru.”

“yeah, pretty,” he sighs out and he’s losing himself in everything that is you once more so willingly. your eyes, your very being, compels him to give you everything, so he does. “y’have me too. all of me.”

his confession rings through your ears before he’s kissing you again, kissing you breathless. it’s a blur on what happens next; feverish touches and passionate symphonies, but one thing’s for sure,

the magnetic glow of his eyes in the dark of that night is something that you’ll never forget.

as your stir amongst the tousled bedsheets, you can feel the warmth of a certain someone creeping over you, like a cozy cat searching for cuddles.

your eyes peer open to meet the blurry sight of the ceiling, along with the sight of messy white hair tickling your chin.

“good morning to you, sweetheart,” a voice says cheekily, followed by cascading kisses down your jawline, prompting you to giggle softly.

you watch sunlight spill over into the bedroom, engulfing the man above you in an angelic glow as he finally pulls back to look down at you.

so maybe you didn’t fall in love at first sight with gojo satoru.

that’s okay.

cause as you stare up into your soulmate’s pretty ceruleans in the morning light, you think you can fall in love with him like this a little more.

BONUS!

“you owe me.”

nanami drags a hand over his face as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. “this is the first and last time i make a bet with you,” he grumbles.

shoko merely smirks. “you have such little faith in gojo.”

“bet or not, can we go back to before they were together?” nanami looks like he’s close to investing in a pair of one of gojo’s glasses that can block any normal person’s vision.

satoru is clinging onto you like a sloth.

“babyyyyy,” your boyfriend whines, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your torso. you can’t help but giggle, endeared by his clinginess. (he had claimed it was to make up for the way he had acted in the past and for lost time.)

he’s like another part of you now. not that you mind. being his soulmate is everything and more—from the tender touches to the passionate ones, to the talks of everything: to the mundane to the serious. after all, your soul is his, and his soul is yours.

(and then his hands are sneaking off to places they shouldn’t be.)

“‘toru, not here!”

nanami heaves out another sigh as his hand comes to pinch the bridge of his nose. “is it too late to quit being a sorcerer again?”

TAGLIST : @spn-obession , @deepestartisanhumanoidshark , @scarasw1f3 , @kalopsia-flaneur , @90s-belladonna , @peachipeachy , @chrystinaamanda , @kalulakunundrum , @hunnyheavenn , @dekusdante , @dontmindmelove , @cherries-lostgirls , @rv19 , @etherealstarlightqueen

+ a/n: this fic ended up being way no longer than i expected omg.. but thanks to all who asked to be on the taglist !! some didnt work so im sorry about that </3

like this fic? feel free to go ahead and check out my other works here! -> masterlist

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

hihihi!!!! i loveee the way u write angst!!!! could i please request a reader taking a fatal blow for jason? like some self sacrifice where reader protects jay? ahhh i just imagine the desperation and him running himself ragged to save reader before it ends with comfort!! thanks soso much! i hope u have a great week🩷

Set In Place

Hi, nonnie! Thank you, hope you enjoy! ~1.7k words

Slight miscommunication, but it's in the way they don't know how to talk to each other about feelings.

You weren't always a vigilante. You never planned on it, never wanted it. But when Jason Todd died you couldn't sit still, couldn't do nothing while the monsters that caused you to lose your best friend, your boyfriend, your first love, ran rampant.

You trained and trained until you were a shell of yourself. Until you and Bruce were both on a warpath that would only end with two more graves.

That was, until Tim came into your lives. Things got better, not much, but better. You learned to smile again, learned to soften your edges when you talked to the growing number of vigilantes patrolling Gotham's streets.

It scared you, sometimes, seeing kids no older than him fly around in the colors he died in. So you worked harder, got better, swore with everything you were and wouldn't be again that there will never be another dead Robin.

And then he came back. Jason– Red Hood, he called himself. It sends your world into a tailspin. You watch him become Gotham's most feared crime lord, you watch him leave all of that behind to become a hero. You watch as he slowly finds his place alongside his family.

You're just not exactly sure of what his place with you is. You patrol with him, you work with him. It's an awkward, unpracticed partnership, and you're sure he feels the same. You've told Bruce you don't want to work with Jason time and time again.

It's not that you don't miss him, don't feel envy at how easily he seemed to fall back into a routine with everyone else, it's just hard.

Hard when you catch him staring.

You know you must be unrecognizable to him, no longer the younger, civilian version of you. Hardened by the horrors of Gotham, scarred and calloused hands where skin used to be soft.

Bruce apparently didn't care about your complaints, because you find yourself on patrol with Red Hood more often than not. It's the same tonight, the two of you paired up to stake out some warehouse expecting a gun shipment for Falcone.

You can't help but watch him from the corner of your eye, he's different too, now. Bigger, sturdier, and willing to kill. A part of you wishes you had the courage to tell him that it doesn't make you hate him. That you miss him, and that nothing can change that part of your heart that's always been his.

You're tugged from your own thoughts when you see the familiar glint of a sniper rifle across the street. Your heart skips a beat and you're moving before you've even really connected that there's a gun.

You slam into Jason, a shot is fired. Pain blooms in your side as you both hit the ground.

Everything was different when Jason came back. It took a long time to settle, to try to find himself, to try to find his place in a family he doesn't know, a Gotham that's not quite what he remembers.

But he adapted, he carved out a place for himself that's undeniably his. He's really only left with one uncertainty, one place he doesn't know how to fit into.

You. His best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his first love. You're different now, but he is too, and he wants that to be okay.

Jason just doesn't know how to get to okay. He catches you watching him, he wonders what you see now. If you recognize the boy he used to be in what he is now. He can't help but watch you too. You're strong, brave, selfless and so, so beautiful. He's amazed about how much you've accomplished, how many lives you saved.

It's why he keeps telling Bruce to put him on patrol with you. It's worth the looks he gets if it means a chance to talk to you. He's currently trying to figure out the best way to get your attention during this boring stakeout. Should he ask what you've been up to? No, too general. If you're liking the weather? Ha, no. It's Gotham, that's stupid. The weather is bad.

If you have a partner? Oh, he definitely doesn't want to know that answer right now. He'd very much just like to be able to talk to you first.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Do you still love him like he still loves you?

He opens his mouth to speak, not having a plan but anything is better than silence, when you slam into him, crashing you both to the ground. The air leaves his lungs when he makes contact with the concrete, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head to cushion the fall.

"Hey, what–" He starts, voice failing when wetness starts to seep into his gloves. You're bleeding. You're bleeding. You're shot. You're hurt because you saved him.

He's only able to react on the years of skill and training ingrained into his bones. Get you off of him and on the ground. Remove armor. Pressure on the wound. Where's the shooter? His eyes dart, he doesn't see anyone. Doesn't see who did this to you.

"Oracle," he chokes out "They're hurt, gun shot. It's bad. I need- we need an evac." He's tugging off his jacket, more material to slow the blood flow, something to keep you warm.

"Hey," You're reaching up to touch his arm with shaky hands, you sound relieved, "You're okay."

He tears up behind his helmet. It's not fair, not right that you're trying to comfort him when you're bleeding out on some forsaken Gotham rooftop. He vaguely hears the voices coming through the comlink, that help is coming, that he needs to tell them what's going on.

But, he can't respond to them, too focused on you, the way you seem to be getting weaker with each passing second. He's panicking, his breathing is shallow and fast as he tries to keep you alive.

"Why did you do that? Why did you do that?" He asks, trying to keep it together, but it's impossible when all he wants to do is scream and cry and hunt down whoever shot you.

You just offer a frail smile. "Glad you're safe, Jason," You murmur, words getting more slurred and quiet with each passing moment. He checks your pulse. It's getting too slow.

"Stay awake, stay with me," He begs, words fraying as he sobs your name, "please."

Something touches his shoulder, he has his gun pulled and pointed before he bothers to see who it is, face curled into a snarl behind his helmet.

"Woah there, Jason." Nightwing. His hands are raised, "we're going to help them, okay?"

Batman sweeps past him, crouching down at your side to pick you up. Jason launches forward, panicked and unable to think straight as he barks, "Don't touch them!"

Nightwing hauls him back as Batman carries them, his person, to the plane. "No, no, no, please. I need to be there. I need to. It's my fault!"

"I know, I know, it's not your fault, we're going too. C'mon." Nightwing soothes, letting go of him. Jason's on Batman's heels immediately, gaze locked on you, how your eyes keep sliding shut.

"The shooter–" He starts, anger building behind the guilt and panic.

"Spoiler and Robin have it handled." Batman tells him. Jason nods weakly and when Batman carefully sets you down in the plane, he takes your hand. Nightwing starts working over your wound, you barely make a sound in reaction to the pain.

"Stay awake. Don't go." He murmurs, begging, as he squeezes your fingers. He nearly sobs again when you offer him a feeble one in return.

Everything hurts. Which makes sense, you did get shot. It doesn't really bother you, at least not right now, not when Jason's holding your hand, his fingers resting over the steady beat of your pulse on your wrist.

You're not exactly sure how long you were passed out, but it was long enough that they got you into the medbay in the Batcave, stitched you up, and got you into a bed. Long enough that Jason's fallen asleep in the chair next to your bed, his head resting on top of the sheets by your hip.

You only hesitate for a second before reaching over to brush his hair back with your free hand. He's pretty when he's sleeping, but then again he's always pretty.

His eyes snap open and you draw your hand back. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up, Jason."

He sits up quickly, eyes darting over you, "Don't be. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" He hasn't let go of your hand.

"I'm okay." You promise, because you are. He didn't get hurt. He's here, and that makes everything okay.

He exhales shakily, studying you, "You shouldn't have done that."

You shrug, "Maybe, but you would have done the same thing." You know it's the truth, even if what's between you isn't the same, he's good. Always so good.

He frowns and runs his thumb over your knuckles, lost in thought, he can’t find the words to refute you, to make you understand what you did was wrong. "Do you– can I get you anything?"

You smile at him, teasing, trying to lighten the look on his face, "What? You gonna be my personal maid till I can get outta bed?"

You're surprised at how earnestly he nods, "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need, just let me know."

You blink at him and take a risk, "Maybe you could keep me company for a while? Not much to do in medbay," You ask tentatively, unable to ignore a real chance at being something– anything– with him.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the way he smiles at your question. It surprises you again, how thrilled your question seems to make him.

If you only knew what he was thinking now, how much he's been trying to find this moment that brings you two back into each other's lives, and the guilt he feels that it took you getting hurt to find it. "I'd like that," he tells you.

You squeeze his hand, and he looks down, as if he forgot he was even holding it. It feels right, familiar, something that used to be found again.

"I'd like that too." You say softly. It makes the two of you grin like two idiots in love.

You'll both figure out you are, eventually, but in this tender moment, it's a sweet solace to have found a place next to each other again.

[rizzanon]

Background Info 2 (Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian, Duke Centered)

I think your relationship with Tim is more complicated than you wanted it to be. When he first came about to the family, he was the reason you found out about your family’s secrets. The ones that they’ve been hiding from you from the start. And for some reason, as a kid, you didn’t know whether you should be thankful, or hate him for that.

Why? Because the truth was a double-edged sword. On one hand, you had always felt like something was off about your family—the late nights, the unexplained bruises and injuries, the way they avoided topics like they were landmines. Tim revealing the truth was like solving a puzzle you didn’t know you were piecing together. But on the other hand, the truth came with a weight you hadn’t been prepared for before.

A part of you wanted to be grateful—Tim had given you the truth when no one else had. But another part of you couldn’t help but resent him. It was as if he had stolen the illusion of normalcy you clung to, replacing it with danger, secrets, and an overwhelming realization how much more you actually needed to do to get the approval of your family.

For the first few months of Tim being Robin, you didn’t see him as anything other than Jason’s replacement.

Jason had been your brother in every sense of the word. A little rough around the edges, sure, but he had a way of making you feel seen, even when the rest of the family was too caught up in their own world to notice you. So when he died, it left a gaping hole—not just in the family but in you. When Tim came along and slid into Jason’s place like it was as simple as filling a role, it was hard not to hate him for it.

You avoided him at first, ignored all of his attempts to be friendly or cordial. You refused to acknowledge him as anything other than “the new Robin.” You knew it was childish, but you were only 12 then. It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but grief doesn’t lend itself to rationality. Eventually, though, you started to let go of that resentment. He wasn’t Jason, but he wasn’t trying to be him either. He was just Tim.

So, you decided to try. He was close to your age, after all, and you figured, at the very least, you could be friends. But Tim didn’t seem to feel the same way. To him, you were Batman’s daughter, that was it. He kept things polite and distant, never letting you close enough to feel like anything more than an acquaintance.

That dynamic didn’t really shift until the death of his father. When Jack Drake was killed by Captain Boomerang, and Bruce formally adopted Tim, you felt for him in a way you hadn’t before. Losing a parent was a kind of pain you couldn’t imagine, and for the first time, you saw him as more than just “the new Robin”. You pitied him.

You tried to comfort him, offering him a shoulder to lean on and small acts of kindness. But Tim didn’t want your pity. If anything, it seemed to make him pull away even further. He started treating you less like family, and more like a roommate—someone he tolerated living with but didn’t go out of his way to connect with.

You didn’t push him. If that’s what he needed, fine. But you still wanted to be close to him, so you found other ways to try. You’d ask him for help with missions and cases, knowing how smart and capable he was, hoping it might bridge the gap between you. For a while, it worked—or at least, it felt like it did. But over time, Tim’s frustration began to show. He never said it outright, but his body language spoke volumes: the tight set of his jaw, the way he’d sigh when you approached, the way his answers grew shorter and more clipped.

Eventually, you stopped asking.

And that’s how it’s been ever since. The two of you drifted into a rhythm, more like estranged colleagues or roommates than siblings, or in the very least, friends. You didn’t mind—at least, that’s what you told yourself. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if things could’ve been different, if you had acted differently from the very start.

When Cassandra first joined the family, you were slightly excited because, for the first time, you had a sister. An older one, in fact. It felt like a chance to have someone who might understand you in a way the others didn’t.

But then you found out that she didn’t speak. She couldn’t speak, write, or even read. The excitement you felt faltered, replaced by confusion and uncertainty. How were you supposed to bond with someone when you couldn’t even talk to them? At the time, you didn’t fully understand the extent of her struggles or the horrors she had endured. All you saw was the surface—a girl who communicated through body language and a few cryptic gestures.

At first, you weren’t sure how to approach her. Conversations were one-sided, and you found yourself rambling awkwardly, trying to fill the silence. She would watch you intently, her dark eyes seeming to take in every word, every movement, but she never responded. It made you feel exposed, like she could see through every layer you tried to hide behind.

Still, you tried. You offered to help her learn, even though you weren’t exactly the best teacher. You’d leave sticky notes with simple words written on them, hoping she’d start to recognize them. Sometimes she’d glance at them, but other times, she’d brush past them as if they weren’t there.

It was disheartening at first, but then there were moments that gave you hope. A small smile when you handed her something. A nod of acknowledgment when you rambled about your day. Slowly, you began to realize that Cassandra spoke volumes without ever saying a word.

But even as you grew to understand her, there was a part of you that wondered if she ever really saw you the same way. She bonded so quickly with Bruce, with Barbara, even with Tim. They seemed to understand her in ways you couldn’t, and it made you feel like an outsider all over again.

You wanted to be close to her, to have the sisterly relationship you’d always imagined, but it felt like you were chasing something that was always just out of reach. Cassandra was kind, patient even, but there was always a distance—an invisible wall that kept you from getting too close. You weren’t sure if it was something she put up or something you did.

But when she was getting mire familiar with speaking and reading, you noticed that she started to avoid you. Subtly. Cassandra didn’t see you as someone to guide or protect. In her eyes, you were fragile, someone who didn’t belong in the same world of violence and shadows that had shaped her. She didn’t want you to go down this path, in a way, she wanted you to live your life away from this.

But that’s not what you wanted. When you tried to train with her, hoping to gain her approval, she’d effortlessly disarm you, her movements almost lazy. “Not ready,” she’d say bluntly, walking away without further explanation. You were left feeling small, unworthy. And in a way, that sparked the initial tension between you and her.

As the years went by though, you hated that you were feeling jealous over the fact that your father seemed to see Cassandra as more of a daughter than with you. You’ve seen the way they bonded, seen the way Bruce’s usually stoic demeanor softened ever so slightly when Cassandra was around. It wasn’t like he ignored you, but it was different. With Cassandra, there was a shared understanding, an unspoken connection forged in the language of the battlefield—a language you never quite mastered.

You tried to convince yourself it didn’t bother you. After all, Bruce was distant with everyone, wasn’t he? But the more you watched him mentor her, the more you saw the effort he put into helping her grow—not just as a fighter, but as a person—the harder it became to push those feelings of inadequacy aside.

Cassandra, for her part, didn’t seem to notice how much it hurt. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything. She was focused, always pushing herself to be better, stronger, faster. And you… you felt like you were standing still, trying to catch up but never quite reaching her.

The jealousy festered quietly. You hated feeling that way toward her, especially when she hadn’t done anything wrong. She deserved Bruce’s attention. She deserved to be seen. But so did you. And no matter how hard you tried, it felt like you were always coming up short in his eyes.

Over time, you started pulling back. You stopped asking her to train with you. Stopped leaving notes or trying to initiate conversations. Instead, you kept to yourself, throwing yourself into missions and tasks that didn’t involve her or Bruce. Maybe if you worked hard enough, fought hard enough, they’d finally see you as an equal.

But the distance didn’t fix anything. It only made the loneliness worse. You missed the small moments with Cassandra, the fleeting smiles and quiet nods. And even though you’d never admit it out loud, you missed the rare moments of connection with Bruce too.

The truth was, you didn’t know how to bridge the gap between you and Cassandra—or anyone in the family, for that matter. You were stuck in a cycle of trying too hard and pulling away, and no matter what you did, it never felt like enough.

And as for Stephanie, you two have never actually been close. At first, you just saw her as Tim’s girlfriend, and that was it. You didn’t pay her much attention beyond that. But things shifted dramatically when Barbara and Dick allowed her to take up the Batgirl mantle while your father was “dead.”

The first time you saw her in her version of the Batgirl costume, it felt like the world stopped. That symbol, that legacy—it was supposed to mean something, and seeing her wear it felt like a betrayal. Dick brought her along as Batgirl during his time as Batman, with Damian as his Robin, and the sight of them together cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

You felt replaced. Tossed aside. Forgotten. And that feeling lit a fire in you—a desperate, burning need to prove that you deserved to be Batgirl more than Stephanie ever did. This wasn’t just about the costume or the name; it was about everything it represented. Respect. Recognition. Family.

So, yes, it became a one-sided rivalry, fueled by jealousy and betrayal. You trained harder, worked yourself to the brink, but no matter how much you pushed, it never felt like enough. Stephanie had been doing this longer than you had, and her experience showed. But that didn’t make it sting any less when you watched her work alongside Dick and Damian with an ease you couldn’t seem to replicate.

When your father returned, you thought things would change—that maybe this would be your chance to finally step into the role you’d been striving for. But even then, Stephanie remained Batgirl, and Bruce seemed to call on her more often than he did you. For recon missions, patrols, you name it—she was his go-to. It hurt, deeply.

And when Stephanie eventually stepped down from being Batgirl to return to her original mantle as Spoiler, it didn’t bring you the satisfaction you thought it would. You didn’t “win.” There was no triumph, no validation that you were the better Batgirl. Stephanie left on her own terms, and that only made it worse.

You felt like you’d lost. Lost the unspoken competition you’d waged in your own head, lost your chance to prove your worth. And that sense of failure—it ate away at you, leaving behind a bitterness you couldn’t shake. Instead of quelling your insecurities, it only made them worse, fueling a toxic cycle of self-doubt and a relentless need to prove yourself.

Maybe in another life, things would’ve been different. Maybe you and Stephanie could’ve been friends, allies even. But the weight of your own jealousy and toxic mentality made that impossible. You wanted to reach out, to connect, but every time you tried, that voice in your head reminded you of all the ways you’d fallen short. And so, the distance between you and Stephanie only grew, just like it had with everyone else.

As for Damian, your relationship with him has always been a mixed bag. When he first showed up at the manor, you didn’t know what to make of him. He was brash, arrogant, and entirely too confident for someone so young. At first, you thought he was just some spoiled brat with a superiority complex. And honestly? You weren’t far off.

He didn’t waste any time asserting himself, loudly proclaiming that he was the true heir to Batman’s legacy and making it clear he saw you as competition. Not a sibling, not even an ally—just someone to outmatch. He called you soft, mocked your fighting skills, and dismissed your efforts to keep the peace as weakness. It was exhausting, to say the least.

At the same time, though, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. He’d been thrust into a completely unfamiliar world, taken from the League of Assassins and dropped into the Wayne family chaos. It was clear he didn’t know how to connect with anyone, and for all his bravado, there was something lonely about him.

You tried to bridge the gap at first, hoping to at least build a sense of camaraderie. But Damian made it difficult. He was quick to push you away, and any attempt to be friendly was met with biting remarks or scornful looks. Over time, you learned to keep your distance, picking your battles carefully.

What made it worse was how Bruce and Dick always seemed to take his side. When he antagonized you or picked fights, their solution was always the same:

“Be patient with him,” or, “He’s still adjusting. Give him time.”

But how could you? He was the one who started the fights, who insulted you at every opportunity. No one seemed to care about that part.

Still, as much as Damian constantly undermined you, there were moments—fleeting and rare—when you noticed something different. He wasn’t as dismissive as he pretended to be. There were times when you’d find your weapons repaired after training or your notes on a case mysteriously corrected. He never said anything about it, and you never brought it up, but you knew it was him.

Even his insults, as cruel as they were, sometimes felt… purposeful. Like he was testing you, pushing you to be better. At first, you thought it was just an excuse you made up to deal with his attitude, but over time, it became clear that his criticism wasn’t entirely baseless. Damian had a way of pointing out your flaws in a way no one else did—harshly, yes, but sometimes accurately.

As the years went on, your dynamic shifted. The outright animosity faded, though it never disappeared entirely. There were still arguments, snide remarks, and moments where you swore he was intentionally trying to get under your skin. But there was also a strange, unspoken understanding.

You’d never call yourselves close. You’d never confide in each other or share heartfelt moments. But there was a bond, however tenuous, forged by shared experiences and blood. There was a mutual, begrudging respect that neither of you would admit out loud.

At the end of the day, Damian was still Damian. He still had his sharp tongue and holier-than-thou attitude, and you still had your resentment. But underneath it all, there was a flicker of something—rivalry mixed with loyalty, disdain mixed with a reluctant sense of family. It wasn’t perfect, and it probably never would be. But it was enough.

For Duke, it’s a bit different. He joined the family relatively later than the others, and Bruce didn’t officially adopt him into the family—he only fostered him. That distinction didn’t seem to matter to anyone else, though. From the moment Duke stepped into the manor, he fit right in.

Whenever you and Duke crossed paths, he was always nice. Friendly, even. But just like with the others, there was this invisible wall between you and him. Why? You weren’t entirely sure. Maybe it was because you noticed how easily he got along with the rest of your siblings, how seamlessly they accepted him. They included him in more things, leaned on him more during missions, and spent more time with him than they did with you.

It wasn’t like you hated him for that. No, never. Duke wasn’t the problem—it was the growing realization that once again, you were on the outside looking in. You couldn’t help but feel like you were being edged out of your own family. And that hurt, both your pride and your heart.

There were moments when you tried to connect with him, telling him about a lead you’d found or an idea you had for a case. Duke always listened, but his responses left a sting. Comments like, “Are you sure you can handle this stuff by yourself?” or, “You don’t want any help?” or even, “Maybe you should get Dick or Cass to help you out with this.”

You knew he probably meant well, but those words dug deep. It felt like he didn’t think you were capable, that he saw you as someone who couldn’t hold their own. You never said anything about it, of course, but it only strengthened your resolve to prove yourself.

And maybe that was the problem. The more you tried to show him—and everyone else—that you were competent, the more strained things became. It wasn’t outright hostility, not by any means, but there was a tension that lingered between you. A mutual awkwardness neither of you ever addressed.

At the end of the day, though, Duke was Duke. You weren’t enemies, and you didn’t resent him. You were friends, at the very least. But there was always that wall, a quiet reminder that, even in your own family, you were never quite enough.

I hope this was able to effectively portrag the fact that the reader is far from a perfect person, because I don’t think I was able to show that in the first background info. I feel that growing up in such an emotionally stunted family would inevitably shape her into someone complex and flawed. She wouldn’t be endlessly hopeful or optimistic. How could she be? She’s not just some perpetually kind, selfless girl with no negative emotions. Instead, her experiences have made her someone who struggles with jealousy, insecurity, and a need to prove herself, even if it leads to toxic behavior… but i hope y’all enjoyed this part!! lmk what you think <3

Part 1 (Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Jason Centered)

m.list

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[undiscovered-horizon]

[Zoro is jealous of how impressed you are with another man's strength. A few insults and broken breezeblocks later, he makes sure he's the only man you have eyes on.]

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Roronoa Zoro is a man too busy to boast. He perceives his skills and attributes as a means to an end and not a goal in itself; achieving unmatched swordsmanship is but a method of becoming the world's greatest swordsman.

It's completely useless to waste one's potential only to earn fame and admiration. If one sees their abilities as a goal, they tend to abandon their growth once the goal is achieved, never discovering what they can really do. Therefore, boasting is a manmade border between the current state of things and the wonderful possibilities.

Or so he tells himself.

The crowd cheers again as the blue-haired boy breaks another stack of planks. Each time he adds one more obstacle, the mob of onlookers is sure that this time, he's bound to fail. They've been wrong so far.

Zoro and you have been watching the show from affair but only because you refused to walk away. Sure, on your adventures you have seen people or unimaginable skills and attributes. Nevertheless, the man on the makeshift stage is just that - a man. No Devil Fruit, no canons-for-arms or anything of this sort. Just a person with determination and years of practice.

"Damn, that's some strength," you say in awe. "It's amazing."

Zoro only scoffs, scowling while he stands with his arms crossed. "Come on, this is nothing."

"Oh, right, breaking a stack of five wooden planks with your bare fist is just a regular Tuesday, eh?"

"Definitely not for a twig like him," he answers while still glaring at the boastful plank-breaker. "A gust of wind could break his bones."

Something about his huffing and puffing doesn't sit right with you. After all, why does he care in the first place? Zoro is not the kind of person to be interested in things that are not directly connected to him. It's almost as if...

Is he jealous of the attention?

"You know what, Zoro?" When you turn to look at him, he notices the challenging glint in your eyes. You're up to no good, aren't you? "I'd love to see you try and break even one plank."

He scoffs again but this time he looks almost offended at the implication. "I wouldn't even get out of bed for one."

"That's not a good measure." You shake your head decisively. "It's already hard to make you get up." Then, an idea sparks in your thoughts - something he's sure not to reject. "Let's do it like this. If you can one-up that guy, I'll do whatever you want."

Zoro's brown eyes stare into yours with a new intensity. He seems to be trying to guess how serious you are about your promise. "Anything goes?" he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing that will tarnish my dignity." As a warning, you point your finger at him. "Or dirty my shirt."

Then, to your utmost satisfaction, he gives you a smirk beaming with confidence.

"You're going to regret this."

"I hope so," you answer.

He clenches his jaw at your frivolous tone, his mind racing in a thousand different directions at once. What do you mean you "hope to regret" your wager? What exactly do you think he'll ask of you?

No matter the answers to his questions, Zoro has found a new source of motivation inside him. He can ask anything. As nice as that sounds, and he's sure to let his imagination run amok, the more satisfying prize will be the look of awe you're bound to give him. If you're impressed with this boastful twig of a man, how dazzled will you be with Zoro when he beats him? Maybe you'll finally stop looking at other men like they're actually worth even a second of your time or a speck of your attention.

"Hey, wood boy!" Zoro exclaims at the top of his lungs while making his way through the excited crowd towards the makeshift stage. "Let's see who's stronger."

"A brave challenger appears!" The blue-haired man announces. Whispers erupt among the onlookers. "Or maybe he's stupid?" he directs his question at his fans. Then, when Zoro enters the stage, the man looks at him with a feeling of superiority smeared across his face. "I'll have you know, I'm the local champion."

Up close, the blue-haired man looks even less impressive than from the ground. He's rather scrawny compared to men of similar strength and he could definitely use a long bath. Zoro is almost offended that you'd look at this poser of a clown instead of him.

"Only local?" Zoro asks. He erupts in laughter, making his opponent's expression visibly falter. "Not much of a title. I've seen rocks bigger than this island."

The whispers turn into loud conversations as half of the crowd demands Zoro to take back his words and the other half begs for a showdown to see who's the true master between them.

"Ambitious!" the blue-haired man exclaims with fake casualness, clearly trying to hide his own uneasiness. "That's what I like to see. But I must warn you that breaking wood with the sheer power of your bare fist is neither easy nor simple. Are you sure you can manage?"

Zoro laughs again. His posture only grows with confidence while the other man seems to be becoming smaller with each of Zoro's insults. "Wood is for children."

The blue-haired man swallows nervously. Sweat trickles down his neck. "Alright then." He clasps his hands together, rubbing them to ease the arousing tension. "What do you propose?"

"Breezeblocks."

The crowd audibly gasps and you're not any different. To break something that can render someone unconscious, if not dead, without having to use much strength? Even for someone like Zoro, the suggestion seems more than audacious. True, you wanted to see him prove his bold talk but not break his hands.

But before the blue-haired man can protest or diverge the discussion, a group of eager men bring a load of breezeblocks on stage. Their eyes shine with impatience and desire to see uncommon strength as they take away the wooden boards and set up the first breezeblock for each of them to break. The hollow bricks are placed atop regular, clay bricks that the blue-haired man has used to lay the planks on.

With a light gesture of his hand, Zoro allows the apparent master to begin. The man stretches his arms and cracks his joints. Despite being visibly experienced in this art, there is a noticeable nervousness in his movements, too. As though he's not as confident as he was five minutes ago.

Measuring one or two times beforehand, the local champion slams his fists on the breezeblock. A muffled thud resounds and the crowd falls silent. Then, a loud grunt fills the tense air but not a speck of cement is lifted. The breeze block did not break but considering the agony on the man's face and the deep red of his hand, something surely did break.

Zoro laughs for the third time. Strangely enough, he seems almost suspiciously laid-back. He reaches for the blue-haired man's unbroken breezeblock and places it atop his. If the crowd was silent before, it's deathly quiet now. They don't even dare breathe, awaiting the resolution of this unforeseen wager.

His eyes meet yours and never stray as he punches the stack of breezeblock. They break, fall and crumble on the stagefloor. Zoro doesn't look phased in any way, nor does his hand look to be injured. Judging by his casual attitude, he can easily break a lot more than just two breezeblocks. Maybe one day he'll find out but not at the moment - that's not the point of his little show of strength.

Some people try to accost him or talk to him as he makes his way back to you but Zoro's usual glares and silence quickly mitigate their enthusiasm and soon the mob of onlookers just cheers among themselves.

"Alright, I'm impressed," you admit with a nod. "In capital letters."

"So, anything I want, huh?" He can't help the smile curving his lips. It's a big word that you've used - a little too big for Zoro's imagination because it too happily strayed in directions that might break his heart permanently if you reject him.

"I suppose you do deserve compensation for holding yet another title of a champion. The dreadful weight of success," you say in a dramatic tone. "Now, what is this 'anything' you've decided on?"

Truthfully, he hasn't decided yet. If this "more than friends, less than lovers" situation he has with you was a game of chess, he's just made his opening move. You played back and put him in a place where there are simply too many options to reconsider. So what choice does he have to make to have you in a checkmate?

[darlingdaisyfarm]

okay okay okay, but have you ever thought about Stan Pines going all out with a bat and those brass knuckles, not for Dipper and Mabel this time, but for you?

so imagine this

you’re fighting for your life, seriously, you’re down on the floor, struggling and kicking and trying to pry this zombie’s gross, dead grip off your ankle. it’s got this clammy, awful hand wrapped around you, squeezing like it’s never letting go. you’re panicking, heart pounding, kicking out as hard as you can, but it just keeps pulling you closer, and it’s got this. . . stink, this mix of dirt and decay and something that’s just so wrong, it’s like it’s crawling up your nose and seeping into your brain

and then you barely have time to process it when — wham! 

Stanley’s fist connects with the zombie’s wrist, and it’s like a scene straight out of a horror movie, except he’s not playing around. he’s just done with this thing trying to mess with what’s his.  

that zombie hand flying—literally, just detaches like it was nothing more than a piece of old meat. meanwhile Stan just stands there, fists still clenched, breathing heavy, hair a mess, a few abrasions here and there, looking at you, checking if his love is okay 

you’re gasping, trying to scramble to your feet, but Stan’s already there, arm steadying you before he’s pulling you close. he’s got that look—wild, fierce, because there’s not a damn thing in the world that’s gonna stand between him and keeping you safe 

“ya alright?” he rasps with that rough voice of him but somehow still tender when he addresses to you. but then he’s all business, not waiting for your answer. “get behind me. now.” it’s not even a suggestion, it’s an order, one you’re almost too shaken to process before you feel his hand on your shoulder, guiding you behind him, making himself this solid wall between you and whatever disgusting horror’s lurking in the shadows.

“ain't nobody gonna touch what’s mine! you fucking get me?!”

and that’s when Stanley raises the bat, no hesitation, no fear, just this quiet fury which shows through his every movement. when the next zombie stumbles forward, moaning and reaching for flesh, Stan swings with a force that makes your heart skip a beat. another crack! the bat slams into its jaw, splintering bone and sending the creature staggering back like it just got hit by a freight train.

“c’mon, ya sack of rotten shit! ya want somethin?” he taunts, daring them to come closer. another one lunges, and he doesn’t even blink, twisting the bat in his hands before landing a brutal swing right to its chest, the wood splintering against decaying ribs.

and then, when the bat’s seen its last swing, he tosses it aside with a grunt, rolling his shoulders before pulling out brass knuckles, slipping them over his fingers with this terrifying, steady calm

he glances over his shoulder. “stay back, ya hear me?” and he sounds so damn protective, like he’d burn the world down before he’d let these things so much as look your way again.

he’s back to business, fists swinging with deadly precision, brass knuckles glinting as he hammers away at the zombies, one after another. every punch lands with a sickening thud and Stan is not stopping until every last one of these things is down.

because Stan Pines could take on the whole world if he had to, if it meant keeping you safe.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Can I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, and Halsin being jealous of some guy is flirting with their female s/o although she's oblivious that he's flirting with her? He's so possessive that he even took her back home to have a heated make-out while holding her close!

Astarion

ThE pLaN wAs SiMpLe. All jokes about Astarions' cut scene aside, he simply tried not to like you.

He tried not to notice your smile, laugh, or radiant personality that felt like the sun.

He fell, though, and you were everything to him, but he was afraid to lose you. To push you too far, you to abandon him like all others.

He tried oh so hard not to think about how that tieflings stupid tail was getting dangerously close to you.

You were so naive and unique, so headstrong but so so clueless. How could you spot an ambush a yard away but couldn't tell this creature was hitting on you.

Astarion chose the safe route of just sitting there and watching like always.

A burning fire lit within him, the usual cold tempered vampire became lit with something. Jealousy? No, it couldn't be.

Then that damn tail wrapped around your leg; why, just why couldn't you be simple? Why couldn't he just not care who you sleep with?

Before he knew it, he stood before you, the tiefling behind him. Why?

He turned on his charm, and before he knew it, he was wooing the Tiefling, convincing him to go on his married way in hopes of bedding another.

Astarion looked at you as the tiefling left, and the fear of losing something so good ate at him. Gripping your arm, he took off as quickly as a fox through the forest you close behind.

Once safely away from prying eyes where he could be vulnerable, show you how much he cared and how scared he was of losing you, and he kissed you deeply.

You two had bedded in the forest many times before, but today, your connection was so passionately different.

Gale

Gale liked to imagine he was a simple man who didn't need much, especially after all that happened with Mystra.

That was until you came along, with your well everything; Gale couldn't find anything to hate about you.

The fear of messing up again and entering a new world of troubles ate him alive—almost as bad as the orb resting in his heart.

That's why anyone getting close to you, even a fraction of romance hinted or thrown your way, killed him.

He knew his place, though. Trying to woo a woman got him into the mess he is in now, so he just stood by and watched as people flirted with you.

Every instance though filled him up like a bottle, soon the pressure was going to explode but he didn't know how to inform you of this.

That night at Sharess Caress, though, when the twins propositioned you, the bottle overflowed.

Gale couldn't handle the pressure building or how you just laughed at the twins even though he could tell you were uncomfortable by their touch.

Before he knew it, he pulled you into him and used his ability to travel the astral plane to escape.

You were his and his alone to look at, adore, and love. No outside force or group could take you. Here, he ravaged you all night and early in the morning.

From that day on, Gale never hesitated to steal you away to his private hiding place to show you his more jealous side.

Halsin

Halsin was one with nature, so sharing with you wasn't horrible.

He knew that people would come and go, but he would be your one rock, always present and always there.

That made this evening at camp so much more confusing for him.

Halsin knew the wizard, vampire, and legend were all seeking your companionship, especially since they all brought it up to him before this month.

However, watching them flirt with you repeatedly, you just accepting the advances and taunts ate at him a little.

Halsin tried to go on nature walks, work with the land, and even speak to the great oak father about this; however, he turned up blank.

Tonight at camp was exceptionally hard. Though you had turned down Wyll and Gale, you never quite turned down Astarion. Halsin didn't know why this tore him up.

As the vampire asked you to take your life force once again, Halsin grew irate. You were simply too oblivious to realize this was an addictive habit, so you always stayed by the cold man's side.

Anger consumed him, and Halsin went to your side. Grabbing your hand and dragging you along, Halsin allowed nature to take its course.

Once you two stopped in the middle of a clearing, Halsin sighed. "Oak father's blessing, I know I always said nature can take its course, but Petal, I do not think I can stand this any longer. Let's just stay us, me, you, and no one else."

Once his profession came to light and you agreed, no questions asked, Halsin couldn't wait to enjoy the combination of you two as one. Oak Father's blessing on you both.

[laurentdirosetti]

"Support character" [part 2]

{Idia Shroud x gn/MC}

Tags: playing videogames together, competitive, bet, smut...

Idia’s room was just like you imagined it would be, an otaku’s room —books scattered on the floor, open boxes in every corner, merchandising from different animes and games, posters on the walls… Also, the air in the room is really heavy, why is it so hot in here? Is it because of the computer or- 

MC: ARE YOU ALRIGHT? 

His hair was bright red, redder than when we were in the storage room, and not only the color was hot red, but the temperature too. 

Idia: so-sorry, this is the first time a girl has entered my room (anyone other than Ortho or me for that matter).

That was the issue, haha… now I’m nervous too. I should do something to break the ice in this situation, or rather cooler the temperature. I think I recognised one of his figurines on that shelf… 

MC: Isn’t that Ruri-chan from “The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl”?

I was staring right at Ruri-chan when I asked him, so it was a surprise when I turned around to look at his face and saw his expression. For a few seconds the time stopped and he gave me a death stare. Why is he so scary all of a sudden? Did I mispronounce her name? Impossible, I’ve been watching that series since I came to this world, mostly because it was the only serotonin I could find after nearly dying over a kid’s tantrum. 

Idia: you know Ruri-chan?

Maybe because you were nearly as introverted as Idia or because you were nervous, the only answer you could find to his suddenly cold attitude was that this was the beginning of the typical “man interrogation over a common interest to prove your authenticity as a fan”. So before he could start making you questions about the show, you blow out all the lore of the series. 

Idia’s face was as rigid as a rock until you finished your monologue on Ruri-chan’s journey. You stopped talking to catch a breath when he grabbed you by the shoulders and suddenly snapped.

Idia:  ARE YOU TELLING ME THERE WAS ANOTHER OTAKU IN THE ACADEMY AND I DISCOVER IT NOW? Why did it take you so long to talk to me? How is it possible that I didn’t know about this before? I mean, I have control over all the technology and internet connection here. I should’ve been notified if a student was watching anime, how is it possible I didn’t know about you till now? What did you do? What kind of firewall did you use?

MC: I just watched it on Ramshackle’s TV…

Idia: ah… that explains everything, that TV probably doesn’t even have an HDMI port, let alone Internet… 

MC: Idia… my shoulders are starting to hurt.

He sure is strong, it's hard to tell by those baggy clothes he's always wearing. He instantly opened his hands to let me go as soon as he heard me. He looked troubled he might have hurted me. 

MC: don’t worry, I may not have “mana”, but my HP is full.

He couldn’t help but smile at my dumb -almost cringe- comparison. I think my “break the ice” mission was successful. Idia is very expressive, he snapped from nervous, to surprised, to confused, to happy in the the blink of an eye. I wish he stopped using that floating tablet of his to attend classes so I could see more of his expressions. 

As soon as he released me he went to pick something from his wardrobe, a pair of controls apparently. The controls in my world were less complex than this ones. Idia handed me one of them and I began to study the buttons. It would be a lie to tell I knew how to grab it, clown music is playing inside my head. I wanted to play videogames with him, but truth be told I don’t have money to fix Rammshackle’s sink let alone buy a videogame or a console. 

Idia saw my troubled grin and step towards me, shadowing my entire persona. 

Idia: Is there a problem? You don’t like the color or something? Is it the brand?

MC: well, you see, the thing is… 

This is gonna be so embarassing. First, I ran into problems trying to defend him against nothing, cause he wasn’t even hearing those jerks. Second, I made him hide with me in the storage room and now I have to tell him I wanted to play videogames with him but didn’t even think about the possibility of the controls being different from my world. Defeated, I lower my head to evade his soon to be inquisitive gaze. 

MC: …I don’t know how to use these controls, they are different from the ones in my world.

Silence was so loud I couldn’t take it anymore and looked up. He was trying so hard not to burst out laughing at me his cheeks were red and his jaw was so tense I could see his neck muscles contracting. Finally, he let out a little pfft and grabbed his mouth and chin with his hand, pressing his cheek with his index.

Idia: I’m sorry but, you went through all that trouble to play together and you don’t even know how? Cute.

Lucky for me I don’t have magical hair that turns red when I'm flustered, but I’m sure it’s not hard to guess just by looking at my face. 

Idia: don’t worry, guess I’ll have to teach you as I did with my little brother, come here.

He sat on a visible comfortable plush sofa, big enough for him to open his leg and ask me to sit between them. Funny, when we were in the storage room he was so nervous and now he openly asks me to sit on top of him, hasn’t he noticed?

Dumbfounded, I did as he requested and sat on the gap between his thighs, creating a space between us as a way to surpass the embarrassment. Unfazed, he glued his chest to my back and slipped his hands around my body. As if I was walking on thin ice, I slowly rested my arms on top of his. Then he moved his hands on top of mine on the controller, guiding my fingers on top of the buttons. My ears were bright red as I could feel his breathing chilling my neck, whispering a slow pace explanation on how to use the controller. His fingers moved mine slowly over the buttons, his hair fell as a cascade over my shoulders sliding between my legs. I don’t know what is happening and I would swear neither does he. He’s so focused on explaining the lore of the game and controls he hasn’t realized the hot mess he got cuddled beneath him.

Idia: Did you get that?

He asked, suddenly making me snap out of my cloud. Even though it was difficult, for many reasons, I caught a glimpse of his monologue while trying to survive my ocean of hormones. 

MC: Well… It seems quite complicated to be honest. Maybe I can understand it better once I play the game. 

Idia: Great, let’s play. I’ll connect the other controller so we can multi-play this. 

The controller was right next to us, already plunged, so he didn’t move an inch and his arm were still surrounding me. The soundtrack of the game started playing and far too late I realized he meant to play in this position, basically cuddling each other, with our arms tangled, his body temperature on me and his breathing on my neck. We haven’t even started, but I can tell I already lost. 

Unfortunately for him, after playing for nearly an hour, I tried my best to give him a hard time beating me. I lost all the matches anyway, but at least I could hear his groans all along, echoing in my ears. 

Idia: SO much for being a snob, you are tougher than you look. But rest assured, I would never let a newbie beat me at my favorite game. Ortho has tried many times and I should give him a pass -you know the whole “Idia let your little brother win once”- but as a weeb I have a reputation yk. 

That smirk on his face… he’s sure full of himself. I have almost grasped the dynamics of this game, maybe I could beat him. I’m a pretty competitive person and that arrogance only ignites something dark in me, something stupid. 

MC: I bet I can ruin that reputation of yours in our next round.

Idia: Are YOU implying YOU can win? LMFAO, if delulu was a sport you'd have a gold medal. If you beat me on this round I’ll be your chair or whatever -not that it’s even a possibility.

MC: Do you mean I can ask you anything if I win? It’s this one of those anime situations in which the winner can order the loser around the whole day? 

Idia: Yeah, that kind of shoujo stuff. Afraid?

MC: Mmn… Well, you’re already quite the comfortable chair.

That came out of nowhere, but I decided to keep my cool and rested my weight on his chest even more, looking up at his melted honey eyes now widening from sudden embarrassment. His peachy cheeks are so cute. Plan complete: this may be considered cheating but the only way to win is to distract him and by the discontrolled beating of his heart reverberating on my back I can tell it already worked. 

We began playing, in the game we were two characters fighting each other in a 2D horizontal landscape. I didn’t learn all the combos, but I mastered the parries and evasions, so it was nearly impossible for him to even scratch me. He was focused on attacking while I was determined on defending, a never ending match it seemed.  In real life it was the other way around, I continued non-stop “attacking” him while he tried his best to “defend” himself. Each time I evaded one of his attacks my butt moved against his lower body. From the corner of my eye I enjoyed his leg contraction at every “unintended” pound I gave him. After almost an hour of playing him, and the game, his breath was a mess, he was trembling all over and his dick was rock hard between my ass cheeks. My intention was to win the game, but I’m not quite disappointed with the actual development of the situation. I could take this as a win already.

Then I felt a thrust, his body rested on top of mine and I swear I can almost tell his longitude just by the pressure on my lower back. He snapped, his fingers were moving so fast on the buttons I had to make an effort to see them, he left me no chance to defend myself neither in the game or reality. As my character fell to the ground completely defeated, my head stumped on the floor as his hands pressed my shoulders to the ground.

Face to face, among the darkness of his room I could only differentiate two golden orbs and his face lightly illuminated by the gentle blue of his hair. 

Idia: I won.

My whole belly was on the palm of his hand as he slowly lifted my shirt all the way up, until he grabbed my neck under the clothes. 

MC: Wh-what are you doing?

Idia: I won, so the loser must do whatever the winner demands, right?

MC: Bu-but you haven’t say anything yet.

Idia: Oh, then I want the loser to fix my joystick. 

What? Oh…

As I stupidly tried to understand that I noticed his hard-on pressuring my lower belly, near to my intimacy. 

Idia: you see, a certain snob player broke it mid-play. Any idea on how to fix it?

He completely snapped, I almost can’t recognize him. Where is the shy boy I was messing with? The situation has escalated more than I would have imagined, but this doesn’t put me off in the slightest. Seeing Idia all hot and bothered surely is rare enough and I want to push that dominant side of him a bit more.

MC: maybe… It just needs some cleaning?

I questioned opening my mouth and letting out my tongue. His sigh was filled with excitement and anticipation, I could catch him bitting his lips for a moment.

He moved his knees to the sides of my head and lowered his zip and trousers. My eyes, now more used to the low illumination of the room, enjoyed the view of his thighs, pale as porcelain. He looks so fragile and slim, or that was my line of thinking until he uncovered his dick. Hard, veiny and leaking precum on top of my forehead; the length was the size of my face. This was going to hurt.

I accepted my destiny and kept my mouth open for him to enter mercilessly. But, that wasn’t the case. At a slow pace he started going down on my mouth, he filled my cavity with just the tip and almost the middle of his length. Then, he took my chin in his hand and caressed my cheek, pressing it on his dick and slowly massaging it from outside. I didn’t know what to do with my tongue so I tried to lick his dick and press it more against my cheek. His eyes glittered from a moment and he let out a soft chuckle. 

Idia: seems you’re really eager to clean it, babe. But this much won’t do I’m afraid, you need to get it all wet enough.

Instantly, he continued letting down his hips  until all his dick was in my mouth and throat. He was so deep in me my lower lip was touching his balls. Strange enough, this wasn’t as painful as I imagined it to be, I wonder how can my throat be twitching around him and I’m so calm? Maybe, his sweet expressions are keeping me from gagging. His mouth is a little open, from this angle I can only see his tongue moving above his pointy teeth. His eyes are locked in my throat, probably a bulge has formed, his fault after all. He’s been so long in this position I could possibly draw his dick by having it inside me. 

When I thought he would start moving, his balls twitched against my lip and his cum flooded my mouth non-stop. When he released everything in me he fastly got up, letting me catch a breath. He cumed so much there were lines of cum running down my cheeks to the ground. I coughed a little after drinking all.

When I sat on the floor and looked up I could feel his gaze contemplating my whole display, heavy breathing and a surprised expression.

MC: that was fast. 

Idia: I endured playing in hard mode, literally, a few minutes ago. Thank me I didn't finish by just seeing your ahegao face. Also …you didn’t need to drink that.

MC: I told you I would clean it. 

Idia: quite the awful job, It's all sticky and twitching, maybe you can clean it better down here…

To be continued...

Part 1

[spartanseagoat]

Hey Babe, Let Me Tell You About Your Chiron Real Quick & Explain Why you are hurt

Hey y’all!! To kick off my new Astro page, I thought I would start off with some healing!

Who is Chiron?

Chiron in Greek Mythology was the Son of Kronos , other sources say Apollo and was a famous centaur. He was known for his vast knowledge of medicines and his overall deep wisdom. He was known for the arts as well. He was also an incredible teacher and taught many Greek heroes such as Hercules.

He was accidentally shot by a poisoned arrow and was unable to heal himself so Greek God Zeus honored him by giving him a place in the constellation known as Centaurus.

How does this play into astrology?

In astrology, Chiron is known as the “Wounded Healer and Teacher.” He represents the unhealed part of ourselves that we keep rehealing. Think of it this way, it’s like our triggers.

Imagine getting severely hurt physically , your wounds heal but now you have a nasty scar from that wound. Even though that wound is healed, you’ll always have that reminder of when you were in pain and it can be triggering.

You’ll never fully heal your Chiron but you can learn from it and how to grow as a person. Your Chiron wounds can be from past lives as well. You may have experienced this in your early childhood the most and it’s followed you through adulthood.

The parts of you that you need to start Healing based on the signs

*the house it’s in determine the area in life you are wounded in. Degrees of your placement also plays a part THIS IS A GENERALIZED BREAKDOWN!

Aries/1h- being hurt physically, not having confidence in yourself, not feeling bold. Don’t feel comfortable in the body you’re in. People saying mean things about your appearance, bullying was a big part of your early wounds.

Taurus/2h- your self worth, being homeless or struggling for home stability, financial struggles, feeling insecure about your voice or how you dress or look. Food struggles is another big one

Gemini/3h- you struggle with communicating your thoughts, having car or transportation struggles, having difficulties with siblings or co-workers. May have learning disabilities such as ADHD

Cancer/4h- you struggle with understanding your emotions and how to regulate them. Troubles with your home life or family, especially mother. Motherhood could be hard for you as well such as not wanting to be a mom or wanting to be one

Leo/5h- your inner childhood, being confident around others, don’t like being in the spotlight. Feel uncomfortable around children, bruised ego from childhood wound

Virgo/6h- suffer from perfectionism and wanting to be the best at everything. Physical Health related issues, work related issues, struggle with routines

Libra/7h- connecting with people one on one, relationship issues. Struggles with finding balance in your life, not having justice or fairness on your side. Struggles with trying to please everyone

Scorpio/8h- struggles with trusting others and being closed off, struggles with developing intimate connection with partners. Dealing with a death of a loved one at an early age, struggle with financial power and control. Power struggles in general

Sagittarius/9h- having a hard time communicating your beliefs and perspectives or people not understanding your worldview, struggles with broadening your view, traveling struggles, religious trauma, struggled in college/higher learning environments. Carry the world on their shoulders.

Capricorn/10h- struggles with ambition and setting long term goals, struggles with not getting recognition or the respect you earned. Struggles with responsibility. This can indicate being a workaholic as well

Aquarius/11h- feeling like an outcast from social circle or network. Having a hard time accomplishing your dreams fulfillment, struggles with social media or the internet in general. Struggles with seeing the good in humanity, being rebellious to the point of being reckless , always feeling uncomfortable in crowds.

Pisces/12h- lack boundaries with people, struggle to see people for who they are and put them on a pedestal, struggle with regulating your emotions due to feeling other people emotions, mental health struggles, addiction struggles, imprisonment struggles

Keep in mind this is a very broad and generalized reading. If you want me to make a detailed a post for each Chiron let me know here by voting!

[reidmotif]

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different. 

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age. 

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again. 

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit. 

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out. 

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets. 

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be,  the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular,  but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom. 

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again. 

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide. 

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known. 

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.” 

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion. 

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.” 

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions. 

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself.  “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic. 

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion. 

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated. 

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?” 

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.” 

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong. 

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her. 

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft. 

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.” 

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say,  but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile. 

“You waited.” She says, softly. 

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling. 

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. 

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets. 

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar. 

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her. 

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand. 

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away. 

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.” 

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice. 

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words. 

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly. 

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that. 

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me. 

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says. 

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.” 

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says. 

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me.  And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious. 

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart. 

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.” 

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs. 

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her. 

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.” 

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.” 

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

 “6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.” 

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.” 

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely. 

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup. 

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there. 

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here? 

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?” 

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

 I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly. 

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze. 

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine. 

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was. 

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one. 

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such. 

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-” 

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine. 

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.” 

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan. 

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want. 

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion. 

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly. 

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before. 

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-” 

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine. 

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us. 

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me. 

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her. 

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her. 

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.” 

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out. 

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her. 

“What about?” 

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly. 

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her. 

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers. 

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one. 

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 16 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: hello loves!! I can’t believe we’ve already come to the end of this series😭 thank you guys so so much for all the love you’ve sent my work and efforts!! Love y’all so much, enjoy reading- and stay tuned for my future fics 🤍🩷

W/C: 4.025

part fifteen

I sigh for the millionth time today, leaning back against the backrest of my chair. I rub my wrists, massaging my fingers and knuckles, groaning in relief when I hear some of them pop.

There were only a handful of matches left in the league, along with the Champions League final. The entire PR and marketing department had been working overtime for a couple days now, wanting to end the season on a high note.

I was so tired and stressed out, internally debating whether to call in sick tomorrow, but there was no way the team could finish all of this without my help.

Since my role in the department has gotten much more important this season, I needed to attend more meetings and calls with a lot of different people.

Never in my life, had I exercised my social skills this much, and it was only a matter of time before my social battery ran so low that I couldn't take interacting with people anymore, without looking like a total jerk.

Though, the generous paycheck that dropped into my back account every month, motivated me to work harder, well, sometimes..

I shift from my position, grabbing a single pen from its holder. Looking back up to my laptop to write down some refreshing and creative questions for the upcoming, very important and widely viewed interviews.

Winning both the national league and the Champions League in the exact same season would be absolutely insane to witness.

I had experienced the feeling in my first season working at the club. After almost three years of getting to know the team and the players who had come and gone, this year would feel even more special.

I had grown closer to the club, not just as an employee but as a supporter as well. I had multiple personal and dear connections with the club.

My father had just renewed his contract with the club. A topic that everyone working for respective companies joked about was the possibility of the agreement not being renewed.

After all these years, both companies had become synonymous with each other.

I had also gotten closer to my colleagues, much closer than I would've ever imagined. Starting this job as an eighteen-year-old, I was incredibly intimidated by the sheer size of the operations behind the scenes.

Of course, juggling both working here and studying for my law degree was hard at first. Work in the morning had switched to the evening when attending the matches.

Study breaks consisting of trying to figure out what interview questions were rubbish and needed to be scrapped, and packing my little suitcase for another trip, only to overpack again.

Thankfully, I had gotten all of my results back from this school year, and I was absolutely over the moon knowing I'd be going for my next year of my degree after summer break.

All my hard work had finally paid off when I saw my grades, and I had celebrated it that night- with working…

The biggest change in my life?

That was the fact that I had actually found love.

Going from hating each other to loving each other was a weird feeling. Even so, Jude and I had been together for almost six months now, and honestly speaking; I had never felt so loved by anyone in the entire world before.

We supported each other wholeheartedly, and it was definitely easier to do than other couples.

Mostly, because we worked together.

Living together for the first few weeks of our relationship, definitely sped up the process of actually getting to know each other. It bonded us faster than I would’ve ever expected.

Looking back, it's difficult to even imagine a world where Jude never moved into my place..

Jude had moved out of my house in the middle of March. He had changed houses following everything that had happened the last few months.

The new house is quite far away from the old, temporary house he lived in, that got broken into. The home was spacious and modern, just like I'd expected before visiting for the first time.

My father and his partners at his firm, had finally built up a proper case to take the intruder to court. I didn't know the specifics because, for some reason I wasn’t allowed to, by both my own father and Jude.

I already knew that the man who had caused so much chaos wasn't getting off the hook easily, and that was enough for me. Knowing any more details about the situation, would probably cause me more stress and anxiety, so I had just learnt to let it go.

I couldn't even lie, lately I had spent more time at Jude’s place than my own. There was something so comforting about it, maybe it was how inviting and cozy it felt.

His friends from England and Germany would always be over, for the simplest of reasons.

Playing games, both board and video ones, watching new movies in the unnecessary, huge cinema room. It created a very fun and friendly atmosphere and made me feel more comfortable than ever.

Jude’s parent’s presence, especially his mother’s- was very much appreciated. I loved chatting to her, from the most mundane things, to the things that I was worried about.

Just like the other women in my life, she gave me guidance and encouragement to keep on going and be even better at anything I wanted to accomplish.

Obviously, there was no way we could keep on hiding our relationship from certain teammates Jude was very close with. We'd decided to be open with them, because keeping a 'secret' from them wouldn't exactly give us peace of mind in the long run.

Scratching what I've written down so far, I drop my pen onto the desk. Glancing up at the clock to check the time, and gasping softly when I remember I have a meeting that starts in a minute.

I quickly grab the necessary paperwork, and dash out of the office. Into the meeting room, already full of my coworkers, sat waiting only for me..

"Okay, I'm really confused. Do I have something on my face? Like sauce from lunch or something?" The puzzled y/n asks, turning around in her office chair, only to glance at the busy Lina.

"Uh.." The older woman begins, looking up from her monitor and shaking her head.

"Nope, no sauce. Why?" Lina takes her hand off the computer mouse, sighing before leaning back.

"Everyone has been looking at me, like since- this morning.." y/n rolls her chair forward, holding out her foot, to stop herself from violently slamming into Lina's desk.

"You think? I thought it was because your dress looked cute.."

Lina smirks at her own words, her hand reaching over to grab her purple water bottle, swiftly taking the top off and chugging a couple gulps.

y/n scoffs, glancing down at the dress she's wearing. Yes, of course the dress is cute, that's why she wore it today. But the stares she got were definitely not in appreciation of the cream-colored dress.

"Are you serious? I don't think-"

She's cut off by a loud knock. Both women break eye contact, looking up at the glass doors where someone is standing in front of.

"Jude?" y/n perks up, standing up from her chair and making a beeline towards him. Ignoring the unnecessarily loud and teasing whistle leaving Lina's mouth.

Stepping outside, she furrows her brows, looking around for anyone who could eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Follow me.." Jude can only say, immediately starting to walk down the stairs without sparing another second.

"What are you-" She trails off, sighing in defeat, before following him down, into one of the empty meditation rooms.

She looks at Jude as he locks the door behind them, his hand immediately reaching to wrap around her waist. He pulls her closer than ever, planting a kiss on her lips.

"Something wrong?" She asks, picking up on his stressed out demeanor. Pulling back, she scans his face once again.

"I have to show you something, but don't freak out, yeah? I called your dad already, and he said he'll see what he can do.."

This only sends her into a panic, his warning going over her head as she watches him pull his phone out of his pocket. Arms flexing underneath his training jacket as he moves.

She looks at him with a confused frown on her face, her eyes almost popping out of her head when Jude shows what was so important.

Grabbing the phone out of his hand without thinking, she brings the device closer to her face. A small noise of annoyance leaving her mouth.

It's all photos of the couple, outside during various times they had been on dates for the past- six months.

"This one's from Valencia, and this one's from that night in Mallorca?!" y/n exclaims, hands shaking as she tries to scroll through the other photos. All off guard pictures of them, taken while they were out together, after matches, and even on dates in Madrid.

Noticing how distressed the photos make his girlfriend, Jude grabs his phone out of her hand. Setting it down on the table next to him, he grabs onto her shoulders, making her look up at him.

"It's okay, we prepared for this, remember? I won't let my team put out a statement, apart from legal action. Your dad's handling it with my team, okay?" He brings her frazzled form into a reassuring hug, planting kisses on her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

Of course, just like her boyfriend explains- they knew their relationship couldn't be kept secret for much longer. Jude, being the high profile football player he is, couldn't exactly keep people from prying into his private life.

She knew that the media had caught a whiff of her, even back when they despised each other. The night at Wembley Stadium months ago, had caused a little commotion back then.

The gossip pages and newspapers loved a story containing love, a successful and beloved young man, and not to forget- her having actual connections to the club in both work, and her father's partnership with the club.

To the couple, when they entered the training center or the stadium, they would work at that particular day- it was about work and work only.

When they clocked in, they prioritized working. It would've obviously been very difficult for them to keep their relationship on the low- if they glanced at each other every damn second, while in the same room.

During working hours, they'd greet each other like their other colleagues, acting like they didn't make out the night before in his room.

Unavoidably, the players who knew about them dating, would try their best to sneak little jokes and teases in. The couple would successfully brush off the comments.

Practicing all these months made the perfect facade, but sometimes the jokes were too good not to chuckle, at least very discreetly.

"Okay, I trust you.." She mutters, pressing her face into her chest, a soft hum leaving her mouth. Thoughts and worries swirling through her mind.

"Baby! I'm ready!" I shout, almost falling flat on my face while pulling on my new heels.

These red bottoms were absolute hell to wear, especially since I had just gotten them as a gift, from Jude.

It would take some time before I could break them in, but with how stunning they looked paired with this dress, it was worth the pain, at least tonight.

To celebrate winning the league, Jude and I were finally going on a date. It had been a while since we had been on a proper date night, mostly due to how busy we both have been lately.

Jude with training and I with preparing everything, from interviews to social media posts, and even some press releases that needed to be out before the Champions League final that was in a couple days.

"I'm here.." I walk out of his bedroom, chuckling at the sheer amount of my clothes stuffed in his closet.

We had been staying over at each other's place on and off, but looking at both our closets, you'd think we'd been living together again.

Considering how important the past few weeks had been, Jude had been training a lot. I was especially worried about him and his health, mainly thinking of his shoulder injury.

His doctor and the team's physiotherapist had reassured me personally, but still, I could help but wince every time he touched his shoulder and grunted. Or seeing the multiple, pain-stopping injections, he had to take to play a full ninety minutes.

"You look handsome.." I mutter when reaching the front door, pressing a kiss onto his plump lips, my hands reaching to fix the collar of his button down. My lipgloss leaving a sheen of glitter on his lips, it making me chuckle as he gave me a dumbfounded look.

We’re fairly young, and early in our relationship, we realized that fancy dates weren't really our thing. But tonight was one of the few occasions we'd go all out, and dress up very nicely.

"You look absolutely stunning, love.." He smiles, his hand circling around my waist and down my back, fingers digging into the fabric of my dress.

"Thank you, baby.." I hum, giving him a small wink. A loud chuckle leaves my lips as he attempts to wink back, though, just like every time, it looks like he's got something in his eyes, instead of being cheeky.

"What's so funny, hm?" Jude questions, hands trailing down to grip at my bum, squeezing slightly.

"Mhm, nothing.." I say, reaching up to fix his hair a little. "Should we leave? It's getting late.."

He agrees instantly, and I wrap my arm around his as we walk out of his house. The sun hadn't set yet, mostly because summer was coming soon, and I couldn't wait to enjoy the weather this year, yet again.

"Wait- I didn't grab my keys.." I gasp, eyes going wide as I watch him pull the door shut.

"Oh, you're definitely not driving missy, especially not in those heels.." Jude says, giving me a cheeky smile, and I can immediately sense that he is hiding something.

"You got your license?!" I beam, eyes glistening in happiness. Though, my excitement is cut short when he shakes his head, an embarrassed look on his face.

"No, I did not get my license.."

"Oh.." I say, the corners of my mouth twitching as I hold back a menacing laugh.

"So, you'll be my passenger prince forever?" I bring my hand up to grab onto his bicep, squeezing the muscles as my body leans against his.

"Will you ever stop saying that?" I watch his lips move, eyes glimmering when his lips pull into a slight pout.

"When you get your license, sir. I'll stop calling you my passenger prince..."

"I'm sure you would like a break from it then.." Jude says, his expression changing to a smug one within a split-second, and I follow his lead without thinking.

My uncomfortable heels click against the concrete as Jude leads me outside the gates of the house, a sleek black Rolls Royce parked right in front of the driveway.

"You got a driver for tonight?" I ask, eyes fixated on the, admittedly sexy car.

"Going all out for my lovey tonight. I've got to spoil my girl, always.."

I grin at his sweet words, warmth reaching my face, and I suddenly feel shyness creeping up on me. I shift my gaze for a second, avoiding eye contact with him and staring at the concrete.

"Aw, is my pretty girl shy now? You weren't like this a moment ago, huh?" A soft noise of protest leaves my mouth at the loving words. My breath hitching as he presses a kiss on my neck, right against my jugular.

"Come on, love. We'll be very late to our reservation if I keep you here longer.." Jude gives me a charming smile, grabbing onto my hand and pulling me towards the car, making me forget whatever my thoughts were before he'd made my heart flutter.

"I'm sweating literal buckets. I can't even breathe properly right now.." My eyes immediately shift to Luis, my right eye twitching, just like it has been on and off this entire day. The stress and anxiety of this all had been building up in us both, causing actual physical symptoms to show.

"Ask me about it, I went peeing two times already, and we're just seventy minutes into this match.." I say, wiping my sweaty hands down my black jeans. The laptop and phone on my lap shaking, as I bounce my knee up and down in anticipation.

My heart also leaped in my throat every time Jude got fouled. Checking the stats confirmed my suspicion, he currently is the most fouled player on the pitch.

I obviously knew it was a part of the game, but considering his injury- I couldn't help but be worried.

"Fuck, I swear if we score, I'm going to lose my shit." Luis says, running a hand through his curly hair, and I can almost feel the nerves radiating off of him.

Well, all 90.000 people in Wembley Stadium feel the exact same way right now. From supporters to chairmen of both respective clubs, sitting on the edge of their seats as we all watched the Champions League final between Real Madrid and Borussia Dortmund unfold, live in front of our own two eyes.

My breath hitches in my throat as we're given a corner. The grip on my phone getting tighter as Luis glances at me.

"Okay, we got this, Toni's so experienced-"

"Shut up, I'm trying to focus.." I exclaim, grabbing onto Luis' shoulder to calm him down.

"You can't exactly focus with 90,000 people screaming.." He replies, glancing at me.

I open my mouth to speak, but decide to spare my breath, and stop breathing in anticipation.

Right, at that moment, Toni kicks the ball from the corner flag, it flies upwards as we watch both our players and Dortmund players scramble in front of the goal.

Finally, Dani jumps up and GOALLLL!!

The entire Madridista side jumps up in celebration, my devices almost slipping out of my hand and onto the floor as we jump up to cheer as loud as we can.

"I'm going to kiss Dani's forehead after this!" Luis screams, making me choke on my laughter. I hurry up and return my attention back to my devices, as happy as we were, we still had our job to do and execute.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm down, before we both go back to doing our jobs.

Our wishes and prayers for a second goal aren't that far away, time-wise. Dortmund player Maatsen tries passing the ball, due to a wrong estimation, Jude gets the ball instead, shooting to Vini.

He goes on to score the second banger of the night. The stadium erupts in both cheers of happiness and screams of protest.

It's even louder than after the first goal, and we know it's only a matter of five minutes before our boys secure the victory over this season's Champions League..

y/n fixes her shirt for the nth time, trying to fidget with something before she loses her mind. Standing in the tunnel, she glances at Luis. Both of their eyes glimmering, as they wait for the families of the players to enter the pitch to celebrate the win.

They were insanely busy with handling their work, channelling their emotions into doing their job, to make sure it's all taken care of before they were done for the night. The automated system, consisting of already edited work, would take care of the rest from now on...

"Dude, what just happened?.." Luis whispers, glancing at the equally mesmerized girl next to him.

"We won!" She squeals, letting her excitement and happiness show as she hugs Luis. "Fuck, I don't even know what I would do if we lost. I'd actually be having a breakdown right now.."

Luis hugs her back, patting her head affectionately.

"You've worked very hard, y/n. Thank you for being my best friend and best colleague.." He says, giving her a brotherly smile.

"Thank you too, older brother.." She laughs, voice slightly teasing, as she pats his shoulder.

"Oh, I think we can join the celebrations.." He says, pointing to the families they’ve gotten very close with over the years.

The familiar faces joining their loved one on the pitch to celebrate this huge milestone in their careers.

"Come on.." Luis says, dragging her along and onto the pitch.

She looks around, a permanent smile plastered on her face as she's overwhelmed by the emotions running through her body.

"Dani!" Luis shouts, and y/n watches him run up to the goal scorer, just like his promise- Luis plants a fat kiss on the athlete's head.

y/n laughs loudly at the interaction, making eye contact with Dani’s wife, and laughing even harder at her confused expression.

She shakes her head at her best friend’s antics. Realizing she's alone now, she freezes. Cameras were absolutely everywhere at the moment, and she was absolutely sure at least one was pointed towards her.

The weeks following the photos of their dates being leaked were quite turbulent, with a lot of support, but also criticism- it was very difficult to ignore the reactions.

She wasn't anywhere close to wanting to be a public figure of some sort, so the attention was putting a lot of pressure on her.

But loving a star athlete, like Jude meant having to sacrifice some part of her privacy. If it meant she could run up to him now, and kiss his face a couple of times.

Then screw privacy, she'd throw that all away to get to him right now.

Her eyes darting to the rest of the enormous pitch again, frowning when she can't find the boy she's so desperately looking for.

Finally, after squinting a whole lot, and definitely causing damage to her eye muscles, she finally makes eye contact with the equally lost looking Jude.

He's standing in between both his parents, arms around them as he looks around wearily.

Jude's eyes immediately light up in relief when he spots y/n, mumbling something to his smiley parents before he makes a run for it.

Within seconds, he's by his girlfriend's side, and she jumps up to wrap her legs around his waist in greeting. He pulls her flush against him in a tight embrace. y/n cups his jaw tenderly to place multiple kisses on his face.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, baby.." She breathes out, cut off as he presses his lips onto hers, exhilarating kiss that makes them forget other people are around, and especially the hundreds of cameras and phones filming the pitch.

He catches her lips, plump lips sucking onto her bottom lip before they're forced to pull back for air. They pant, faces warm, and cheeks hurting from how much they'd smiled within the past couple minutes.

"I'm proud of you too, baby. Come on, you're my family too. Forget about work and the cameras here for me, yeah?”

She plants her shoes back onto the grass when he lowers back on the floor. She looks down as he grabs onto her hand. Playing with her fingers as he makes eye contact with her.

Reaching up, she swipes at a piece of grass stuck on his temple, probably from being fouled earlier, she chuckles at the sight, biting her lip.

“Come on, then. Your parents are waiting..” She says, turning and dragging him along the pitch. Skipping towards his awaiting, happy parents. Who look at them with an infinite amount of joy and proudness in their eyes.

“He’s a winner! Jude’s our winner!!”

[diminuel]

I love your Crocodile so much, and love the idea of him showing how much he cares about his kids, in his own way. What do you think his reaction would be when Crocodile saw Luffy on level 6 when he came to save Ace?

Thank you ;w;

If we're talking Stinky Child AU I'm still trying to figure out how Ace' imprisonment would have gone! Would Crocodile and Ace react to each other? Would it be safe to risk exposing a connection even though it's hard to imagine how things could get even worse?

I think the despair Crocodile would feel knowing that Ace is down here, that he couldn't protect him would be immense. Worse than any torture he might have endured in Impel Down. Not only is Ace facing a public execution, he knows that this is going to change the world in one way or another. Most likely both WB and Dragon will be pushed to move and while Crocodile doesn't care about WB running into a trap, he does not want Dragon to be there.

And yet, when Hancock delivers the news that Luffy is coming? He's never felt as horrified as then, because Luffy is just a child (yes, he's an adult by Goa law but he's a baby, his baby!). He is just an inexperienced rookie that only managed to beat Crocodile because Crocodile couldn't fight him properly. How did he get here? There is no way that he can survive a siege on Impel Down! He'll lose Ace, Dragon and Sabo will be pulled into a trap that will most likely kill them and end what Dragon has been fighting for for so long, Luffy is going to die here. Everything Crocodile has done was for nothing! He failed everything he set out to do!

But then... Luffy shows up when Crocodile feels like all hope is lost. Against all odds, Luffy is here, alive, with familiar allies.

He feels fortified by this, Luffy's appearance like a breath of air, like sunshine on his skin. If they get him out then he'll make a difference. Luffy got so far, Crocodile will make sure he gets out of Impel Down.

But Luffy would of course be shocked and pained to know that Crocodile was down here and he didn't know! I don't know if it would be safe for Crocodile to hug him or to tell him he loves him and all is good, but maybe a hand on Luffy's shoulder and a smile would be enough to settle Luffy's anxieties.

And then they're off to save Ace!

[lunargrrrl]

Lights, Camera, Magic

Agatha Harkness sits in the director's chair of some of your favourite movies. Your world suddenly turns upside down when you're invited to audition for her latest screenplay, "Witching Hour".

Chapter 16

director!agatha harkness x fem!reader | slow burn | power dynamics | eventual smut | oh and agatha is a top in this, ofc | praise kink | smut | thank you all for your patience | i'm really bad at posting on tumblr

Dinner is served in a grand dining room, with elegant chandeliers casting a golden glow over the tables. Soft jazz plays in the background, mingling with the clinks of silverware and chatter. You glance at the set name placeholders, realising you’re seated slightly away from Agatha, opposite her and a few seats down, next to none other than Rio Vidal—the captivating woman you encountered on the roof terrace just moments ago. She exudes confidence in a tailored dark grey suit that perfectly complements her striking features and cool energy.

“I'm really glad I’m sitting next to you instead of some of these lizards,” Rio says, her voice light. “At least you know how to keep a conversation interesting. The last guy I talked to just wouldn’t stop bragging about his latest blockbuster flop.”

You chuckle. “I can imagine. It’s refreshing to talk to someone who’s real. I’m just trying to enjoy the moment and not get caught up in all the Hollywood nonsense. It’s all just… so intense.”

Rio nods. “Totally get that. It can feel like everyone’s just playing a part, trying to outshine one another. I mean, I love this industry, but sometimes it’s exhausting.” She glances around the room, lowering her voice. “I swear, if I have to hear one more person talk about their ‘vision’ for a film that’s been in development hell for years, I might just lose it.”

You laugh softly in reply as she leans in closer, a playful smile on her lips. “So, tell me, what do you do when you’re not charming the socks off everyone in this room?”

You take a sip of your drink, feeling the warmth of her compliment. “Well, the past year has just been so crazy, I don’t even know anymore. One minute, I was working for some tech company in my first job out of college, and the next, I’m here, auditioning for movies after some guy spotted me in a coffee shop. It feels like a dream that I’m just trying to keep up with.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Talk about a plot twist. Honestly, I see why someone would want to scout you. It’s no wonder people can’t help but notice you.”

You laugh, feeling a flutter of connection. As dinner progresses, the conversation flows easily, filled with laughter and shared stories. As you chat, you can feel Agatha's gaze on you from across the table, her expression a mix of interest and something else—jealous, perhaps. 

That familiar, possessive gaze that refuses to leave.

-*-✨-*-

Dinner draws to a close as the servers begin to prepare the table for dessert. Rio is mid-story when her hand brushes against yours as she gestures animatedly. “And then I told him, ‘If you think that’s impressive, wait until you see my next project!’” she finishes, a grin on her lips.

You burst into laughter, and the moment is light. Friendly. But then, you catch Agatha’s eyes flicking toward you, narrowing as she engages with the heavyweight next to her, flashing a smile that feels a touch too flirtatious for comfort.

You try to shake off the discomfort, refocusing on Rio. “So, what’s next for you? Tell me about that project you’re crewing up for next year?”

“Oh yeah, it’s a new script that I think will turn some heads, I reckon you’d be a perfect fit for one of the roles,” Rio replies, her enthusiasm infectious. “It’s a dark comedy about—”

But your attention drifts as you catch another glimpse of Agatha, who is now leaning a bit too close to her companion, laughing a little too hard at something they say. Her fingers graze their wrist, and you feel a knot of annoyance tighten in your stomach.

You turn back to Rio, forcing a smile. “That sounds amazing...”

As you attempt to redirect the conversation, Agatha’s laughter rings out again, this time drawing out her iconic cackle, and you feel the heat of frustration bubble up inside you. You steal another glance at her, catching her playing with the producer’s fingers, and that’s it.

“Excuse me for a second...” you mutter under your breath, pushing back your chair with a noise that draws attention. You stand abruptly, not caring if anyone is looking, and storm away from the table, the air around you suddenly feeling too stifling.

As you pace towards the exit, the soft murmur of conversation behind you fades, drowned out by the thudding of your heart in your chest. You reach the elevator, and the doors begin to slide shut just as you take a breath to steady yourself.

And the second that the doors almost close, is the same second that a hand shoots out, catching the door and forcing it back open.

Agatha.

Your mouth goes dry, and your heart skips, responding to her presence like clockwork.

“Going somewhere?” she asks, her voice smooth as silk, laced with an undertone that makes your pulse quicken.

“I just needed some air,” you reply, trying to sound casual, but the way she’s looking at you makes it impossible to hide the tremor in your voice.

“Air?” she echoes, stepping closer, her gaze steady and piercing. “Why? You seemed pretty… relaxed out there with Rio.”

Frustration bubbles up inside you, and you do your best to hold your composure. “And what about you? I saw you flirting with that producer all dinner.”

Agatha tilts her head, an amused smile dancing on her lips. “Flirting? Hardly. I was simply being professional, and sometimes you need to play into their hands in this industry.” Her expression furrows as she steps even closer, the air between you thick with electricity. “But I’ll admit, it’s adorable how you think you can tease me and get away with it, pet.”

She continues, leaning in, “Two can play at this game, sweetheart. Do you think I didn’t notice the way she looked at you? I think you were forgetting who you belong to.”

Your breath hitches at her words, the possessive undertone igniting within you. “Well, maybe I’m not so easy to claim.”

“Oh, but I think you are.” She steps closer, closing the space between you, “You just need a little reminder.”

Before you can respond, Agatha closes the distance between you with one swift, powerful motion, slamming you against the wall of the elevator. The cool metal presses against your back, causing you to gasp.

“Agatha…” you breathe, but she silences you with her lips, crashing into you with a fervour that ignites every nerve ending in your body. The kiss is urgent and demanding, her hands framing your face as she tilts your head to deepen the connection. You melt against her, responding with equal intensity, the frustration and heat of the moment fuelling your desire.

You gasp helplessly into her hot mouth as she brushes her tongue against yours, igniting a wildfire of longing that tears through you. Her kiss is a heady mix of passion and desperation, each sweep of her tongue sends shivers shaking all over you. You feel her breath hot and rapid against your skin, mixing with the soft sighs that escape from your lips.

Every second stretches into eternity as you lose yourself in her, the world outside the elevator fading into darkness. You explore the intoxicating taste of her lips, rich with the hint of the champagne you shared; the overwhelming strength of her hold wraps around you like a spell. You run your hands up her blazer, your fingers reaching and tangling in her long brown hair, pulling her even closer.

You want to surrender yourself to her completely.

A soft moan escapes your mouth, echoing in the confined space, and Agatha responds immediately, deepening the kiss. It’s as if she craves the sound, as if every whimper from your lips is a reward she cannot resist. Her mouth captures every ounce of your breath, each kiss a sweet torment that leaves you aching for more. She pulls your bottom lip into her mouth, teasingly grazing it with her teeth, sending a rush pooling through you that makes you whimper louder.

And the second that sound slips past your lips, is the same second that Agatha can’t contain the low, throaty sigh that escapes her.

Time seems to compress, each heartbeat reverberating in your chest, leaving you breathless and aching for more, as if every inch of you is ablaze—and only Agatha has the power to quell the flames.

And then, without a word, she reaches into her pocket, retrieving a sleek hotel key card. You manage to catch a glimpse of what it swipes on the elevator panel:

Penthouse Suite

Your breath catches.

Your heart thuds.

Every inch of you pulses at the implication.

Breaking the kiss once more, Agatha pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression a mix of possessiveness and desire.

“It’s time to show you who you really belong to.”

Continue reading on AO3:

[rosesdrop]

Pick a pile

Which Disney Princess are you?

Pile 1:

Rapunzel, you must have really pretty hair; it's very noticeably beautiful and outstanding for anyone who sees you. You may have your head in the clouds, usually busy dreaming and fantasising about the next adventure to take. You dream big. And most of your dreams revolve around going on a trip somewhere, to a different land, or generally just taking a step into the unknown and never coming back. You are flighty in that way; no one can pin you down or decide your future for you; you leave it to your expansive and ever-growing imagination. Aside from that, I'm also noticing here your childlike soul and appearance; you like to have fun even if it's just by yourself; your peers recognise that in you and enjoy spending happy times with you; you have a sunny aura; and the sun may be highly significant for you. You also may have authoritative figures around you that try to dim your light or take that childlessness away from you, and you are in a constant fight with those that try to limit you. I'm also getting that you have a small circle of friends or people that you surround yourself with. 

Pile 2:

Alice is your Disney character (even though she wasn't a princess but is still a Disney main character after all). You are so connected to another parallel version of yourself; you like to create different realities and experience multiple stances in them; you have an eccentric style, generally known to be different, maybe odd for some people but really challenging to understand; your style is very outstanding and reflects your rich inner world, a world rich in fantasies and colors; you always felt different from your peers but more connected than ever to a world so far from our mundane lives; that's where you found home. You are probably an animal lover, but you are more inclined to be interested in exotic species or animals that are not very popular and loved among people. Others may sometimes perceive you as deceitful, quick to change, or unstable in your decisions because of this abnormality that you represent in their eyes, but it's just because it's hard for them to understand how your mind works.

Pile 3:

Merida from brave is your princess; you are stubborn from the view of others but stable and know what you want in your view; you voice your needs and you like for your voice to be heard; you may believe in the supernatural and believe that the universe works for your favour and that whatever you wish, if you concentrate on it, you can bring it into reality; you have a strong will. You don't like to be caged or controlled by others, and that sometimes infuriates you. You like to get against the stream. You work hard and prefer to be independent in your work. You like it to be something that you made with your effort and time. You have very strong features, but they're not very sharp. There's a sense of stillness and stability in your gaze, even if it's penetrating. You may enjoy or prefer medieval clothing because it makes you feel secure in yourself, and, down to earth, you get angry and competitive easily because you are in constant contact with those who try to dictate their beliefs to you. 

Pile 4:

Belle is your princess; you may have an infatuation with roses; you like to surround yourself with a pretty aesthetic that is appreciated by everyone; you are a calm person in the face of adversity; people may be in a constant debate about their needs while you are just chilling and enjoying your time. You slightly have your head in the clouds, but that doesn't distort your perception. You are a problem solver, and you take your time in making your judgements about things. People admire you for that and feel like they can't compare. You have a certain pride about yourself that makes you sure about yourself without having to brag; you are silently succeeding. You're also protected by your guides, spirits, or good entities that can see your purity clearly and help you through adversity. You always prioritise yourself and have a strong sense of self-worth. 

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic Nanami(JJK) concept?

I can try, sure! Hope you enjoy him :) I had trouble writing his character as I guess I didn't connect with him as much as others? But I still enjoy him.

Yandere! Kento Nanami Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Stalking, Degrading behavior, Isolation, Childish punishment, Forced relationship.

Nanami doesn't seem like the type of person who easily gets attached to people.

He's learned that's a poor choice since he was young.

In fact, his youth was stolen from him due to his role as a sorcerer.

He's reserved and often not emotional/sentimental.

He's blunt and doesn't mince words.

So I imagine manipulation with him is the same, no flowery language or words to soften the blow.

He'd just be blunt and state you need him or something similar.

He'd be strict and serious, not expressing much weakness or emotion.

He's hard to read and can be an intimidating yandere.

Which would make Nanami another yandere who's unpredictable in this universe.

Except for him... it's because he rarely shows emotion or what he's thinking at all.

He's not necessarily possessive in my eyes... but he's certainly protective and I wouldn't doubt it if he was isolating too.

Nanami would believe all he does for you is for your own good.

So every person he scares off, every curse he gets rid of, every lock he places on your gilded cage by his side...

All to keep you safe... and hopefully happy.

He's quick to irritate which doesn't help with his strict behavior.

He seems like the type of yandere to scold his darling like a child, even when they're in a relationship.

You could be a sorcerer just like him... and he treats you like you'll die without him.

In a way, you can excuse this as him being scared to lose you like he's lost so many others.

But he still shouldn't do this... part of him knows that.

If you weren't a sorcerer then he tries his hardest to shield you from such a life.

If you were, it's like he wants you to quit.

Nanami would always watch you like a stern hawk.

As though you'll get hurt if he doesn't.

Sometimes he's sociable but often he prefers to just stay... reserved.

You are one of the only ones he really bothers to talk to that doesn't seem forced.

He's fond of you, really is, but is obviously not the most sentimental person.

Even as a partner he seems to act suffocating.

It's like a parent watching a child sometimes.

You can tell him off about this, complain he doesn't give you enough credit.

You can try to convince him you can take care of yourself.

But he just... refuses to believe it.

Nanami's affection is often silent.

Things like quiet (yet tight) hugs along with kisses.

While Nanami can be condescending, he's loving in his own way.

He seems like the type to want his spouse to be a house spouse.

Big house with security, you staying home all the time, it would soothe a lot of his stresses...

Plus, coming home to you would make him feel a lot better.

He likes the idea of a traditional life.

Maybe no kids, but you at home, and him coming to spoil you when he's home.

Would Nanami kidnap? Not really.

I feel it's a bit too out of character for him and his yandere type.

He's a yandere who lurks in the background of your life primarily before eventually confronting you.

He'd use manipulation but it's often taken as concern or orders.

For example, if he asks you to stay around him due to the Curse activity in the area, you'd most likely listen as you trust him.

Even more so when he becomes your boyfriend.

You may even understand his concern and not register it as toxic.

In a world where Curses exist around every corner, you understand when Nanami expresses concern.

Although, it can quickly start getting toxic when he removes your independence... "to keep you safe."

He does this by offering you to move into his home or convincing you to quit your job.

Would Nanami get jealous? He isn't very... open about it.

Like most emotions he tends to not show it.

It would be very subtle cues like clenching a fist or gripping a table.

He doesn't trust many around you but tolerates it.

Only because he knows you're his when you get home.

While he's mostly overprotective, a subtle feeling of possessiveness is hinted at in his actions.

Things like tight holds or rough kisses when you're alone show that in him.

Nanami doesn't entirely tolerate you fighting with him.

Arguments occur at times, especially when Nanami tries to coax you into giving up your independence.

He thinks you're being childish at times when in reality he's the one being paranoid.

Nanami may also punish you like a child, which just makes things more degrading.

Stupid things like, you sit in your room kinda thing (or spanking I guess).

Nanami no doubt means well... in his eyes.

But he takes it too far, unfortunately.

Would Nanami murder rivals? No.

He knows he's insane for being a Sorcerer (and keeping you in your shared home) but he draws the line at... petty murder.

The most he does is keep you at your shared home and away from people.

He feels that's where you're safest... and it reassures him you're his.

He shows his appreciation through affection... maybe even gifts.

He does seem like he'd buy you gifts, be that clothes or items he thinks you'll like.

Holding you close is comfort to him, his stresses melting easily in your presence.

His biggest issue is he's just overprotective... right?

It's not like he isolates you to keep you to himself, right?

He's... He's just concerned, right?

Giving you gifts and affection isn't to distract you, is it?

Nanami just wants you safe from potential danger because he cares...

He'd never isolate you for any other reason... right?

[kurokawaia]

❛ Clan Rules ❜

Hyuga Neji X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.3k + | TW/CW; fab!fem!Reader, just angst, ANGST!

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: can you write something with angst for neji hyuga? - @ipodic

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: She never imagined falling in love with with him... The rules of the Hyuga clan are rigid and unforgiving, especially for those who are not part of it.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list

The moon cast its silver light over the Hyuga clan training grounds, shadows from the trees playing around in the cool night breeze. In actual fact, I had been looking forward to seeing Neji since his return from some mission, but by the time I reached him, something told me that all was not right.

He stood alone in the clearing, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his head bent as though lost deep in thought. He seemed to bleed sharp definition, cornered off from everything that was around him. The sharp definition that seemed to etch out of his very being had dulled, replaced with heavy, subdued weariness. Where normally intense focus shone out of his eyes, now it was but a shadow.

"Neji?" I whispered, tinged with just a hint of concern. There was no answer; it hung there, in the heavy silence between us and could have been cut with a knife. Of course, Neji wasn't going to let me get away with just worrying for nothing. "Is everything okay?" I said, finally taking a step closer, my hand going out tentatively to lay on him.

He winced at the sound of my voice, almost as though it caused him physical pain. A moment it was before he looked up at me, and something in the bogged emotion that plastered his face into a stiff mask I couldn't place. Regret? Guilt? His words came out slow, as if he had to force them into existence.

"There is something I need to say," he finally began in a tightened voice; that is, he could barely breathe out the words. It was very clear that what he needed to say was going to be hard—for him and probably even more so for me.

And then I felt like a ton of bricks were falling into my stomach as I stepped forth, trying to look him in the eyes, but Neji just kept looking down on the ground.

"What's wrong?" I said again, my voice now shaking and slurred with this rising sense of dread. My skin grew cold—a cold washing over the night air and through me—some sort of pressure weighing down on me, squeezing at my heart.

Neji finally broke the silence, and his next words seemed to weight heavy enough that my very breathing hitched as he said, "we can never see each other again." My world seemed to tilt; the earth seemed to shift under my feet. I never thought he would say those words to me.

"Why? What happened?" I asked, my voice shaking in desperation. The Hyuga clan have their rules, but we were so cautious. We had our meetings tucked away, out of the way, always away from prying eyes of the clan; it had to be enough. I thought we were safe.

My eyes barely saw Neji slump his shoulders, but it was a battle in that gaze once he lifted them. A battle full of conflict and sorrow. "It's the clan," he said not politely, sorrow thick now and voice low. "They don't allow relationships with outsiders. If they find out, they'll punish us both. I can't let that happen to you."

My eyes welled up in an instant, the vision blurring. "Neji, we'll find a way," I said, reaching out my hand towards him as he walked back, putting in the sudden distance that seemed insurmountable. "And we'll be careful. We can—"

"No." He cut me off with the shake of his head. His voice was tight with urgency in his actions. "It's not that simple. The Main Branch watches over everyone. If they find out, they won't just punish me. They'll come after you. But I can't risk that."

Each of his words was like a hammer inside me, the kind that was driven into my heart. I knew he was right. But it was a truth I did not want to accept. And I took another step forward, reaching out to place my hand against his cheek. I needed that connection. Any connection in this moment between us. His body tensed, the muscles tightening under my touch, but he didn't pull away. "Neji, please," I continued, tears streaming openly now. "''We don't have to give up. There's always another way.''

He closed his eyes a moment and leaned into my embrace, like a man hoping to find reprieve, if only for a moment, from a burden too heavy to bear. But it was a short-lived reprieve, and he pulled away, leaving a vacuum where my hand was. It was there in his eyes, not hidden, the pain reaching out to bang relentlessly on my heart. "My fate is sealed," he'd say, full of regret, his voice heavy. "But I can't change it, no matter how much I might want to."

It felt like this crumbling world; somehow, the ground split beneath my feet, leaving a deep abyss dividing us. I wish to God I could bring him back, somehow bridge that unyielding rift, which even the Hyuga clans' laws set before us. Challenging them would be to risk everything we both cared about—yes, maybe even our lives.

"Neji, please don't go," I implored, my voice raw and splitting. The tears streamed down my cheeks, and my heart ached in desperation. I wanted to fight for him, for us, but what was the use? The iron grip of the Hyuga household control was too hard, and any defiance might rip consequences on the heads of us both.

He gazed back at me, charged with the same sadness and lament that expressed in my eyes. "I wish it didn't have to be like this," he had that soft voice, where every spoken word became an essence of goodbye. "I will always care about you, but I cannot stay; it's too dangerous." And then he turned and walked away. The steps echoed through the silent night, cutting into my heart with every echo.

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him that we could fight this together, but his eyes told me it was useless. He wasn't just deciding; he was resigning himself to a life decided by others, his happiness cast aside to keep me safe.

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him we could fight this together, but the look in his eyes told me that would be pointless. He wasn't just making a choice; he was submitting himself to a life told by others, his happiness sacrificed on the altar of my safety.

"Neji," I whispered, fighting in my voice with the rust of leaves, "I just can't see my life without you." Every syllable seemed to be a plea, one for keeping from letting go what could not let through.

He stopped, a dark figure against the blue-gray glow of the moonset, and turned around over his shoulder to look back at me. There, in the silver brightness, I was able to see something shining forth from the pale eye—a glint of unshed tears. The scowl faded from his face, replaced by something more tender and reflective of the ache in my treated heart.

"Nor I," he admitted, the sound of his voice barely more than a thread in the darkness. All raw, vulnerable exposure, his admission bared depths of his own pain. "But you and I have to. It's the only way for me to keep you safe."

The moon cast a cold silvery hue over the empty training grounds, which would eventually play a role in the sensation of loneliness stealing over me.

So much I wanted to run after him, take him by the hand, and beg him not to leave, but nothing would alter.

It would only be worse for both of us.

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