#<- that's a tag right. that's one of my tags. right. right
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your boyfriend buys you a pretty golden necklace with his initials, not knowing it will only intensify the urge to claim you as his own in every way.
tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, gojo early 30’s). possessive. talks of marriage. unprotected. breēding kink; crēampies. jealousy. pregnancy kink? reader gets called ‘baby, sweetheart, mama’ not proofread; excuse the grammar. wc: 1.7k
“look at that, baby,” satoru coos as he watches the golden necklace bounce around your collarbone with each wet thrust. it’s a 24k pure gold necklace he purchased just today, with his initials on it.
something inside him stirred the moment he put it on you. satoru couln’t help himself from pinning you to the couch and claiming you as his own for the nth time. it doesn’t matter how many times he fucks you; it’s never enough.
the letters ‘sg’ are shimmering under the light of the living room. the older man is grinning from ear to ear, nearly cumming from the sight of you wearing that necklace alone. it’s a sign of possession to him. you’re his—you’re only his. he’s the only one who can touch you like this.
“shit, ‘t makes me wanna put a ring on it,” satoru hisses, one of his hands pressing down on your lower tummy. you gasp and clutch at his broad back, nails digging into his flesh quite painfully. “i think i’d engrave my initials on the inside of the ring too, what do ya think?”
each word is punctuated with a thrust. his hips are non-stop ramming into yours, claiming even the deepest spots of your body beneath him. he leans down to trail kisses down your sensitive neck, eliciting a couple whines from your lips.
“d’y wanna get married, sweetheart?” the sudden proposal takes you off guard. you can’t believe satoru would ask such a thing while being balls deep inside you. you’re blabbering nonsense, your voice muffled due to the saliva building up in your mouth.
“m— married? babe, are you ser-” your question is left unanswered as your boyfriend kisses your plump lips. he switches to a slow and gentle pace, grinding into your needy cunt until it leaves you shaking. his fingers play with the golden jewelry around your neck.
a necklace will do. as long as you’ll wear that accessory from this day forward, he’ll be satisfied. the urge to make you his forever partner could be satiated. for now, that is. he knows you still have a bright future ahead of you, like getting your degree and first ever proper job.
“let’s have you finish university first, yeah?” satoru smiles down at you after detaching his lips from yours. he watches the string of saliva hang between your mouths, giving a short hum once it snaps. his big hand slithers down to cup your breast and knead it, kissing your nipple whilst holding eye contact, “i can wait for you.”
satoru sighs as he rolls his tongue around your hardened nipple. he’s drooling over your breasts, a drunken glint in his eyes. he’s so obsessed with you to the point that he’d marry you right now if he could. that proposal wasn’t a joke—but he figured that it also wasn’t the smartest.
he’ll give you a proper and serious proposal one day. though, now you know for sure that he’s gotten into this relationship with the thought of actually marrying you.
“but i also—fuck—can’t wait,” satoru whines, feeling your walls clamp down on his thick cock. his dick is pulsing with need, exploring your squishy insides while his balls prepare to release all semen stored right into your fertile womb. even if you may take a pill to get rid of any unwanted consequences, the thought of seeing your tummy swell with his child is making the older man go insane.
satoru buries his face between your breasts and breathes heavily against your sweaty skin. his hips move with renewed vigour, his energy never depleting when it comes to pleasuring you, “wanna make you my wife ‘n breed this pretty pussy.”
you moan repeatedly, unable to stop yourself. especially after satoru frantically spews such lewd words. he’s getting lost in your cunt and the way it’s swallowing him in—into your pretty pussy that he owns. his pussy.
“wanna be your wife so bad, ‘toru,” you hiccup, nearly crying from the intense pleasure. you’d love to be satoru’s wife. he already treats you so well while you’re his girlfriend, you can’t imagine how much better it’s going to get once you’re officially his. your stomach fills with butterflies at the thought of being able to call him your husband.
the white-haired man chuckles. his blue eyes stare down at you with nothing but love, “yeah? mh, i’ll treat you so well every single day. g’nna come home to you ‘n give you some proper loving.”
satoru can already imagine it. coming home to you after a long day of work, needing a quick release. seeing you greet him at the door will send him into a frenzy. especially if you’re wearing an apron—he’s a sucker for domestic stuff.
you, his wife, taking care of him after a rough day at work. . . it’s a dream come true. he’ll spoil you with materialistic gifts and his unending love so you’ll live a happy life.
oh, don’t get him started on kids. satoru ruts into you like his life depends on it, the hypnotising rhythm of your boobs jiggling in circles is making him drool. having a little family with you is his end goal. you’ll be such a good mother and he’ll be such an amazing dad; a perfect combination.
satoru can already picture the amount of times he’ll dump his cum inside of you, without any restrictions. without you taking a pill or him wrapping a condom around his dick. his libido is going to be at an all time high when the time comes.
even if satoru ages a bit, he’s sure that he’s going to be able to have sex with you non stop. you get him hard without fail every single time. you’re his everything—the apple of his eyes.
your lover nearly chokes on his own saliva. he pushes his cock in to the base, burying it as deep as possible. your fingers curl around the pillow you’re holding for support, your eyes rolling back. his pink tip hit the right spot. that sweet spot that makes you cum without fail.
satoru bites his bottom lip. the way he’s looking at you, with a possessive kind of love and lust, is simply too much. his oceanic eyes are glimmering with need. erotic images flash through his mind of him impregnating you, “going to put a baby into you as soon as you’re ready.”
your tummy fills with butterflies. the way he’s talking to you like you’re already a married couple is making your pussy even wetter than it already is. it’s like it’s begging satoru to give it to you already—to make it store all his cum.
his eyes roll back as he leans his forehead against your shoulder. he has to hold himself back from cumming too soon. he wants to cherish every second spent inside of your warm body. satoru attaches his lips to your breasts again, “mhhh, y’re gonna look so beautiful pregnant, mama. those tits of y’rs. . .”
his voice is barely audible because he’s busy sucking on your nipples. your boyfriend is imagining the pair growing with each semester, filling out perfectly to store milk for the baby.
satoru cannot wait to be the reason why your body will change so much. you’ll be even prettier than you already are, that he can tell already. he’s going to give you gifts every day, to thank you for carrying his child. he’s going to spoil you rotten because you deserve it and so much more.
he can’t wait for the married life with you. many men dread that life, but that’s not the case with satoru. every day of his married life will be spent with his wife—you—and the honeymoon phase will never end. ever.
satoru’s cock is twitching and begging for the much needed release. he pounds you into the couch until you’re screaming in pleasure, feeling him so deep inside you. he’s so big, he’s stretching you out so well to the point of no return. the older man grins at the sight of your already fucked out face, “cunt ‘s gonna be so swollen because of how much i’ll pleasure her—paint her all white with my cum.”
satoru’s nasty words are causing unspeakable things to your body. you’re on the brink of reaching that euphoric state. the dirty talk is too much to handle at this point. your limbs are tingling and your cunt is aching to be stuffed full of his hot semen.
“s-satoru, don’t say such stuff,” you comment in a shaky breath. your head is spinning and your hands desperately reach out to hold onto his shoulders, squeezing the skin. your hips are bucking up lightly, your clit bumping against satoru’s pelvic area with each thrust, “i’m gonna cum if you keep saying that.”
your lover’s grin widens even more. he knows you enjoy it when he whispers such dirty stuff in your ear. that’s mainly the reason why he does it. he’s talked you through multiple orgasms before—it’s quite easy to do so with his husky voice and manly touch.
“that’s fine, baby,” satoru coos and leaves one last, sloppy kiss on your nipple before leaning in to attach his lips to yours. his tongue swirls around yours as you share your spit, the mixture trickling down your chins.
his hips don’t stop. he positions his lower body in an angle that gets you screaming for mercy, which he won’t do. he craves to ruin you on his cock, to see you melt with pleasure underneath him.
“make a mess on my dick while i make a mess inside of you,” satoru encourages you which seals the deal. your body shakes as you feel the waves of pleasure run through your system. you can feel hot ropes of cum nestle deep inside of your cunt. your boyfriend shudders at the sensation and helps you ride your climax out.
he pushes in and back out a few times, lazily, his finger finding your clit to rub until you’ve calmed down. “good girl. y’ took all of it, hm? lovely,” satoru nearly collapses on top of you after the energy leaves his body, careful not to crush you underneath his weight.
he doesn’t bother to pull out. he keeps his cum plugged into you—relishing the moment of ecstasy. even if he can’t fully breed you now, he’ll wait until the day he can.
“i love you, wifey,” satoru kisses your temple, tiredly giggling at the nickname he gave you. in his mind, you are already his one and only woman.
his wife and partner for life.
#sttoru writes.#jjk smut#gojo smut#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#jjk x you#gojo x you#jjk x y/n#gojo x y/n
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my attempt at a bunch of my fav artists styles :] idea by sootnuki!!
i would love to do more but this was already a huge challenge
if any artist here dislikes this/is uncomfortable with it/any reason i can take it down or turn off reblogs etc. otherwise i hope its ok 🫡 im not gonna tag anyone just gonna let it do its thing in the wild lol
#crunchchute art#my art#sam and max#sam & max#i hope it will be viewable as i dont know how much tumblr will crunch it#in any case i have it up on twitter also and it seems to be in good quality there#it looks like a 'the 7 human souls:' meme hfhdhf#hey i can put more thoughts in the tags right? so first i didnt really put enough effort into my own one and i kinda realized my style#is kinda mid ngl. cause im lazy + this coloring style might not really fit them. anyway.#for sootnukis style i adore the rendering of the clothing folds and stuff but i couldnt get it just right it remains a mystery to me#silcrow i tried to do a traditional drawing but kinda messed up some of the coloring especially on the pants#also couldnt figure out if its just markers or markers + pencils or what. so i kinda did my own take of 90% markers 10% pencils#mtsodie i love the color palettes and the shapes so that was a lot of fun to try; i like the outcome#narnour i absolutely love the tiny little eyes and how goofy and round they look so that was fun to try to replicate too#as well as the colors which i mostly color picked cause i couldnt get a red overlay right#zembo was a nice way to revisit a chalky brush that i havent used in ages not sure if i got it right though#applettoast i feel like theres some gorillaz influence or its at least something i used while coloring. as you might know i used to draw#gorillaz a lot and tried to replicate the coloring etc. and i think it fit here. correct me if im wrong lol#snuckeys was also hella fun cause i love the cartooniness and the details like the teeth showing gums and stuff. hope i did it justice#also the eyes! i love the big highlight and that the eyes are brown its cute#it was nice to branch out for a bit
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this randomly popped into my head & i need it out of my brain bc i'm just thinking abt you & frat!rafe going to the beach for spring break with his fraternity brothers.
warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, sex on the beach, small hint of exhibitionism
a/n: not proofread
you’re wearing a cute little skirt as a cover over your bikini & they can’t help but shamelessly check you out, which you don’t notice because you’re too focused on having fun and spending time with rafe but it’s definitely something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him and the way his fraternity brother look at you.
you may not notice the way his frat brothers are looking at you but you do notice the way his jaw would clench to the point his teeth may shatter.
before you can even ask him what’s wrong, he pulls you onto his lap, grabbing a spare towel and covering your lap. his hands are slipping under your skirt, untying the bottom of your bikini, pulling it off of you completely before he’s pulling his swim trunks down just enough to free his cock.
you’re already wet but how can you not be with how sexy your boyfriend looks in his swim trunks and shirtless. “Rafe…” you mutter, only for him to whisper in your ear, “Shh, baby. ‘S fine, no one will notice, we’re covered and it’s just us and the boys on the beach”.
you look over to see he was right, there was no one but you, rafe, and his frat brothers, who were too occupied throwing around a football, on the beach. "You can't wait till we get back to our hotel?" you whined, making Rafe chuckle, "No, need you to know you're mine. I need them to know you're mine".
you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at what he meant but lost your train of thought as soon as he lifted your hips up just enough for him to slip his cock into you causing you to gasp. rafe is smirking to himself, his hands holding your hips as he moves you up and down his cock.
you're biting your lip, holding back your moans and whimpers while trying to keep an eye out in case anyone notices while hoping rafe doesn't notice how wet you are from the idea of possibly getting caught but he does. "fuck, you like the possibilty of gettin' caught, huh?" he groans in your ear.
you let out a small whimper and the more you held back your moans, the faster and harder he would rut up into you. a whine leaves your mouth as you feel yourself getting close, "fuck...".
he can feel your pussy tightening around him and he grabs your face, turning your head to face him, pressing his lips against yours to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure as you come. he gives a few more sloppy thrusts, his movements stilling as he groans and bites your lip harshly, filling you with his cum.
he pulls you off his cock, looking to see your face is flushed and you're panting lightly. he notices your hands moving to pull the bottom of your bikini back on but he stops you and instead, he tosses it aside and pulls your skirt down.
once you're covered, rafe stands up, pulling you up with him. "rafe, what was that for?" you point towards your discarded bikini bottom. rafe nods towards his frat brothers while maintaining eye contact with you, "you don't need them, not when you have my cum inside of you. i wanna see it drippin' down your legs. need them to see my cum drippin' down your thighs".
tagging: @oceandriveab / @babygorewhore / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @rafescurtainbangz / @rafesthroatbaby / @drudyslut / @drewstarkeyslut / @lilacheavenn / @hallecarey1 / @redhead1180 / @heartsforvin / @sturnioloshacker / @princesssuki21 / @eternalbuckley / @kisses4angel
#rafe cameron#frat!rafe#rafe cameron imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron blurb#frat!rafe cameron#frat!rafe x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#obx blurb#obx smut#obx fic#outer banks blurb#outer banks smut
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I actually kinda like the accidental pregnancy trope idk just two characters learning to coparent and then eventually falling in love is kinda cute 🥹 I’d love to see what you write for gojo I feel like he’d be scared but end being such an amazing dad
gojo x reader | accidental pregnancy trope [drabble]
little miracle. a gojo x reader story
a/n. ok anon i basically started answering this ask very minimally but i couldn't stop myself from writing and it basically became an entire story so enjoy i guess?? LOL my bad <3
warnings/tags. domestic fluff, angst, mentions of sick parent, mentions of death, pregnancy symptoms. there is happy ending!!
word count. 2.2k
gojo and you are in your mid twenties but you're both just barely getting by, you're a new writer living in a tiny apartment in a big city and gojo is the cute waiter at your favorite diner who's just saving up some money because he wants to go back to school and you're both kindaaa crushing on each other, flirting w one another. the restaurant gojo works at ends up starting meal delivery option, and you order some pizza to your apartment just so that you can see him on a weekday and he's soooo super cheeky with it leaning in the doorframe entryway of your apartment with the pizza in his hand like "it says here someone ordered a hot guy in some super sexy black jeans, well he's here now" and you're like "you're such a fuckin idiot" and you abandon said pizza to fuck him on your facebook marketplace couch.
fast forward the next day n you wake up, but he's not there anymore. he left you a little note that says he's going away for a month since his mom is sick and he needs to be w her. you're confused by the note, and you wish he left his phone number because you realize you have no way of contacting him. but that's ok, he'll be back soon, right?
in the couple weeks following the night you both hooked up, you're feeling like shit in the mornings, nauseous, you realize you've missed your period but you shrug it off because it was never really normal anyways. but one morning you throw up, confused as hell, wondering if you got food poisoning. but as you swing your legs back and forth in your paper gown, sitting high up on your primary care doctor's examination room bed, they tell you that you're pregnant and you act like you've never even heard the word before.
there's no doubt gojo is the father, you haven't slept w anyone except him in months. and a baby was just...you can barely afford to pay your bills, you're already living paycheck to paycheck since your book isn't even out yet and you're just surviving w the advance from your old job. what the hell were you going to do? and you can't even tell him that you're pregnant, because he's god knows where, stranding you with no phone number to contact him and you feel so left behind and alone.
the first person he comes to see when he gets back into the city is you. he looks tired, probably from his travels, or possibly from what he saw back home w his mom laying sick in bed. but he's still so happy to see you, and he kisses you and tells you he missed you and you stop him to tell him that you need to talk. for him, there was life before you told him you were pregnant, and then there was life after. and now he was living in the after. standing still in the tiny living room of your apartment when you tell him he's the father, and the words that leave your mouth afterwards are drowned out in his head because he can only focus on that one thought at once.
father. he's going to be a father? whatever heaviness he finds in his chest from the word is replaced with adoration when he looks at you.
keeping it, was what you had told him next.
it was tough at first, because of the morning sickness and the hormones and the yelling at him for not bringing you the kfc you craved so badly a minute before he did, and then the crying that follows suit when you realize you're being mean to him. but he does everything you want, everything he knows how, because he doesn't know how to be a dad, and he figures the least he can do right now is know what to do for you. and the thought scares him, to death every day. as he's driving you to your doctor's appointments, he's praying under his breath that you and baby are ok and healthy. while he's waiting tables at work, he puts on his best smile for an extra tip because it's extra money for the baby, because she isn't even here yet and he already wants to give her everything she's ever wanted.
yes, she. a baby girl. you were having a baby girl. you cried when your ob/gyn slipped and told you the gender, because you asked for it to be kept secret, but what hurt even more was that you told gojo he didn't need to come to this appointment. just a routine little check up, not a big deal. i'll just have my friend drop me off, you said. little did you know it was the one where you would find out you two were having a little girl.
oh, gojo knows nothing about girls. would it be different from raising a boy? can he play wrestle w her when she's a little older, or would he have to be gentle with her? would he learn how to make flower crowns for her with daisies from the field just to see a smile on her tiny face? how will he ever be able to deny her anything, especially if she looks just like you?
the second trimester, you two felt like a young married couple, and for once it felt like things were bright. like you two knew what you were doing. like it wasn't a mistake, but a blessing. you wanted him, desired him, and he'd never desired anything more than he desired you. it took you a while to come around to having sex again, it felt wrong, because that was what got you two into this mess in the first place. but those feelings melted away when you two moved into his little ranch together on the outskirts of town and you knew what it felt like to be hugged by him in the mornings, his sleepy voice drawling in your ear about how much more beautiful you look with every passing day. in those moments, all the regret melts away.
it all comes crashing down in third trimester. you're angry, he's tired, you're sad, he swears he's trying his best but he just can't seem to understand what you need from him. you say you wished this never happened, he says he didn't ask for any of this, and you're sobbing on the kitchen floor with your head in your hands because it all just feels like some cruel twisted joke. like a dream you should be waking up from any second from now. he sits down on the cold tile beside you, solemn in the face. he already looks so much older than the bright eyed boy he used to be, twirling a pizza box around on his finger in the doorframe of your apartment. his cheeks have sunk in, and he looks older. his hand reaches out to hold yours, and he kisses the back of it, and he says he'll never leave. not like how he left all those months ago, with nothing but a note. no matter what it comes to, one thing he can always promise you, is that he'll never leave like that ever again.
when your baby girl was born, nothing else mattered. it's like all the turmoil you faced in the past eight months was not even worth paying a moment's care towards when you cradle her in your arms. gojo had been fighting back tears the entire time, mostly provoked by how difficult childbirth had been for you as he watched feeling helpless, but the moment he held his little girl in his arms, he couldn't fight back the tears anymore. and he cried, and he cried, and he cried. few fathers could treasure their daughters as much as gojo did, and he knows it's a promise every parent makes to their child, but he vowed he'll never let anything hurt her. never let anyone upset her. for as long as he lives, he'll keep all the cruelty away from her, and keep her safe forever. you both named her yuki, for snow drifting outside of the hospital window when she opens her eyes for the first time.
you two make the tough decision that it's best for gojo to go back to school like he originally planned while you take care of the baby at home. it's hard having him away, and it's torture for him too, since he seems to breathe and live just to make yuki giggle and smile. but it's what made fiscal sense, since you knew what it was like to grow up in a household with little money to feed or fend, and the two of you wanted more than that for your daughter.
gojo's mother succumbed to the very illness that had been haunting her since he visited her for a month over a year ago, and he cried to sleep when he realized she only got to hold her granddaughter once before she passed away. and for the first time in his life, gojo learned what it really meant to be a parent, and it was only found in losing his own. there was no time to grieve in the capacity that he wanted to, because he needed to be there for you and his little girl. a year ago, he would've been broken, beaten, and bruised, but now he bleeds only in his dreams, then buries and braves the seasons for the sake of you two. as he slips his shoes off at the front door after a long day, then walks into the dark of the house, turning the corner into your shared room, he sees you humming peacefully while rocking his daughter to sleep. and he realizes his entire world is sitting in that chair.
gojo graduates from his two year engineering program, and lands a job in the city. the same city you left to go live with him when you were pregnant. it was tough to come back to the same city you fled, because all you remember of it now is morning sickness and fear of your career and falling in love with a boy that had a boyish charming smile you knew would ruin you one day. and now he's taken you back, moving the little family you've made together into a house. a house! he bought you a house. it was a little one, with no more than two bedrooms, but there was enough room in your hearts to raise your daughter with love, and that was all she'd ever need. she can walk now, mumble words. she said dada first, and gojo never stops teasing you about it. and when she finally says mama, you felt like your whole heart would burst.
he proposes to you on the waterline of the city's park, at the top of golden hour while the wind is subtle and tame but still ruffles the fabric of your dress. waiter boy, on one knee in front of you, years of waiting tables but he cannot even bare to wait one more second to hear your answer to the most important question he'll ever ask anyone in his entire life.
and you say yes. and he promises he'll love you for the rest of his life.
the wedding is small, because you two decided not to invite all of the family that had become estranged ever since you told them that you were pregnant with a man's child who you weren't even so much as dating. his family became yours after that, with his aunts and uncles congratulating you and yuki's cousins playing with her before she was to skip down the aisle as flower girl. it was sad to see your side of the church so empty, but you could never truly feel empty in this world anymore. not with what all that you've gained in the process.
there is fear in love, and in life. there was fear in gojo's heart when he learned he was going to be a father when he barely even knew right from wrong. there was fear in learning you were going to be a mother when you knew you cannot protect your child from the same hurt that has haunted you for a lifetime. but there was joy too. joy in seeing your baby bump for the first time, joy in holding your daughter in your arms for the first time, joy in seeing a sparkling stone in a tiny box presented to you on a sunday by the boy who still made your heart skip a beat just by looking at him, and there was so much joy in marrying him too.
but you find the real joy comes in the moments that you expect nothing from at all, but they happily surprise you with the feeling nonetheless. like now, as you sit on a picnic blanket at the park and you watch your husband running across fluttering grass in the wind, chasing after your daughter whose giggles and shrieks fill the summer air. he catches her, throwing her up into the air before spinning her around in his arms, and you tuck your hair behind your ear as you watch it happen. you expected nothing from anything life had given you in the past four years, and yet it gave you all the joy in the world. where you could've expected sorrow and sadness, it gave you something beautiful instead. you never would've thought that the boy you locked eyes with through a shy flutter of your lashes underneath warm restaurant lighting, the one that winked at you with no shame despite you being surrounded by all of your friends, you never could've imagined he'd be who he is to you today. but for certain, now, you believe in it. you believe in little miracles.
.
.
.
[the end]
a/n. what the flying fuck. i'm gonna go cry now lmfao.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x reader smut#gojo x reader angst#gojo smut#jjk gojo#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru fluff#smut#fluff#angst#accidental pregnancy#gojo satoru fanfiction#gojo x you#jjk fanfiction#jjk series#romance#humor#drabble#jujutsu kaisen drabble#jjk drabble#gojo x reader drabble
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˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗
1 | Something about you
❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.
❧ Content | flirting, language, suggestiveness, fluff, & faint sexual tension.
❧ Word Count | 7.1k (we're starting off strong it seems...)
❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.
| Chapters mlist |
——Congratulations, you’ve nearly escaped hell— not-so-happily entering your final year of university as time stands currently. And y’know what, you think you’ve coasted through most of your college years drama-free. Well, aside from freshman year you suppose, everyone fucks up around that time…
But that’s a tale for another day, right now, you’re finding yourself waltzing into an entirely different plotline— with your head held high as you waltz toward a newfound cafe that you haven’t had the pleasure of finding for the past four years. Up until today, you’ve just barely been stomaching dining hall caffeine. Which, to say the least, isn’t nearly as savory or energizing as coffee from your local cafe.
Four years you’ve been going to this school and yet here you were walking right into an establishment you swear simply spawned out of nowhere because you pass this street all the damn time and you don’t remember this place being here a week ago. Yet, when you enter the cafe and spot a sign that says they’ve been there for the past three years, you begin to realize that maybe you should start going out a bit more…
Nonetheless, you mentally claimed that if the coffee here was bad, you’d walk right out and return to never acknowledging the place. But hey, when you do push past those double doors, fingers wrapped around a warm metal handle, a waft of smoky coffee aromas simmering into your nose, and spot a rather attractive cashier first thing, you’re quick to tell yourself that maybe shitty coffee might be worth a few things.
Especially seeing as six staggering feet of height, fluffy bright white locks of hair, and the most dazzling set of blue eyes take notice of your entering seconds after you’ve stepped inside— how could you not tell yourself that terrible coffee may be worth digesting so long as you get to drink in this tall, fine man whose name you note as Gojo as you near him and read the tag on his apron.
“Suguru, it seems the gods have finally answered my prayers,” Gojo yells back to someone you can’t quite see yet. His eyes were all over you, drinking you in just as you were him. The tall man receives a laugh from somewhere further behind him before he redirects his words to you, “To what do I have the pleasure of serving you today, sweetheart?”
Your lips parted as you approached the counter fully, your eyes lingering on his far longer than they should’ve. “Uh,” And you were making a fool out of yourself already, great, “It’s my first time here, so I’m not too sure…” Okay, that’s a decent enough save considering how your words earn a half smile from the man in front of you who tilts his head and eyes you down.
And fuck if he wasn’t every bit of intimidating looking down at you like that. He places a single hand onto the counter space in front of him, leaning forward just a bit before turning his head back to take a glance at the menu hanging up, as if he didn’t have it memorized already, “Well, for first-timers I usually recommend anything but our coffee.”
You bat your lashes at the man for a moment as he returns his attention to you, “Seriously? That’s the one thing I came in here for…”
“Ah, well,” Gojo clicks his tongue and shrugs a bit, leaning toward you just to whisper, “Y’gotta come here when I’m in the back.”
You lean forward, intrigued by his words, “…Why?”
“Cause’ Suguru doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing,” Gojo chuckles a bit and you reciprocate before pushing your brows together questioningly. “Suguru, my best fr-, my coworker.” He clarifies quickly.
“Ohh,” You nod, “So should I come back another time, or…?”
“Nono, you caught me a few minutes before rush hour,” Gojo says rather cheerfully before he leans away from you and flashes a smile, “I can run back there ‘nd make ya’ somethin’ since we’re not too busy?”
At that, you take a moment to glance around the cafe interior, spotting one, maybe two people sitting on their laptops and languidly sipping or munching away at their breakfast. You’re glad you came in when you did.
Not only did you get the chance to talk to Gojo, who you turn back to seconds later with a nod, but you also got the chance to get not-so-shitty coffee according to the man. “Yeah, actually. That’d be nice,” You hum to him.
Gojo dramatically moves to stretch his arms, clasping his hands together before extending them out with a heavy sigh, as if he were preparing to do such a difficult task. “Alrighty then, is there any specific kinda coffee you’re lookin’ for?”
“Still my first time here, Gojo. So, no…” The way you say his name so suddenly has him wondering if you knew him from somewhere. But, you quickly smile a little and nod your chin to his name tag, to which he looks down and laughs at himself. “Surprise me,” You then say moments later.
“Surprise you?” Gojo echoes.
You shrug sheepishly, “If that’s not too much work for you-“
“No, I don’t mind. I can surprise ya’,” His smile at you deepens and you catch the slightest dip in his cheeks as the most enamoring set of dimples pops out to your gaze. “Buuut, before I do… Do you have any allergies or dislikes I should be wary of?”
You hum, “Uh, no I don’t think so? I’m feeling rather open-minded today so, just bring me something good enough to have me returning for more.”
“Yeah? I mean, I’m sure you’ll come back for somethin’ else aside from jus’ coffee,” Gojo laughs to himself at his own comment and your eyes simply widen, a cute lil’ tilt of your head catching his attention.
You chuckle nervously, “What else would I come back for if not coffee?”
He shrugs before slowly turning away, “Oh, I dunno… Perhaps a certain handsome cashier that’s caught your eye?”
Oh, you see where he’s going with this. It may have been a while but, you know what flirting looks like. “Is this handsome cashier in the room with us, or…?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the way Gojo freezes and he sends you this look that you have to try your hardest not to laugh at.
He nearly pouts, “W-Well, yeah, obviously. You’re lookin’ at him.”
Your brows lift, “Am I?”
Gojo narrows those pretty blue eyes of his at you, “Do you not find me handsome?”
“Say I didn’t,” You murmur tauntingly, “Wouldn’t you be really embarrassed?”
The corner of his lips twitch before he scoffs playfully, “What are you, some kinda masochist?”
You giggle, “No, but seein’ that pout on your face was kinda cute.”
“Pout?” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Hah, what pout?” He scoffs again before straightening his face and attempting to be serious with you, “I didn’t pout-���
“You totally did,” You cut off, peering right into those mesmerizing eyes of his— damn, it was almost like you couldn’t get yourself to look away.
“I did not,” Gojo corrects your statement, lower lip poking out once more into a pout.
You shrug and finally get yourself to glance off to the side, “It was cute.”
He instantly tilts his head at that, ears perking up, “Y’think I’m cute?”
“I do.” You hum simply with your eyes wandering right back over to his face.
There’s this little moment between the two of you, a spark if you will, where you both just meet one another’s eyes and admire each other. Is this what mutual attraction feels like?
Perhaps if you squinted, you would’ve noticed the faintest shade of pink decorating his cheeks, “I-,” Gojo swallows suddenly, “Why thank you, sweetheart,” He utters suavely, as if to save himself from embarrassment. After which, he clears his throat, “That aside, we’ve got about six minutes before people start rushin’ in here ‘nd it’ll take two for me to prepare that coffee of yours so, do you mind givin’ me a name?”
You blink, “A name…?”
“Your name,” Gojo clarifies.
“Oh! Sorry,” You’re quick to apologize for your moment of daze, giving him your name seconds later to make up for it.
He starts to smile again, “That’s your name?”
“Yes?” You utter almost confusedly. Was there something wrong-
“It’s pretty,” Gojo interrupts your thoughts completely and your eyes go all wide all over again, a small feature in which he finds absolutely adorable.
“T-Thank you,” You stammer out, turning away to now avoid the eye contact you once couldn’t tear yourself away from.
“Uhuh,” His eyes scan you up and down once more before he sighs, “I’ll be back in a sec’, sweets,” Gojo says finally.
God, you think the nickname he threw out has your heart racing because it made your face so utterly hot. Almost as if you don’t hear nicknames like that on a daily basis…
Aside from that, you gave Gojo one last nod before looking back over your shoulder to see if anyone was coming yet. He’d told you that there was only a few minutes until rush hour so you were a bit wary that people would appear out of nowhere in the next-
“So you’re the girl that’s got Satoru all giggly, huh?” A voice purrs from somewhere in front of you.
Quickly, you return your gaze forward and spot a man, equally as tall as Gojo, with long dark hair, slim eyes, and a really pretty face— holy shit, how many hot guys work here??
“Uh,” You’re stuttering again, tipping your head to the side, “…Satoru?” You repeat, confused by the person he’s referring to.
The man chuckles, “Gojo,” He tells you, “Satoru Gojo,” You nod at the clarification and he grins warmly.
“Oh, then yeah I guess so,” You shrug sheepishly before flashing a smile, “So then that means you must be Suguru-“
“Geto,” He’s so quick to correct you that you almost immediately shut up, swallowing down your words as if you’d said something wrong. “Sorry, I assume Satoru told you my first name?”
You steadily nod, avoiding eye contact with him out of embarrassment, “He did…”
“As expected,” Geto hums before letting out a long sigh, “Just call me by me last, I don’t know you too well so I’m sure you understand.”
You hum, “Right, sorry.”
It’s a tad bit awkward for the next few seconds after that mild conversation but when you hear Gojo yelling from somewhere in the back, the awkwardness quickly subsides.
You even spot Gojo popping his head out from around the corner just to speak to his coworker, “Suguru don’t scare her off jus’ cause you have a girlfriend-“
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Geto interrupts, sharp with his correction as he glances back over his shoulder.
Gojo snorts, “Fine then, girl who’s a friend that you like-“
“I don't-,” A sigh leaves Geto’s lips before he’s moving to pinch the bridge of his nose, groaning afterward, “Just hurry up with the damn coffee before people start comin’ in.”
Your eyes somehow find Gojo’s and you watch him mouth out something to you, “He’s grouchy because his girlfriend’s ignorin’ him-“
“Satoru,” Geto says scoldingly, causing Gojo to flinch dramatically.
Then you see the white-haired man laugh before winking at you and dipping back around the corner. After which, you don’t even realize you’re smiling until you meet Geto’s gaze and feel your expression drop at the glare he’s giving you.
“What?” You murmur warrily, raising a brow at his plain look.
Geto tilts his head and studies your face for a mere moment, “You new around here or somethin’?”
“New to this cafe, yeah,” You explain, “Why?”
He shrugs, “I’ve learned most of our customer’s faces and majority of them live around the area but I’ve never seen you before.”
“I live not too far from campus but I wasn’t aware this cafe was here until today…” You explain steadily, earning somewhat of an intrigued expression from the man.
“Damn, really?”
You nod, “Mhm.”
“So, wait,” Geto scoffs a little at the thought, “Don’t tell me you’ve been stomaching dining hall caffeine all this time.”
You chuckle and glance off to the side, “Well…”
“If you live near campus, how the hell are you just now finding us??” Geto questions, he seems genuinely confused by your cluelessness.
Your shoulders lift into a shrug, “I don’t go out much.”
“Maybe you should,” He tells you.
A thin lipped smile tugs at your lips, “Starting to realize that now, thanks.”
The man opens his mouth to say something but he’s cut off by Gojo returning from the back and placing a hand on his shoulder, to which Geto glances down at.
“Alrighty Suguru, thanks for not scaring the pretty lady away!” Gojo says cheerfully as he pushes past his friend and makes eye contact with you.
Geto’s brows push together, “You’re welcome? I don’t know how I would’ve scared her, I-“
Gojo unintentionally cuts him off with a laugh, “You’ve been kinda grouchy towards women ever since you met-“
“Fuck off,” He grumbles, brushing off Gojo’s hand on his shoulder and turning to make his way to the back once more.
“See what I mean?” Gojo hums to himself.
Then Geto laughs, “You’re not a woman are you?”
“Suguruuu,” Gojo whines, turning his head back to his friend who’s already disappeared from his line of vision. Then, Gojo sighs and looks to you again, “Ah whatever, ignore him, he sucks sometimes.”
You grin, “You guys are best friends, aren’t you?”
The way Gojo tilts his head almost innocently is kinda cute, “How can you tell?”
“Mine acts similarly,” You explain, thinking of your best friend who’s not the nicest person in the world.
“Yeah?” Gojo hums, “An asshole once they get into a relationship?”
“I’m not in a relationship, Satoru!” Geto calls out from the back.
You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes at his friend's refutation of his claims. Looking somewhat off to the side, your thoughts wander more so toward your best friend, “Well, no, he’s kinda just an asshole all around.”
“Really? Why’re you his best friend then?” You’ve always found this question funny considering most people are confused about how you and your best friend are even friends when most times you two don’t get along.
Instead of really answering Gojo’s question, you look up at him and smile, “I could ask you the same thing, no?”
His brows furrow and he scoffs, “What? No, Suguru’s just grouchy today, I promise he’s usually better than that.”
You nod, “I see…”
“Anyway,” Gojo extends his hand out to you, “Here, give this a try,” He offers, handing a decently sized cold drink to you.
You receive the item and look down at it, “You’re not trying to poison me right?”
Gojo laughs, “Aaand why ever would I do that?”
The cup is steadily lifted to your lips as you lift your eyes to him once more, “I dunno, men are weird.”
“That they are,” He chuckles, “But no, that’d be illegal and I have no intentions of harming you.”
Again, you just nod at that and then take that first sip of the surprise drink he’d given you. A strong taste of vanilla and a nearly overwhelming amount of coffee creamer hits your tastebuds. You smile but you’re a bit taken back by how sweet it is. One, it’s way better than any cup of coffee you’ve ever had from the dining hall and two, it’s a lot sweeter than you were expecting.
“Holy fuck, how much sugar did you put in this thing?” You utter in surprise as you move the cup away from your mouth and glance at it as if that’ll give you the answer to your question.
Gojo lets out a laugh, “You said to surprise you.”
“Yeah but this is sweet as hell,” You tell him, your eyes raking over the cup in your hand.
“Sweet drink for a sweet girl, I don’t see a problem,” He responds with a little lean toward you.
“Right and-,” You scoff, eyes narrowing at the very lousy print of your name on the cup, “Who’s…” You almost laugh, “Christ, your handwriting is shit.”
Gojo lets out a huff, “Okay, first off, my handwriting is not that bad. And secondly-”
You’re quick to turn the cup to him and lift it, “Look at it!”
“Oh.” He squints his eyes at it, “Shit, that is kinda bad…” Gojo mumbles with an amused little smile on his face.
“Yeah, I can’t even read this…” You laugh, returning the cup to yourself, “But that’s okay, I appreciate the effort,” His smile grows at your comforting words as you then look up at him once more, “How much?”
“Since my handwriting’s so shit,” He starts, tilting his head at you and shrugging, “Consider it on the house.”
Your eyes seem to light up, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Gojo hums.
“Aw, thank you,” Who would you be to ever pass up something free? Especially given by this cheeky cashier before you.
“Anytime-”
Geto’s voice intrudes from the back, “Satoru I thought I told you to change these filters? And why’d you leave such a big mess, holy shit.”
Gojo yells back to his coworker, slightly looking over his shoulder, “The mess isn’t that bad is it?”
You snort, “If it’s anything like your handwriting then uh…”
“Alright,” Gojo’s quick to look at you once more, “You just got a free drink out of me so I don’t wanna hear anything from you.”
“Satoru, these filters aren’t gonna change themselves,” Geto nags further.
You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes and yells back to his friend yet again, “You’re literally back there already, change them yourself.”
“Nope, it’s your turn,” Geto argues.
Gojo frowns, “But-”
“The girl’s not goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” At that, you blink in surprise. How does he know you’re not ready to leave just yet? “Get your ass back here,” Geto orders.
Gojo turns his head and looks at you almost pleadingly.
You giggle, “What? Sounds like you’ve got some filters to change, Gojo…”
“Y’know what,” He scoffs and nods his chin to the cup in your hand, “$5.45.”
Your head cocks back a little and your brows go up, “I’m sorry?”
“The drink,” Gojo hums simply, looking back to make sure Geto wasn’t on his way out to scold him some more just yet, “Since you wanna take his side over mine…”
The way you frown misses Gojo’s eyes up until he turns to look at you one last time, his eyes going wide as you try to defend yourself, “I wasn’t-”
“S’fine, I got it,” An entirely different voice grumbles from your right, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. So close to you, an arm slips right past your face and you watch as an all too familiar man extends a card out to Gojo.
Your lashes bat a few times as an annoyingly familiar scent of cologne rushes into your nose. You’d literally just escaped said smell a few hours ago after leaving your apartment and yet here it was all over again, directly in your nose and you met the side profile of your best friend, “Choso?” You utter.
Whatever light and fluffy banter that was in the air seconds ago seems to die at the mere presence of Choso standing so closely beside you. Ignoring you, he urges Gojo to take his card and Gojo soon does so with a scoff— he was going to keep flirting and teasing you but here comes this all-too-serious-looking man taking your vacant side as if it were second nature.
The smile Gojo once had on his face simmered down and his expression became a lot more neutral as he quietly moved to charge Choso’s card.
After which, your best friend finally looks down at you, his eyes pointed in a glare that would make anyone feel unloved despite you knowing he feels quite the opposite (to some extent at least), “Don’t you have class in an hour?” Choso asks you in a dull monotone.
Your face scrunches up slightly before you shrug, “I was thirsty…”
Choso stares at you for a long moment, glances at Gojo, then back to you with a scoff, “Yeah, clearly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean-,” You’re cut off by Choso taking his eyes off of you and receiving his card back from Gojo, the two men making eye contact once more and both looking as if the other had done something to offend them. Your best friend openly scoffs in Gojo’s face before pocketing his card and turning away, quickly walking out of the establishment.
Your eyes go wide, “Choso, wait!” You call out as your eyes followed him walking away from you. Only to be ignored again, you let out a huff and start to walk after him but turn back to Gojo one last time, “Sorry about him.”
Gojo’s expression seems to light back up a bit and he shrugs, “You’re fine.”
You nod and start turning away before remembering something and looking at Gojo yet again, slightly pointing at him, “You owe me a free drink by the way,” You remind him playfully.
His face is twisting right back up into that intrigued expression from earlier, “Do I now? And what for?”
“Your shitty handwriting of course,” You hum.
"Hm," He takes a second to think before letting out a slight huff. You then feel and watch the way his eyes glide up and down your body before he responds to you, "Alright."
And with that, both of you smile at one another one last time before you go running off to catch up with Choso. Gojo watches you almost in some kinda trance as you leave, spotting more customers approaching but ignoring them for the most part as his gaze remains glued to you until you’re completely out of his line of vision.
Then, he lets out this breathy little sigh, “Fuck…” Moving to wipe his face off as if that’ll rid himself of whatever the hell he’s feeling after talking to you.
He didn’t even get to ask you for your number like he wanted to…
With perfect timing, “Satoru, the-”
“Filters, yeah yeah, I got it,” Gojo cuts Geto off completely, turning around to see his friend emerging from the back as they both swap places due to the approaching rush hour.
· · ─────── · ꨄ · ─────── · ·
Outside, you were met with a slap of heat as soon as you exited the cafe, your eyes searching the area for Choso. A slight breeze of refreshing wind brushes over your skin as you finally spot the man having not gotten too far away.
Barely managing to catch up to him, you nudge Choso on his arm as soon as you meet his side, “Why’d you pay for my drink? I could’ve done that myself.”
Just as he did earlier inside the cafe, he acts as though you’re not even there, keeping his gaze forward and pretending he didn’t hear a single thing you just said.
“Choso? Hello??” You huff out, nudging him on his arm again.
His lip twitches into a scowl and he just barely side-eyes you, “What?”
You ignore all of his attitude, as you typically do, “Why’d you pay?”
“You’re a walking charity case,” Choso hums all too casually.
Your head goes back and you scoff, “I-, what? No, I’m not!” Then the back of your hand is landing on his arm as you hit him and he almost smiles.
Finding amusement in your reaction, he shrugs, “Yeah you are,” And before you can even try to get a response out, the cup of coffee in your hand is stripped from your grasp faster than you could blink. Choso removes the top and takes a sip, “Ew, you like this shit?” He scowls, placing the top right back on and handing you your drink back.
You blink, struggling to process a logical reasoning behind his action, “First off, no one told your ass to take a sip. And secondly-”
“I wanted to know what you got,” Choso cuts off, glancing at you to watch how quickly you get annoyed by him.
You groan, “You could’ve asked if that was the case.” He shrugs your words off and you roll your eyes at him, “And how the hell did you know I was in there anyway?”
“I didn’t,” Choso tells you, “I always go in there but today I happened to see your short ass at the counter when I walked in.”
You’re quick to shoot him a glare, “Stop that, I’m not short.”
He’s got this arrogant little grin on his face, “Look short t’me.”
“That’s because you’re taller than me, which doesn’t make you tall in general nor does it make me short.” You explain to the man simply with your eyes shooting daggers into the side of his face.
Choso continues to act as though you’re not even looking at him, “Being shorter than me makes you short-”
“And y’know what,” You cut off, tearing your eyes off of your overly bothersome friend, “You’re annoying.”
He cocks his head back, “Annoying? I’m annoying?” Finally, he looks at you, now searching the side of your face for answers.
“Yeah, very.” You hum.
Choso scoffs and then sizes you up and down, “Says the one who was gawkin’ over Gojo Satoru of all people.”
You nearly laugh, “Fucks’ that supposed to mean? How would that make me annoying?”
“He’s a weirdo,” Choso shrugs, pocketing his hands as he faces forward once more, “I can’t understand what you could possibly find attractive about him.”
You blink and both of you slow down in the pace of your steps, “I talked to him for less than ten minutes, how was I supposed to know he’s weird. And wait-, how does me finding him attractive even annoy you?”
Your best friend sighs and his words come out all too casually for them to be so offensive, “Cause when he breaks your heart,” Choso looks at you, “You’ll come bitchin’ to me about it.”
At that, you freeze, quickly turning to meet his gaze, “Who says he’ll break my heart? And bitching? Is that what you call me talking to you about my relationship issues?? Bitching? Seriously?” With your eyes narrowed and brows tightly knit together, Choso should’ve sensed that he struck a nerve there.
Yet, he seems to not care in the slightest, blinking as if he’d said nothing wrong, “Fuck else am I supposed to call it? I warn you about every guy you date but you don’t ever listen to me.”
Your face twists up, “That doesn’t make my complaints ‘bitching’…”
“Well, it makes it fucking annoying,” He hums before pulling his lips into a thin smile— mocking you through facial expressions.
Your brows go up, “Really? Okay then, sorry for ever confiding in you,” You set your eyes straight once more, “I’ll just go find someone else to-”
“You know no one else is gonna put up with your shit the same way I do,” He’s so quick to dismiss your little statement, almost as if the implication of you ever leaving him, in a sense, bothered him.
You scoff matter-of-factly, “That’s not true.”
“It literally is though,” Choso deadpans, “You have one friend and that’s me. Who the hell else are you gonna go rant to, hm?”
“Someone that doesn’t call my rants bitching.” You huff, crossing your arms over one another.
Choso scales his eyes down to your arms and he smiles, “Are you seriously mad about that?”
“Maybe,” You shrug.
His feet come to a stop and you follow suit, turning to avoid his eyes as much as possible. Choso stares at you for a moment before leaning toward you, tilting his head and angling his lips toward your ear.
All of which done so he could whisper to you, “M’sorry, princess,” Choso murmurs to you affectionately, “Y’know I didn’t mean that seriously, I’m jus’ fuckin’ with you.”
You remain unphased for a mere moment more before the constant brush of his breath against your skin makes you shudder, your hands moving to his chest to push him away, “Yeah, whatever… And stop calling me that.”
Choso blinks, feeling confused since you act as if he hadn’t been calling you such a thing for years, “Why?”
“Cause I don’t like it…” You so clearly lie— not that you enjoyed the nickname but more so that you’ve always felt indifferent to it. Or, almost always.
He smirks, “Your face is telling me an entirely different story.”
“Yeah?” You chuckle, moving to shoot your middle finger at him, “And what story does this tell you?’
Choso stares into your eyes for a long period of time before looking to your finger, smiling fully and tilting his head again, “…You wanna fuck me?”
Immediately putting your finger down, your brows tense, “What? No!” You exclaim, groaning as you return to your walking, “God, I cannot stand you.”
He laughs and follows right alongside you, “You’re so easy to annoy, holy shit.”
“And you’re insufferable,” You huff.
Choso shrugs simply, “You love me though.”
You glance at him, “Debatable.”
He pouts and pretends to clutch his heart, “Ouch-”
“Anyway,” Returning your attention to someone much less annoying than the man beside you, you nod your head back toward the cafe, “Do you know if he’s single?”
Choso nearly trips over his steps at the sound of that, letting out a cough, “Who-, Gojo??”
You nod, “Mhm.”
“Why?” Choso’s lips twitch, “You lookin’ to get rejected?”
Pausing, you look to him with a quirked brow, “Excuse me? What makes you think I’ll get rejected?”
“You’re uh…” He trails off a little, eyes lingering down your frame before he smiles and speaks to you in this faux gentle whisper, “Not his type, sweetie.”
Your eyes roll at that, “Okay, first of all, fuck you. Secondly, how do you know?”
“Uh, I’ve seen the kinda girls he’s into so trust me when I say…” Choso’s eyes shift to peer directly into yours, “It ain’t you.”
You stare back for a moment before shaking your head and looking off, “Whatever, you’re just saying that.”
“Yeah because I’m gonna lie to you about something like that,” He snickers to himself before rolling his eyes. Within seconds, he goes to look at you again only to see you heading in a different direction, “Hey! Where’re you goin’?”
“Away from you!” You call back.
He laughs yet again, “What, you can’t handle the truth now?”
Glancing back to him, “I’m gonna prove you wrong asshole.”
Choso flashes you a shit-eating grin as if he’s already begun praying on your downfall, “Sure you will.”
He then watches as you further away from him, his smile steadily fading as he catches himself a bit too happy at the sight of you so determined. Choso shrugs off whatever feeling the topic of Gojo Satoru had brought up within him, dismissing the entire thing as he truly believed you’d never really get yourself too involved with that guy.
Unfortunately for him, he didn’t see the way you were taking to Gojo before he walked in so, Choso had no idea of how things were about to play out within the next few hours.
· · ─────── · ꨄ · ─────── · ·
As such, after that morning class of yours that extended decently into the afternoon, you found yourself rushing back to the cafe as soon as you could.
You knew not of Gojo’s working hours so you had no clue whether or not he’d still be there but you sure as hell hoped so. Choso had really ticked you off with his claims.
You not being Gojo’s type? Yeah right, he didn’t see the way that cashier was looking at you, nor did he hear all the banter that took place. Given that, you were determined to prove your dear friend wrong and yourself right. You know flirting when you see it and that’s exactly what Gojo was doing.
So to say he wasn’t at least intrigued by you would be a blatant lie you had every hope on exposing to Choso.
When you finally find yourself entering that lovely little cafe, it’s a lot more busy in comparison to earlier— something you take note of for your possible future visits. The line wasn’t exactly too long but quite a few people were hanging out or studying throughout the establishment.
That aside, your eyes were quick to search for a certain white-haired barista, gaze lighting up the very second it meets the man it questions.
Gojo had a weary smile on his face as he handed some girl a coffee and you could tell based on his eyes alone that he was tired of the chick rambling to him. He nodded and nodded, trying to keep himself appearing entertained by whatever she was saying but when he glances over and spots you, all his attention is diverted.
Those pretty blue eyes of his fixate on you and you watch as he finally dismisses the girl, nodding toward you as if to say he had another customer to tend to. She shrugs and finally leaves, to which you take place in standing where she’d been seconds ago, sending a smile to Gojo.
“Long day?” You suggest with a slight tilt of your head, to which he nods.
“You have no idea,” Gojo sighs out to you, “You’re back sooner than I expected though.”
He didn’t know what it was about you, perhaps the way you gaze at him, but there was something that kept his eyes lingering on yours far longer than normal— something that genuinely lulled him in. Perhaps it was the natural flow of conversation and how even from earlier, you didn’t really feel like a mere customer but instead just a person, a woman at that-, a very pretty woman, might he add.
“You owe me a free drink, remember?” You remind him, earning a different reaction than expected.
Gojo pauses, “Ohh… About that…” He hums, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “Yeah see, that offer no longer stands…”
You blink, “I’m not sure I understand…”
He lets out a sigh, then moves to lean forward against the counter, bending down and crossing his arms as he rests on his elbows and comes much closer to your eye level, “Another cute girl came in ‘nd got it before you,” Gojo whispers.
You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not and your brows pinch together, “Seriously?”
“Mmhmm,” He hums tauntingly with this smug look on his face as if to say giving away your promised drink was to get back at you for something.
“Well,” You click your tongue, “I think you owe me a free drink now more than before, maybe two.”
Gojo smiles, feeling amused, “Yeah? I mean, my number’s free. Y’want that instead?”
Your voice gets caught in your throat at how ridiculously smooth that was, trying your hardest not to give in and return a smile. “I… What am I supposed to do with that?” You end up asking.
He snickers, “Perhaps text me? Or call? Y’know, the thing you do with phones-“
“Alright smart ass,” You scoff playfully, grinning as you move to pull out your phone, “What’s your number then?”
Gojo smiles triumphantly and extends his hand out, “Here, lemme put it in for ya’.”
You glance at him, eyes meeting and yet another moment passing before you hand him your phone, to which he takes a second to look down at the device in his hands. Then, he enters his number and a contact name for himself.
After which, your cell is quickly returned to you and you look to see what he’s put in. Studying the name closely, you tilt your head, “Satoru?”
“Mhm, tha’s me, sweetheart,” He purrs, moving to rest his cheek against his knuckles.
You look up from your phone, “You want me to call you Satoru?”
Gojo shrugs, “If you don’t mind, yeah.”
“We’re on a first-name basis already?” You tease, eyes narrowing at the man.
“It seems we are,” He utters. His voice was a bit lower with you now, much more casual and playful. “That alright with you, pretty girl?”
Unknowingly, your face flushes, “Yeah, that’s uh, that’s fine.”
Gojo lets out a hum, “Good.” Then, the two of you do that thing yet again, peering into one another's eyes, unmoving, nearly frozen and dazed for a moment longer than intended before Gojo snaps out of it by almost awkwardly clearing his throat, “So uh, you still want that free drink or…?”
You blink out of your own stupor and shake your head, “No, I’ll come back for it tomorrow.”
“Oh?” His brows shoot up in surprise, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”
“It seems I am, yes,” A smile graces your face and he can’t help but stare.
Gojo mirrors your expression, “Just for coffee?”
Your eyes wander off to the side cheekily, “Perhaps for a certain handsome cashier too…”
He thinks his heart is fluttering. Is this normal? To experience such a genuine infatuation with a woman’s words within less than twenty-four hours? It was unusual for Gojo, that’s for damn sure. Hence why his head is tipping to the side, “Really? Have my charms worked so soon?” He teases.
You return your gaze to him, “Just a little, yeah.”
Mesmerized by you, Gojo nods, “Good to know.”
“Mhm,” After a slight hum, you glance down at your phone and check the time, “Well uh, I actually have another class so I should probably go.”
“Yes… Yes, you should,” He voices out slowly, again entangled into that daze of his until you lift your head once more, “But uh, make sure you text me later, yeah?” Gojo reminds you.
To which you chuckle and start turning away toward the exit, “No promises.”
He’s left in a mere awe of you, not even knowing what to say, and left utterly speechless from such an intriguing yet simple conversation with you. As you wave bye, Gojo had to feel for his heart the very second you leave just to see if it was working correctly because he’s not sure what the hell that was just now.
Whatever it may have been, he knows it was much more genuine and raw than what he’s typically used to. And it came so naturally too, the banter, the gazes, the flirting… Gojo was longing for more already and he’d only just met you a few hours ago.
· · ─────── · ꨄ · ─────── · ·
All the while you’re just as cheerful at the interaction you just had, beyond ready to brag to your doubtful best friend of your most recent accomplishments.
Which is exactly why you’re facetiming said friend as soon as you leave the cafe. The call rings for less than a second before it’s answered and you’re met with a visibly displayed and… shirtless Choso.
Before you get the chance to even try and take in his naked torso, he’s already scowling at you, “The fuck are you facetiming me for?” He grumbles, taking the smile right off of your lips, “I’ve seen your face enough for one day. Why don’t you ever call like a normal person??”
You bat your eyelashes at the man, “Cho, we just got on the phone and you’re already souring the mood…”
He ignores your complaint, “What do you want?”
Steadily, your smile returns, “Guess who got a certain someone’s number,” You utter cheerfully, voice light in a little sing-song tone.
Choso gives his phone a blank stare, not saying a single word in response to that.
Which confused you, “Well? Are you gonna guess-“
“You could’ve texted me this shit,” He cuts off before you watch as your screen is soon met with the ceiling as he places his phone down.
You pout, “Well, yeah but then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction…”
He scoffs and pops his face into the camera for a second, eyes dull, smile nonexistent, eye bags heavy, and tattoo running across his nose the only thing giving some form of expression despite it being nothing more than a dark black line. “Does it look like I give two shits about you gettin’ some asshole’s number?”
You let out a long sigh, “Remind me why we’re friends again?”
And that’s when Choso seems to smirk, “Cause’ you won’t leave me alone.”
“I’m hanging up,” You groan.
His laughter, albeit somewhat of a rare sound, fills your ears, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”
You send him a look, “Are you?”
“Mhm, good job on gettin’ his number, princess,” Choso coos, making your eyes widen, “I’m proud of you.”
Your mouth opens to say something to that but your throat runs oddly dry. Instead, you gulp down his sudden praise and ignore how warm his words make you feel. “…Thank you.” You eventually say.
“Uhuh,” Choso nods before removing himself from the camera again, “Pretty sure he’s just trying to fuck though.” He says bluntly.
Instead of choking like he expected you to, you only scoff, “Fine by me.”
Your best friend is quiet for a moment, feeling almost silenced before he sighs, “Oh… But you told me no-“
“That was entirely different, Choso.” You cut off.
He shuts up again.
“You were drunk, and…” Your voice dies out.
To which he raises a brow at his phone, “And what?”
“And things were different back then,” You sigh, trying not to recall the entirety of your past with Choso at the present moment, “…You were an even bigger asshole, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Choso sighs, moving to dismiss the topic, “Anyway, let me know how things go with your new albino boyfriend.”
You scoff, smiling at the suggestion itself, “He’s not even my-“
The call disconnects. Oh how you just love your best friend and his antics. You wouldn’t trade your friendship with him for anything.
Or at least, that’s what you told yourself anyway. What exactly does a new man in your life bring if not drama? This right here was but the beginning of a very interesting journey toward such a fickle emotion we know as; love.
mlist | next chapter |
Tags 1/2; @siriusblackswankourtzeyy @eternaltpaoe @moonsgravee @sooshisweet @looking4hina
@blognicole @designerpvssy @andyfasia @shytragedybluefox @papigotwap
@senseifupa @gojoslefttoenail @juliiizh @gojos-cumslutt @lovergirl65
@sydlunamoon-blog @gojstrulxvezx @gigiipeaches @kivrumi @urunclesbottomlip
@iseeyouuu @annieleonhardtsbitch @lwkykiyo @itsbellablue-blog @gorouenjoyer
@mua-for-now @bee3l0v3r @scarletteyuno @lilablogsblog @lolznoelle
@madaqueue @keriaonmarz @parakisssss @aniniyah @trx-xrt
@sxnkuna @chocolatecheer @unibrow-yzz @lovely-lady-tits @woofzz2
@pineapplepan7 @janrcrosssing @hauntedchoso @linksylove @lemonninq
@littlemug00 @namjoonie17717 @notjustagirlinthisworld @moonneversleeps @k4rma1sntd3ad
#my love note#choso#choso x you#choso smut#choso x y/n#kamo choso#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk choso#jujutsu kaisen choso#reader x gojo#gojo angst#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu gojo#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo fluff#choso jjk#choso fluff#choso x female reader#smut#anime smut
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─ 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘚, 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘚 🫀
max verstappen x singer!fem reader // smau
⤷ summary: when max verstappen starts commenting on the posts of the beloved singer y/n l/n, fans are confused but enthusiastic at the new friendship. what they could never expect is just how long they've been 'friends'...
based on this request <3
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liked by sabrinacarpenter, maxverstappen1, and 46,908 others
tagged sabrinacarpenter
ynusername my new album is now officially out on all platforms! thank you so so much for all of the love and support, and special thanks to sab for her feature on the song <33 love u bb girl 🫦🫦 now that the album's out, tour next!!! see you all soon!
23,560 comments
user1 THE ALBUM OUT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
user2 i cannot be normal about this i fear
user3 ik her back hurts from CARRYING the music industry on her back 😩
user4 hey so WHO TF IS SO AMERICAN ABOUT?? A LOVE SONG
user5 y/n writing a love song in god's year of 2024... wow
user6 y/n in the top 10 charts, fork found in kitchen
user7 sabrina and y/n are never beating the gf allegations
ynusername damn right we're not 😏
user7 HOLY SHIR HOKY SHIT HOKST SHUT
user8 y/n's in love and it's not with me, hanging myself as we speak
user9 the comment is gonna get reported but so real op
user8 can't a woman hang herself in peace 😣
user10 album's such a banger i had this shit bumpin at my grandmas funeral 🙏🏼 rest in piece nancy 🕊️💪🏻
user11 OH MY GOD???
user12 rest in piece nancy you would've loved make you mine 😔
ynusername oh my god please tell me your joking
user10 sorry queen the grind never stops
ynusername NO SHOT
maxverstappen1 great album! 👍🏼
user13 why does he text like my father 🧍🏻♀️
user14 brother eughh
user15 what da hell is a polar bear doin in arlington texas
ynusername thank you max!!!
user16 y/n l/n to redbull in 2025
user17 hellurrrrr who is this man in ur likes y/n
user18 f1 driver!!
user17 Y/N NO ATHELETES PLEAEJEWK 🫵
user18 tour content soon??? i'm sat
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user19 bro looks like he snuck onto earth, get his ass outta here
user20 grammy-award winner, vogue cover model, new york university graduate and Some Fucking Guy
user21 not y'all coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 💀💀 he's literally a world class athete and she writes pop music
user20 17.172.224.47
user21 IS THAT MY IP ADDRESS??
user20 melinda charleton
user22 IS THAT HIS MOTHER'S NAME!!?1?1!
user20 you want me to do you too???
user22 no we good 😃
user23 ruth bader ginsberg did not die for this
user24 now wtf does this have to do with babe ruth 🤨
user25 WHOOOOO 😧
user24 ... that wasn't right was it
user26 now let's be fr he does NAWT have a chance
user27 have u seen the marble-carved  goddesses these men pull, i fear he does 😔
user28 please no i feel ill
user29 TWO???? OH HELL NAW
user30 two might be pushing it, only one was confirmed
user31 jesus christ
user32 first taylor, now this
user33 yall, all he commented was great album 💀💀 yall are LEAPING to conclusions
user34 what can i say it's an art
user35 i do not see 👁️👄👁️
user36 no like 💀💀 im in your walls
user37 haha max verstappen!! right!!! (theres a sniper at ur location)
user38 omg ur so right 🤩 it is about him (i have a bomb strapped to my chest)
user39 i dont mean to sound stupid, idk who that man is, if i saw him on the streets i wouldnt know a thing 🥱
user40 this is so random too like what 😭
user41 the power of kindness won't work here, i have to throw him off a building
user42 i used to be a max verslsjjwwo lover 🤩 now im just a max verslsjjwwo hater 😔
user43 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S OUT AGAIN
user44 why would u put that into the universe 😧
user45 alright, lets get you to bed grandma
user46 mari stop being delusion and go touch grass 🧍🏻♀️
user47 ENOUGHHHH
user48 ain't no way in hell 😭
user49 ik ur feet hurt from all this jumping to conclusions babe
user50 lets leave the parkour to the athletes 😃
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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 54,789 others
ynusername italy thanks for letting me be inside you (; it was such a lovely show, expect me back asap!!!!
15,267 comments
user51 IT WAS SO GOOD I THNK I BLACKED OUT THE WHOLE TIME THO
user52 oh!
user51 oh so now this isn't a safe space
user53 LANDO AND MAX IN TGE LIKES??? NO NO NO NO
user54 ABORT ABORT ABORT
user55 y'all are doing too much 🙄 she's one of the top artists in the world, i think it's safe to say they might like her music
user56 the second picture 🧎🏻♀️do you need a stool cause i can kneel and be really quiet
user57 y/n fans be normal challenge (impossible!!!) (never done before)
user56 WOMP WOMP
maxverstappen1 wonderful show! 🙏🏼 you are so talented
ynusername ty max (: im glad you could come see me
user57 ain't NO WAYYYYYY
user59 THIS IS SIXKENJNG IM GONNA PUKE
sabrinacarpenter my gf looking sexy 🫦🫦🫦
ynusername only for u bbg 🧎🏻♀️🧎🏻♀️🧎🏻♀️
user60 BOOOO 🗣️ GET A ROOM
user61 do y'all need a third!!!!
user62 mamma mia pizza pasta mozzerella moment
user63 i just put u on a watchlist
user62 🧍🏻♀️
landonorris RAHHHHHH 🦅🫵🗣️‼️
ynusername RAHHH RAHHH RAHHH RISE POWER POWER 💪🏻‼️
user63 what the fuck
user64 OH GOD WHAT IF SHES DATING HIM????
ynusername brother eughhhh
landonorris WHAT THE FUCK????
user65 SINCE WHEN IS SHE FRIENDS WITH F1 DRIVERS HOW MANY CHAPTWRS DID I MISS
user66 apparently we all went into a universal coma while she was out galavanting cause idk how else this could've happened
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maxverstappen1 posted to his story!
(caption: beautiful show)
22,456 replies
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user67 someone save my girl bro, she don't know any better 😭
user68 it's like a little kid trying to touch the hot stove, LIKE STOP THAT!! DON'T DO THAT
user69 am i the only one who thinks they'd be cute together....
user70 YES!?!?
user71 there is literally no fucking way he bagged her
user72 losing y/n to european f1 driver would be the biggest american tragedy since 2001
user73 i had to read this shit twice, op what r u waffling abt 🫵😧
user74 can't even be nonchalant about this one bro, i'm chalanting hard asf
user75 we do not care
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liked by redbullracing, f1, and 78,567 others
tagged maxverstappen1
ynusername first time in monaco, safe to say i enjoyed myself! so happy to see you shine this time my love<3
25,788 comments
user76 oh. my. fucking. god
user77 THEYRE FUCKING DATING OH MYFODNSJ
user78 THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE HOLDING YOUR HAND THAT SHOULD BE MEEE MAKING YOU LAUGHHH 🎤
user79 i'm in mourning
sabrinacarpenter CHEATER 🫵
ynusername BABY IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE, IT WAS JUST ONE TIME 😣😣😣 IT WAS A MISTAKE
maxverstappen1 we've been dating for 2 years??
sabrinacarpenter SHUT UP FAST & FURIOUS NO ONE ASKED YOU
user80 i'm sorry 😃 two Y EARS
user81 i feel like i just got dumped. y/n don't do this, the kids need you 😔
maxverstappen1 i got p1 for you, i love you 🫶🏼
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hope you all enjoyed! please let me know your thoughts and feel free to leave a request for me to write something for your fav <3
#f1 x female reader#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#formula 1#f1#f1 smut#f1 x you#formula one#f1 imagine#f1 smau#max verstappen smau#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n
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Aberration
#my art#maybe someday I'll get a proper flatbed so this thing won't look all skewed#I've put off posting this long enough I don't care all that much that it's not perfectly aligned tbh#and honestly I was debating even posting a full image anyway. the absolute shit state of the internet for art right now#tile design is inspired by moroccan zellij. I believe my reference images were from the Alcazar of Seville but I got them second hand from#work and no reverse image searching worked. I would go into it but no one is going to read these tags
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The Mysterious Visitor III
Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)
Synopsis: Bruce begins to suspect that Damian is hiding something after the two of you finally see each other, and the father-son trust between them is shaken. Tim finally sees your face, and something strange happens. The meeting between siblings was not successful, and to their dismay, Bruce will need to confront Talia face to face once again.
Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad; Bruce is intimidating; Hugo Strange mentioned; family discussion; maternal overprotection.
Word count: 3.6k
Note: I'm sincerely sorry if I didn't include someone on the tag list or if I made any mistakes. This part took longer because it's a bit longer.
Part I Part II Part III
"Forgive me for not offering anything sooner, miss," Alfred said, watching you carefully pick up the hot chocolate he had given to you. He found it curious how you ignored the handle of the mug, instead holding it with both hands, making sure wouldn't spill it.
You diverted your eyes from the brown liquid and looked at the old butler, now knowing his name, licking your lips after the sip to clear the excess drink. "It's okay," you responded, unaware of the chocolate mustache that had formed.
Bruce, still in the room, watched the scene from the side while patiently awaiting Damian. He traced circles with his index finger on the rim of the whiskey glass he had poured for himself, trying to keep control of how much he drank. Bruce would never admit it, but he needed to calm down, and perhaps a bit of moderate alcohol might help. He knew it wasn't appropriate to drink in front of someone as young as you, but he couldn't stop himself.
He was caught looking at you with a suspicious gaze that didn't waver. The room was filled with a palpable discomfort, and you, embarrassed, went back to staring at your own drink again, focused on listening to the crackling of the fireplace.
"Here, take this," Alfred said gently, extending a napkin from the tray. You accepted it and wiped around your mouth, finally realizing you'd made a mess.
Your mother would have scolded you for your lack of manners, you thought to yourself. And, for the thousandth time that night, you worried about how she would react to discovering you weren't in your bed. Maybe she had already noticed and was preparing a furious speech along with your punishment.
"What are you thinking about, dear?" Alfred asked, noticing your quietness as you rested the hot chocolate mug in your lap and started staring into nothing.
You snapped out of your stupor upon hearing the question, fiddling with one of the charms on your bracelet, the "T" specifically, Bruce couldn't help but notice. His mind was in turmoil, much like yours, with a thousand different thoughts arising every second. He felt strangely betrayed, questioning how much more his son hadn't told him—important things like the fact that he had a sister.
"I was just thinking that..." you trailed off, swallowing hard as the nervousness grew. Letting out a shaky sigh and with visible tears forming in your eyes, you continued, "My mom's going to be mad at me."
"And are you afraid of your mother?" Alfred insisted, trying to sound gentle upon seeing your distress.
"It's not quite that," you replied, trying to ease the situation so he wouldn't jump to conclusions.
You weren't exactly afraid of her, but you knew that rummaging through your mother's belongings, stealing a letter, and sneaking out in the middle of the night would disappoint her. You worried about her reaction and, above all, about Damian's reaction. If he was still the same, he certainly wouldn't be happy with the circumstances.
You tried to calm yourself, convincing yourself that you had the right to be angry for the first time in your life, not them, even knowing that your family would see you differently. It was as if you were perpetually a five-year-old in their eyes, always needing to hear lectures about every dangerous step you took.
Even though you and your brother were the same age, he was more responsible, smarter, stronger, destined to be a leader. And it annoyed you so much, but no matter what you said, your mother wouldn't change her mind about your upbringing.
When Damian left, Talia had said he would spend some time in a different place to learn new things and improve himself. For the first few weeks, it was even liberating not having him on your neck all the time, but then you realized it was because of him that you could do simple things like take a walk around the neighborhood alone.
Without Damian at home, your mother had no one to contradict her decisions, and her constant protection began to suffocate you. Then came the longing, and what was supposed to be a few months turned into years, and you never saw him again. You never stopped thinking about him. Every day, every birthday, and every Christmas, you would wait near the entrance of your apartment before going to bed, hoping that he would open the door again.
"Where is your mother?" Bruce suddenly interrupted, feeling Alfred's cautious gaze on him. You hesitated to answer, after all, although Mr. Wayne was a very popular man with a good image, you didn't know him. "I don't intend to harm you, but I need to know to take you back home," he justified, looking directly at your face, but Alfred knew this was Bruce's way of telling him that he wasn't interested in Talia, but rather in ensuring your safety.
"I'm not dumb, I know how to get home by myself," you tried to defend yourself. And though the words might sound arrogant, you said it calmly, not wanting to offend him.
"The point is not that. This is Gotham City, you shouldn't have gone out alone in the middle of the night." Bruce tried to reason with you, and it seemed to have worked because you fell silent.
"You need to trust us, miss," Alfred tried to encourage you to respond, but you remained silent. Bruce turned the glass to take a big sip of his drink and both gave up, not wanting to pressure you further.
The following minutes were silent, interrupted only by the sound of you drinking the hot chocolate in a few sips. Unexpectedly, Titus, Damian's German Shepherd, seemed to have taken a liking to you. He entered the room from the kitchen and stopped by your side to smell the new scent in the house. The relatively gentle dog sniffed around you, appreciating the head pats he received while you were enchanted by the furry animal.
Bruce couldn't help but compare you to his son since he began to analyze you. Damian had his mother's cunning personality and an arrogance that Bruce couldn't deny he had too, but it was more pronounced in Talia. He clearly remembered the first meeting with Damian. The first thing the boy did was make a ridiculous joke about his height, and he never seemed shy when meeting Bruce or the other boys. Also, when he arrived at the mansion, he felt comfortable analyzing every tiny detail of the house, unconcerned if his opinions were unpleasant.
You, on the other hand, although in different circumstances, limited yourself to a small space on the couch, responding only when asked and gladly accepting the kindness of Dick and Alfred. Bruce wondered how Talia could have raised a daughter like you. She and her sister, Nyssa, were sharp women, trained to be natural-born assassins, despite having a traditional father like Ra's. It was hard to believe that you, an apparently ordinary and shy girl, could be her daughter.
"Do you like dogs?" Bruce asked, deciding to stop being grumpy.
"I do, but I think I prefer cats." You continued to stroke Titus's cheeks, who began to want to climb onto your lap. Unfortunately, he was too heavy, and you had to push him back to the floor. The animal seemed to interpret that as a game because he kept trying to climb several times. "Mom gave me one for Christmas last year."
"Titus." Bruce's voice caught the dog's attention, patting his right thigh, calling him to sit on his lap. His gesture, although meant to stop the animal from bothering you, made you a little disappointed that you couldn't pet his soft fur anymore.
"What a coincidence. It seems you and Damian share something in common." Alfred was smiling while talking to you, which was rare for him. "Last Christmas, he also brought us two stray cats. The black one lives with us, but unfortunately, I don't know what happened to the other one. Curiously, the cat has my name." The butler tried to make a face at you, pretending to be unhappy. A Cheshire smile spread across your face, followed by the most contagious laugh he had ever heard, and he couldn't help but widen his own smile.
"The cat's name is Alfred?" You asked incredulously, seeing him nod positively. "Mine is an orange cat. He's cute but very troublesome; he even scratched one of my ballet shoes." You commented, much more at ease in Mr. Wayne's presence.
"An orange kitten?" Bruce's eyes widened slightly, just like Alfred's.
An orange and a black cat, both mentioned on the same date. Your seemingly trivial confession revealed to both of them that Damian had indeed kept in touch with you. Perhaps not directly, but it showed that he hadn't forgotten your existence and cared enough to have given the other cat to his sister as a gift. Now, because of you, they both finally knew what had happened to the other furball.
"Your brother also raises a cow here on the property." The butler thought it would be of interest to mention the funny fact, given that Damian was too irritable to raise something like a cow. And it seemed to have worked, as you laughed with genuine surprise in your eyes.
Bruce couldn't help but let out a muffled laugh when reminded of the cow, and unlike how he had been so suspicious of you moments ago, he was now more relaxed. He wondered when was the last time he saw Alfred so cheerful with someone new here at the mansion. The butler was a man full of tenderness for the family, but he was difficult to deal with for outsiders, although he always presented himself in a polite manner.
But the pleasant moment was suddenly interrupted by a series of voices coming from the top of the stairs, making Bruce and Alfred frown. Both stood up to see better what was happening and saw Damian pushing and shouting at his three brothers while struggling to descend the steps without being hindered by them.
Jason saw that Bruce and Alfred had already noticed them, failing to prevent the boy from confronting you three, and let go of his arm. Dick and Tim followed suit, defeated. The events of the night were revealed to him by his brothers, who told him everything from you being here to the fact that you had had some sort of contact with Strange. Damian went berserk at the last part and stormed out of the room in a flash.
Seeing his son in the Robin uniform, Bruce thought of reprimanding him, knowing he had gone on patrol alone again, but decided that was a matter for later.
"Damian," Bruce called out, calming him down a bit from his excitement. "We have a visitor." There was no view of the stairs from the living room, so you couldn't grasp that Bruce was calling Robin by your brother's name.
Damian descended the steps slowly, as if it were a very difficult task for him, and then finally looked at you, then at Bruce, and back at you, completely ignoring anyone else. He took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Dick had told him that his father didn't know anything about you being his daughter, but he was sure this secret wouldn't last much longer. And honestly, he preferred that both of you knew the truth, even knowing that his mother wouldn't be happy.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice.
You slowly got up from the couch, gripping the hot chocolate mug tightly. The truth was, Damian hadn't realized he was still dressed as Robin, and that's why you didn't recognize him. You stood there, paralyzed, not understanding why he was in Bruce Wayne's house, and why would he talk to you? Or maybe this was some kind of joke, and you still hadn't figured it out.
Damian was silent for a moment, his expression serious. "You were supposed to stay with Mom. It's not safe for you here."
"Master Damian," Alfred spoke, signaling to the mask on his face. Damian quickly tore it off, feeling stupid for forgetting about it.
You almost let the mug slip when you saw him. Your brother had grown a lot since he was ten. His face was thinner, more defined, and his eyes smaller, plus his voice was deeper. That's why you didn't recognize him at first. Before, you would have known who he was just by the sound of his voice, but it wasn't the same anymore.
You were happy and surprised at the same time. That moment was shocking, and the bitterness you felt a while ago was forgotten. Your anger at discovering Damian ignored you for two years for the people in this house didn't cross your mind now, too busy trying to memorize each of his new features. The superhero world wasn't new, after all, but how could your brother be Robin? And if he was Robin, did he know Batman?
"I wanted to see you," you replied, your voice trembling. "I missed you."
Damian sighed, approaching. He wanted to argue but fought against it, knowing the last thing he should do was yell at you after so long. "I missed you too, but you shouldn't be here, S/n. Things are complicated here." He responded tensely, calculating his words and trying to find a way to get you away from Bruce as quickly as possible before something slipped.
Bruce watched your interaction, unsure of what to do. He didn't understand the depth of your relationship, wondering if he should intervene or let you talk alone. It seemed too personal to discuss in front of so many eyes.
In a brief exchange of glances with Dick, in a kind of silent conversation, Bruce signaled for him and the others to leave.
Understanding as always, Dick nodded, indicating they should leave but not before approaching Bruce with something. "Bruce, promise me you'll only read this card when you're in a clearer state of mind," he asked in a whisper, placing a piece of paper in Bruce's hand, careful to put the written part facing his palm. Dick rarely asked for promises, so Bruce reluctantly agreed.
"Can you at least tell me what it is?"
"It's a clue about Hugo Strange," was the simplest response he could give. "But let's leave that for another time," Dick emphasized, looking at you and Damian, who, to their surprise, were watching them.
"Let's go. This is no longer our business," Dick tried to pull Jason and Tim along, but Tim was stubborn:
"Did you give it to him?" Tim said just loud enough for Dick to hear.
"Yes, Tim," he replied, not wanting to give him more room to argue, going up the stairs two steps at a time, followed by Jason who climbed more calmly, holding onto the railing. Tim gave one last look at Bruce, then at Damian, Alfred, and then you, who was now watching the three. You already knew Dick, but the other two figures aroused your curiosity. How many more people live in the mansion?
The boy you didn't know was called Tim started staring at you with an intrigued expression. He hadn't managed to see your face closely before, but now, looking calmly, he couldn't avoid noticing how familiar you seemed. He felt he had seen you somewhere, but where? You examined him with the same perplexity, and for a moment he parted his lips to say something, maybe to ask if he knew you, but Bruce's voice made him jump:
"Tim, you should go to bed, just like your brothers." He asked in a gentle tone.
"Sorry, Bruce." He responded quickly, going up the stairs in same style as Jason.
"Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?" Damian took advantage of the fact that the three had left and angrily threw it in your face, but trying to disguise it at all costs to avoid sounding too harsh. His eyes were frantic, looking at every part of your face.
He wasn't sentimental, and he refused to go through the humiliation of showing any weakness at seeing your grown-up figure, even if it caused him heartache. "Why did you disappear like that? Mom's been worried for hours."
"I already told you. I wanted to see you." Your voice rose a bit, desperately trying to justify yourself. You wanted so much to hug him but felt too embarrassed to do so, finally realizing that the intimacy you had before no longer existed. It was as if he were a stranger.
"Let's go. I'll take you back." He grabbed your wrist, wanting to disappear from his father's sight at all costs, but you pulled away, surprising him.
"Why are you so eager to get rid of me?" You asked indignantly, trying to swallow the sob due to your wounded pride. The warmth in your heart rose to your head, finally feeling that old anger again. "I haven't seen you in years, and the first thing you do is want to keep me away again!" You were distressed, feeling rejected.
"Maybe it's because you only cause problems!" He exploded.
"I had forgotten how irritating you are!" You shouted at the top of your lungs, trying to push him back as you did in childhood arguments. Back then, you two were equal in strength, but now Damian was becoming a man, and he barely moved.
You didn't notice when you dropped the mug on the floor, which luckily didn't break as the impact was cushioned by the rug. But the little liquid left had spilled and stained it, and seeing Alfred pick it up to clean made you feel awful. You should have done it, but he stopped you when you made a move to bend down, saying it was okay. Alfred felt he shouldn't participate in this conversation and used the mug situation as an excuse to go to the kitchen.
"Stop." Bruce intervened between you two, separating both and giving his son a challenging look. He knew this kind of attitude was typical of him, but seeing how loyal and obedient Damian was to Talia, he thought he would at least show some sympathy to his sister. "S/n, why don't you go sleep a bit? It's late, it would be good to rest." He offered as a truce and also as a way to interrupt your meeting, seeing how bad it was going.
"Do you realize the danger she got into? Talking to strangers, no less." Damian spoke again, his voice dangerously calm, ignoring Bruce. "Do you have any idea who that guy was, S/n? Do you have any idea?!" His voice began to rise a few octaves.
A solitary tear rolled down your cheek, recalling the man who had helped you on the street. At that moment, he seemed like a good person, but the way your brother was talking, apparently he wasn't. "How many times do we need to tell you not to talk to strangers? Not to leave the house without telling anyone? It's always been like this since we were kids, you never change!"
You had no reaction. That single tear had turned into two, then into several others, as you shrank into your own shame. You felt ridiculous for coming here because of him.
"Damian, who are you talking about?" Bruce held him by the shoulders to stop him from continuing to spew anger at you. His voice was much deeper than the boy's, and although it didn't intimidate him, it was enough to make him look at him at least.
"Hugo Strange, Dad! Damn Hugo Strange!" Damian lost control of his own mouth, speaking without thinking and not realizing the slip he had just made. "Because she's too stupid to have the slightest notion about anything!"
"Hugo Strange?" Mr. Wayne asked out loud. You knew exactly who Strange was, just as you knew other villains, although you might not recognize them by appearance. But that didn't matter to you now, as you spoke right after:
"Why did you call him Dad?" You looked your brother in the eyes, expecting some kind of explanation, not noticing how his body hairs stood on end.
Suddenly, a realization hit you. This was his new family now, and this man was his father. That venomous jealousy returned once more, and you didn't know if it was because Damian now had someone to call 'Dad' or because it meant how close he had become to these people. Damian swallowed hard, sweating and standing still like a statue.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. I didn't mean to cause trouble." You apologized, deciding to completely ignore Damian from now on.
"No need to apologize." Bruce felt uneasy, and like you, he drew a wrong interpretation from it. He thought Damian hadn't told his sister who his real father was, which was possible considering he also hadn't told her he moved in with him. The fact that you two were twins was also still unknown to Bruce. The most logical idea, though not spoken or thought, was that you were Talia's daughter with another man. "I'll ask Alfred to show you a room."
You looked one last time at Damian before disappearing into some wing of the mansion. It hurt to see him watching you leave without even saying goodbye. A 'good night' would have been hopeful, even though you hated him now.
"Come, miss." You felt Alfred's hands on your back, guiding you. "I'll show you the guest room," he explained, and you looked back, seeing Bruce watching the two of you.
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you said, trying to sound as grateful as possible, while wrapping one arm around Alfred's waist affectionately. Bruce gave you a slight smile, uncrossing his arms to wave goodbye, which you returned with your free hand.
"You and I now have a lot to talk about." Bruce's aura had become cold again. The trust he had built with Damian wasn't broken, but it definitely had a crack.
"Mom is coming," he said in a low voice "I called her as soon as Dick started told me everything," he confessed, knowing Bruce would be furious, watching him run a hand through his hair to relieve the tension.
Following his example, Damian also sat in one of the armchairs in the room, analyzing his father's movements. Whenever Talia and Bruce were in the same room, even if they didn't do it openly, they fought for some kind of dominance.
Bruce made a move to take out the card Dick had given him to see its contents and maybe pass the time while the second storm of the night was yet to come. The first had been you, of course. He ran his fingers along one of the edges of the card, without taking it completely out of his pocket, and then remembered his son's words:
'Promise me you'll only read this card when you're in a moment of clarity.'
The last thing Bruce had now was clarity. So he sighed heavily and pushed it back into his pocket, staring at the boy beside him. "Why do I feel like your sister should be a secret, Damian?"
Tag list:
@lafrone @sylum @mileskisser @belowbreadcrumbs @riddle-me-im-sirius
@rafa-the-beautiful @shehrazadekey @fairuzwhat @bedeater @arianapjs
@idonthaveanameforthisacc @azulawayne @nciolisa @lovelywritersgarden
@spideybv28 @faimmm @formula-space @cherry-peach-flavored
@godknows-shetried @randomrosie01 @whatsupstark @paastaboi @m3ntally-unstable
@masterradd-28 @justanormalpersin @6000-fandoms @fennecspage
@homan-oid @fluffy-strawberries @animegirlfromvietnam @tamsyien @ari-sama21
@kataraluvr @boatempollstriper @lokisgoodboy @enjisthings @thereeallink
@lumalesa-kadichizho @fyodorssimp1 @shintax-error @lara20aral @sulatsadark
@notahappystan @nebuluma
Credits for the divider: @cafekitsune
#imagine#x reader#angst#batman#batsis#batfam#batfamily#bruce wayne#damian wayne#dick grayson#sister reader#daughter reader#child reader#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x sister reader#batman x reader#batman x daughter reader#batfam x batsis
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So.
Re: tumblr bans of transfemmes.
Let's ignore PhotoMatt for a moment. Manbaby tech CEO doubling down on a stupid decision and making himself look like more of an ass doing so is not a new phenomena.
Tumblr has consistently said, in both public statements and leaked internal communication, that they're essentially running a skeleton crew.
They keep saying that they don't have the resources to moderate, manually review posts, have any kind of appeal process, or anything. So, as people have widely received communications about, they seemed to have automated a significant portion of the moderation to operate solely on the quantity of reports (probably with a basic filter, eg quantity of reports regarding a certain post, within a certain timeframe) to automatically ban or shadowban accounts.
And so, they wipe their hands, both to the users, the public, and their own consciousness, and go about their automated operations.
All of this is likely true. Tumblr, at this point, is essentially abandonware internally, a kind of weird vanity project/dumpster ground for server infrastructure for Automattic. Likely, they don't want the bad press of "shutting down" fully. Or maybe the trickle of revenue they get here just barely exceeds operating costs, so why not keep it around?
Whatever is the case, the bans are a result of an automated process working in the background. I'm giving them some benefit of the doubt here, of course, we can't know anything for certain- but it seems like the individual bans are not based on any specific, manual action.
And that doesn't fucking excuse anything.
Because at some point, multiple people sat down at tumblr, and decided how to cut costs.
And they decided that the bare minimum of report abuse prevention was one of the first things on the chopping block.
Before the boops. Before GUI reconfigures.
They decided to cut something that is necessary to manage online communities.
They decided to cut something that ensures any targeted group will have any kind of community online.
And then, after all of that, the only manual intervention is doubling down on the shitty decisions that the automated systems make, and plucking reasons out of their ass for why they were the right decisions all along.
It's pure silicon valley brain. Blame the computer often and always. Use it to shield the active decisions you made when designing the computer that way. Treat it as a fact of life as opposed to something they actively made decisions for.
Is tumblr staff hitting the banhammer on each transfemme one by one? No.
Is tumblr staff deliberately crafting a system that allows TERFs and other conservative bigots to get rid of the "undesirables" for them? Yup. But they sure as hell are trying to not say the quiet part out loud. If they can always point the finger somewhere else, to the advertisers, to the automated systems, to the TERFs, then they can always have juuusssttt enough plausible deniability.
But being the "queerest place on the internet" requires concious acknowledgement that queer people will be targets of harassment, and you will have to protect against that.
Side note, this is why I do try to keep my blog at least somewhat SFW. Its one of the main reasons why I choose not to reblog all of the posts I'm tagged in- if the post is overtly NSFW, I've probably seen it, appreciated it, and consciously decided my level of interaction with it mostly based on how "tumblr friendly" it is. Is that bowing down to them? A little. It's also my choice. I value the community I have here. The pushes that y'all have given me gave me the strength to transition, and honestly gives me a lot of motivation to research HRT biology as much as I can, among many other things.
Yeah, I post pictures that are clearly meant to be found attractive in ways that are generally not socially acceptable , but never actual NSFW. I would like to think that I'm pretty safe from bans, but hey. Who knows. I don't want to lose my follower base, and the community around it.
And yeah, I'm gonna annoyingly remind you of the other places to find me, make sure to check my pin. If you don't know where to go, just find me on reddit and go from there, I'll post about it if anything happens.
#I hope this rant is at least somewhat intelligible#im in lab late night and typing this out as fast as i can in between experiment steps#stay safe out there yall
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#this is one of my favorite pokémon of ALL time. this is one of those pokémon that#when it first came out‚ i had such a Visceral reaction to. i couldn't get over this fucking dog. and i still can't#THEY CAN'T FUCKING SEE!!!!!! AHJGSAKDGASJGDSKCGAJVCKABCKB#i love it SO much it's so fucking. cute. it's so fucking cute. so happy to see that blue haired bitch in the sv dlc having one#DAS IST MEIN BABY. I LOVE IT. lord this is the best. gushing over this dog#while also listening to discO-zone for the first time in a Long time#which is one of my favorite albums of all time. right next to probably vylet pony's cutiemarks and the things that bind us#and burn pygmalion from the scary jokes#there you go. there's my music taste lain out flat. kinda all over the place but discO-zone is one of those that i've loved since i was#a real youngin. and i just rediscovered it last night and UUUUUUUGGHHHH IT'S SO GOOD#MUSIC!!!! AND DOGS. feeling GOOD this morning#by the time this posts‚ it'll be like. two weeks later. but past me was feeling great when she posted this#about to start shiny hunting pawniard for a friend's birthday. technically getting eggs as i write this#wish me luuuuck..! it'll probably be his birthday by the time this posts. lemme check#oh yeah this is gonna post two days After his birthday. hopefully by the time this goes up i've already got the pawniard#HI FORGOT TO TAG THIS ONE#hisuian growlithe#hi from the future again lol his birthday was like a month ago by this point because i ended up queueing up this guy before all the gmax#forms. i totally forgot them. and this whole time i've been queuing them up and shoving them Above this guy. so it was even longer ago#that i queued this guy up at this point. teehee!
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hmmm maybe dadrry where he pretends to make her jealous but it doesn’t work bc they’re so secure in the relationship they just smirk and tease them, or that yn gets mama bear when she sees other moms hit on harry at school or daycare
——
In a couple of weeks, the preschool your eldest daughter attended was going on a field trip to a petting zoo in Montebello, California. Chaperone sign-up sheets were recently emailed to every parent, and you were debating with Harry about who should be the one to tag along. It wasn't a requirement to be a chaperone, but your worrisome maternal instincts sure made it one.
Harry was lying on the couch, his socked feet dangling over the armrest. You sat normally, your legs bent over his straightened knees, as you stared into space. The conversation kept hitting dead ends, but you were insistent on coming up with a solution as soon as possible. You had enough on your plate to deal with in the weeks ahead.
"Only one of us can chaperone the field trip," you repeated for probably the fourth time that night.
"I'm more than willing to take off work for it," Harry replied, his fingers casually laced over his chest. His eyes were closed since it was nearing ten p.m. and you hadn't been able to make up your mind about which parent should volunteer their time and energy toward the field trip. You had cornered Harry when he went to shut the living room lights off and forced him to sit down before he retreated to bed. It wasn't that you didn't trust him to be a chaperone—he'd definitely handle the controlled chaos that came with supervising a group of kids in an environment full of animals to gawk at. You just considered yourself a more watchful person, but really, it was an excuse to witness your daughter's interactions with her classmates and make sure she was adjusting well to being in school.
"I'm more than willing to as well. So..." You tapped your fingers against the couch cushion. "We need to make a decision right now. Signups are first come, first served."
Harry hummed in acknowledgment. "I can go."
You slowly nodded and said, "Okay. Well, so can I. You know, if you're not able to take off work."
He snorted a laugh and shifted his head, getting more comfortable. He was going to get a crick in his neck if this conversation didn't hurry along.
"What?" you asked, unsure why your reasonability was so amusing to him.
"You're funny."
You tilted your head back against the couch and sighed toward the ceiling. "Harry, I'm trying to get us ahead of the game. Otherwise, neither of us will be able to chaperone, and then our child will be in the care of a random parent."
Your trust in the preschool was substantial, yet a part of you was still cautious about the parents. You hadn't had the chance to build relationships with them since you started working part-time again. Your little girl was a wanderer, and if something caught her attention, she was off and admiring it without notice. Other parents didn't know that about her. What if they didn't pay close enough attention and accidentally let her get lost? The mere thought was why you were determined to claim an open spot as a chaperone.
"You're not making this particularly easy, honey," Harry said lightheartedly, tiredness rasping his voice. "I am actively telling you that I would love to be a chaperone instead of a chef for a day. Petting adorable animals is also a plus."
"Maybe we can write both of our names down," you replied, deep in thought. Half of what Harry said ricocheted off your brain.
"I don't think that's allowed." He yawned, stretching his arms. "Just put my name down. If work ends up being a problem, I'm sure they wouldn't mind you taking my place."
You contemplated his decision, then asked, "Did you read the chaperone responsibilities list?"
He frowned. "No, but there's time. The email was only sent this morning."
"You have to read it," you said firmly. He needed to be as prepared as possible. This was the first field trip of many. Rules have most likely changed since you were a kid.
In a lull of silence, Harry's hand caressed your ankle. "What are you so anxious about? Talk to me."
You wanted to say everything, but not even someone as wise as Harry could procure a remedy for that. "Nothing," you mumbled. "Just trying to have a solid plan in place."
"Are you worried the moms will be all over me? Pulling me aside and asking me"—Harry paused for dramatic effect—"burning questions?"
You looked over at him, taking in his sly little smirk. He was being like this on purpose. Not to make you jealous, since you were years past that phase—instead, it was a way to distract you from ruminating over minuscule matters.
"I’m not worried at all," you said confidently, flashing him a grin. "Because you know what to do if that happens, right?"
Harry wordlessly lifted his left hand, showing off his gold wedding band snugly fit on his long ring finger. Exactly, you thought to yourself.
"And what if they persist?" he asked, enjoyment clear on his face. You knew he loved this type of banter.
"You show them the picture of me that you keep in your wallet." You leaned toward him. "Then your last resort is calling me and putting whichever mom is flirting with you on the phone."
His teeth bit into his soft bottom lip. "Yes, ma'am."
You crooked your pointer finger, beckoning Harry closer. He sat up with a groan, his face now mere inches from yours. The hypothetical scenario caused misplaced jealousy to surge through your bloodstream, and you had to remind him of some things.
"You're my husband."
Harry traced the tip of his nose along your cheekbone and said, "Loud and proud, baby."
Your breaths were shallowed. "Father of our two children."
"And counting."
You pinched his waist, and he writhed with a heavenly laugh. "You're conventionally attractive, which piques a lot of people's interests. And while it used to bother me in the past, I know that your soul is tethered to mine."
His hands traveled an intimate path up your thighs. "It always has been," he said, his eyes sincere.
"So," you said with finality, your heart racing from his words, "I will let you chaperone the field trip. Because you always come back to me and our family. And I know work has been keeping you away from our girls."
"How do you turn the most mundane thing into a romantic declaration?"
"With you as my muse, it's pretty simple."
Harry moved closer and brushed his lips against yours. "If you keep melting my heart, I'm going to lay you down on this couch and make love to you until the sun rises."
"Risky," you whispered, smiling against his mouth. The kids were asleep down the hall. Any lovemaking would no doubt be interrupted by the baby monitor.
"Tell you what," he said, stealing a hot, deep kiss from you that left you briefly stunned. "This weekend, I'll have my mom take the girls for a day so you and I can love on each other without any distractions. I miss having you all to myself."
"I'm right here," you said, cupping his face. "And I'd appreciate it if you kissed me some more."
"I thought you needed to sign me up as a chaperone."
You kissed him three times in quick succession before saying, "Shut up and make out with me."
"Roger that," Harry murmured, towering over you until your back sank into the couch.
——
#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#dad!harry#dadrry#harry styles au#harry styles#adore-laur
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they're just a lil stitious.
bonus:
#I would say im sorry for being annoying and still posting abt this but I'm not bc im slightly obsessed#the way they are giggling abt not touching it and shit is so !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! to me#also my other gifset says that benny said 'dont touch it man' but I STILL dont know which one of the two it fucking is but thinking abt it#benny asking 'dont touch it right' makes more sense w matty's answer so I will b regiffing n reposting the og gifset...anyway to the acc ta#hockey#nhl#florida panthers#matthew tkachuk#aleksander barkov#sam bennet#and so many more#kyle.gif#hockeyedit#chucky#panthers#barky#benny#also ive seen a good few of yall add those lil comments to gifs which feels like im 16 again making compilation videos on yt so im#having fun w that and copying it#also there r so expectations on me to make specific kinda gifs on here so i can do what I want#writting diary entrys in the tags of gifs is my favorite pasttime fr
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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)
♫ Summary: Eddie asked you on a date. Maybe. Possibly. But you definitely accepted. (5.6k words)
♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, mentions of sex, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, tipsiness, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)
♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult
chapter ten: this foolish lover's game
“I’m telling you: it’s a date.”
Nora flicked through the items on the clearance rack, searching for something in your size. She pulled out a floral shirt, wrinkled her nose, and promptly put it back.
“It’s 1993. A guy and a girl can hang out without it being something romantic,” you retorted, trying to ignore the fuzziness that filled your head at the potential classification of your upcoming night out with Eddie as a ‘date.’
“Very true. But that’s not the case here.” Nora sighed at the limited clothing choices and at your stubbornness. She stalked over to a rack of regularly-priced skirts, evidently on a mission. “And you know it, too, which is why you asked me to help you choose a new outfit.”
You had done that, though you definitely regretted it now. It had been so long since you’d actually gone out with friends that you really did need new clothes, but you had no idea where to start.
Enter Nora: best friend extraordinaire. She was just as great at finding clothes that flatter your figure as she was at being a study buddy. Her opinion mattered to you; it was necessary, especially considering the way you currently teemed with self-doubt.
She plucked a denim miniskirt from the lineup and held it against your waist. “Go try this on,” she said. You reached for the price tag, almost certain that it was out of budget, but she clamped her hand over yours. “My treat. Now, go.”
There was no arguing with her, not while she was shooing you into the dressing room. She clasped your shoulders as she steered you towards a curtain, yanked it open, and shoved you inside. “I’ll wait here,” she said.
You closed the curtain once again, unbuttoning your shorts and letting them fall to the thin carpet below you.
The skirt hung on its hanger, buttons all along the front, and it was impossible not to imagine Eddie being the one undoing them. His nimble fingers would dance across the seam as he positioned himself between your legs. You could practically feel his hands as they crept further upwards towards that dangerously sensitive part of you—
“Can we stop by the food court when you’re done? I’m dying for one of those cinnamon pretzels.”
The sound of Nora’s voice instantly cooled your heating skin. “Y-Yeah, sure,” you stammered.
Focus on that, you silently reprimanded yourself. Focus on Auntie Anne’s or Orange Julius or Panda Express—not Eddie tracing his tongue along your inner thighs.
You stepped into the skirt, warding off any lingering Eddie-related thoughts. Monday night would be like hanging out with Nora or Ben. There was no need to worry about your hair, or your clothes, or your makeup. Eddie was a friend, and only a friend, despite what absurdities your other friends planted in your head.
With the last button fastened, you allowed yourself to glance at your reflection in the mirror. The denim hugged your curves delicately, providing just a hint of what laid beneath without giving too much away. It looked odd paired with the old t-shirt you’d thrown on this morning, but the right top would make a world of difference.
Nora clapped her hands together the moment you opened the curtain. Her brown eyes lit up, and a soft squeal of excitement emanated from her throat.
“You’re gonna have Eddie eating out the palm of your hand,” she declared, reaching out to give you a little spin.
You gently pulled away from her as though it would offset the fluttering low in your stomach. “I told you, it’s—”
“Yeah, I know. Just two friends going to the bar, pretending they don’t wanna bone each other.” Nora rolled her eyes, already sick of the will they-won’t they song-and-dance.
You ducked back into the fitting room to change out of the skirt. “He doesn’t wanna bone me.”
“But you wanna bone him?”
It came out as a question, but you knew she meant as a statement.
“First of all, stop saying ‘bone.’” You hissed, tugging your shorts back over your legs. “Second, Eddie and I are friends, and he’s taking me out for graduation. End of story.”
Nora’s sigh was audible from the other side of the curtain. “Not ‘end of story.’ You didn’t answer my question. Do you wanna b—have sex with Eddie?”
Your hesitation was enough of an answer for her, and though you couldn’t see her face, you were certain she was grinning when she announced, “I knew it!”
“It’s not like that,” you protested. The fitting room was suddenly far too crowded and depleted of oxygen despite you being its only occupant. You threaded the teeth into your shorts zipper and grabbed the skirt, now heavy in your hand. “Yeah, he’s pretty cute, but—”
“But nothing. C’mon, just admit it: you like Eddie.” You could detect a hint of exasperation in her tone. Frustration, even, or confusion as to why you continually denied yourself life’s small pleasures.
You couldn’t answer that, either.
Protest died with the subtle twitch of your lips that gave away the truth. You hated your tells, the ones that swiftly uncovered the feelings you worked diligently to stifle. And you knew that if Nora kept pressing you about this crush, you would eventually break down and divulge it all.
Not just your burgeoning romantic feelings towards Eddie. Not the way you told bad jokes just to see his lopsided smile and the nose crinkle that often accompanied it. Not the multiple occasions when you caught yourself staring at the muscles in his arms and ached to kiss right along the hardened edge of his biceps.
Once you said those thoughts out loud, gave them the weight of spoken words, they became real. Able to hurt you when he inevitably didn’t reciprocate them.
And that terrified you.
“You have a big ol’ crush on him,” Nora continued, “and he has one on you.”
“He doesn’t have a crush on me,” you mumbled, purposely averting your gaze from hers.
Through peripheral vision, you could see her raise one brow. “Says who?”
Says the song lyrics about his ex-girlfriend. But that was too much to explain, so you slapped on a tight smile and shook the thought away. “Never mind. Let’s just pay for this.”
Nora swiped her credit card with an ease that only comes with the luxury of not having to worry about paying the water bill. She never had to dip into her own savings to keep the lights on. Buying her friend a miniskirt for a maybe-date wasn’t going to affect her grocery budget.
“I have the perfect pair of Docs to go with this. You can borrow them,” she said, pointedly adding “for your date.” She was either oblivious or didn’t care that the cashier was eavesdropping on your conversation.
“Not a date.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Nora plucked the bagged skirt from the cashier, flashed her a grateful smile, and shoved it in your direction. “Just answer one question for me—are you gonna wear lace panties underneath this, or cotton?”
When you once again failed to look at her, her grin widened.
“That’s what I thought.”
On Monday evening, you found yourself poised in front of the mirror, still fogged from your shower. The inky blue sky leaked into your room through the time-worn blinds, the sun almost fully faded into nighttime, which meant that Eddie would be knocking on your door at any moment.
The hem of your black fitted t-shirt met the waist of your skirt, the slightest gap between the two fabrics. It wasn’t scandalous by any stretch of the imagination, but it still conveyed one message: you wanted Eddie to look at you. Wanted him to notice your soft skin the way you noticed his flexing muscles, with awe and more lust than you cared to admit.
Did it all reek of desperation? What if Eddie was wearing the sweatpants he’d donned to remove the wallpaper? Just the possibility of him looking at your own outfit, at the effort you put into your appearance, and realizing you’d interpreted a friendly gesture as a date had you cringing.
No, this was a bad idea. You had to back out, now. Claim that you weren’t feeling well, maybe even take some ibuprofen in front of him, and promise a raincheck. You did feel the familiar throbbing that accompanied a tension headache, so it wasn’t a total lie—
Knock knock.
Sweat overrode the antiperspirant you’d lathered on, flooding you with a nervous heat. You frantically wiped your slick palms on the bed sheet like a cat at its scratching post and opened the door.
Eddie's eyes widened and his tongue brushed over his lower lip. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped to your exposed thighs, drinking in every ounce of visible skin as though it was the only sustenance he’d ever need. His stare was hungry, if only for a moment, before his words broke the trance.
“You look…good. Pretty.” He swallowed thickly and forced himself to meet your eyes. “Sorry…just not used to seeing you all dressed up.”
Pretty. Eddie Munson thought you were pretty. The notion sent serotonin surging through you, a soft giggle passing through your lips. It was embarrassing, this schoolgirl crush, the way a simple word from him rendered you pathetically speechless.
A barrage of compliments perched themselves on your tongue, waiting to be untethered. He looked good, too; beyond that, he looked handsome. His cream colored shirt was baggy around his torso but clung to his biceps, drawing your attention to the vein that ran up his forearm.
You willed yourself to say something, anything, to reciprocate his kind words.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, mirroring your nervous energy as he gently rocked from the heel to the toe of his Reeboks. “We should get going,” he said.
Opportunity slipped from your grasp; anything you said now would seem like pity. Your only response was a nod as you locked the door and started towards the lobby.
Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.
Mom stood behind the desk, flipping through the check-in sheets with the cap end of a pen clenched between her teeth. She looked up, blinking in rapid succession when she saw you and Eddie approaching. You weren’t sure what surprised her more: you going out, or the man accompanying you.
“Well, don’t you two look nice!” She grinned, though the smile didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “What’s the occasion?”
“Just getting a drink,” you said as casually as you could. “Celebrating my—the wallpaper.” It was a lame finish, one that Mom didn’t quite believe, but she lacked the energy to push further.
Guilt panged in your chest, not just at the lie, but because part of you felt like you were taking advantage of her exhaustion. You couldn’t tell her the real reason for the celebration; bile rose in your throat at the thought. Instead, you smiled and promised to be home before the start of your shift.
“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Eddie added with a mischievous edge, not sexual in nature but still had your stomach doing somersaults. “I know she can be quite the troublemaker.”
Mom laughed at this, so pure and genuine that you were half-tempted to ask Eddie if you could stay here and talk with her all night. Maybe he could break the news to her, since they seemed to get on well enough.
You felt her watch as Eddie opened the door for you and gave the tiniest bow to let you pass, though you didn’t dare look back at her. Not because she wouldn’t approve—just the opposite. Looking at your mother would confirm what you already knew deep down: she’d be beaming at the sight of you going on a date.
If that’s what this was.
Eddie shuffled to walk right by your side, sneakers scuffing against the broken pavement. A flicker of hope ignited within you that he would do something to confirm that this was, in fact, a romantic endeavor and not just two friends getting a drink. Perhaps an arm slung over your shoulder or a hand laced with yours.
There was only the gentle brush of his fingers against yours, knuckles grazing one another as they nearly slotted together. It was taunting, the way they could be a perfect fit if given the chance.
You almost went for it, almost grabbed hold of his hand yourself, but fear had you in its own grasp. Even if the benefit outweighed the risk, you couldn’t stop picturing him tugging his hand away from yours in a humiliating show of rejection.
“You okay? You’re not, like, mad at me again, are you?” Concern creased Eddie’s brows, and your heavy heart realized that the last time you were this quiet around him was after the argument.
“Not at all. Sorry.” You shot him a reassuring smile. “Just lost in my own thoughts.” You sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t ask you to elaborate on those thoughts.
Luckily, he just tilted his head towards you, his eyes taking on an even more doe-like quality than usual. “That’s the problem with you smart people: you’re always thinking too much.”
You laughed as you nudged him, your right shoulder colliding with his left. He stumbled slightly, quickly catching himself before he could fully lose his balance.
“Hey!” He yelped, rubbing his upper arm. The muscles beneath it flexed at his touch. “Don’t damage the merchandise.”
“I wouldn’t dare. I…” You shook your nerves loose and faced him, speaking before you fully lost yourself in his full, waiting lips. “I’d never damage merchandise as priceless as you.”
Eddie stopped in his tracks, the compliment seemingly rebooting his brain. Was it too forward? No, it couldn’t have been; he’d called you pretty just moments before. And it wasn’t as if you’d been forward enough to say he was sexy (though he was) or accidentally emasculated him by pointing out how adorable his soft dimples were (another fact).
His exhale was a disbelieving chuckle. “I, uh, don’t think anyone’s called me ‘priceless’ before. ‘Worthless,’ maybe, but…” He trailed off in an attempt to contain it as a lighthearted joke, but it was anchored by an undeniable truth.
If you could, you would wash away the ego-marring stains left behind by those who hurt him. Scrub and scrub until it was once again pristine as though they’d never been tarnished by self-doubt.
“Priceless.” You said it definitively, leaving no room for further argument.
Eddie ducked behind his hair, letting the curly locks dangle over his mouth to mask his flustered smile. You were willing to bet that a blush was spreading across the apples of his cheeks.
Curiosity loosened your inhibitions enough for you to reach out and tuck a few strands behind his ear. Sure enough, a delicate pink tinged his skin. You wanted to kiss it until your lips grew swollen from where his stubble scratched them raw.
Doing that would require something far more potent than inquisitiveness.
There was a decent crowd that night, not as packed as the weekend would have been, but there were enough people that only one empty stool remained in front of the bar. Eddie gestured to it, offering you the seat just as he had on the subway last week.
You tucked the denim fabric of your skirt behind your thighs as you sat. Eddie watched every movement, an unreadable desire darkening his expression, as if he wished it were his fingers on your skin.
Your smile seemed to snap him from his trance. He waved down the bartender, who held up her forefinger to signal she would be right over.
A shadow draped over you as you scanned the liquor-cluttered shelves, bathing you in a welcoming darkness. Protection. Eddie’s arms framed your torso, his hands planted firmly on the bartop. And when you lightly grasped his wrist, your thumb rubbing against the soft hairs on his arm, you could have sworn you felt the tension leave his body in one swift exhale.
“What are you gonna get?” The grainy pop music playing from the speakers and a cacophony of neighboring conversations muffled his voice, and he had to shout just to be heard.
“A vodka tonic.” Simple, classic, and most importantly—not expensive. Though you probably should let him be the judge of that, considering it was his treat. “If that’s okay?”
Eddie laughed softly and nodded. “It’s your night, Heiress.” The tip of his tongue swiped over his lower lip.
He ordered your drink first, then placed his order for whatever beer was on tap before declining to open a tab. Your chest went slightly concave; you should have followed his lead and ordered the cheaper option.
As if sensing your guilt, Eddie pulled back enough to look you in the eye. “It’s your night,” he repeated, grabbing your short, stout glass and placing it in your hand. He raised his own taller mug, proposing a toast. “To a badass future social worker and all of the lives she’s gonna change. For the better,” he added quickly.
Before he could clink his glass to yours, you locked eyes with him. The brown eyes that steeled themselves against you the night he first checked into the motel were now pillow-soft, beckoning you to fall. He may not have even been aware of it himself.
“To the coolest rockstar I know,” you said, allowing the lips of your glasses to touch. “And the second-coolest guest to ever stay at the motel.”
Eddie raised a brow. “Second?”
“You really think you’re cooler than Phyllis?”
“Touché.” He relented with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink that left a foamy mustache on his upper lip. Without a second thought, he licked it away.
The movement enraptured you: his tongue swiping over his skin, leaving no residue in its wake. That same tongue that peeked out from his mouth when he was focused, a simple muscle, but it held your attention for a beat too long.
“Are you…” Eddie gestured towards your vodka tonic, and you realized you hadn’t even taken a sip.
Cheers to embarrassing yourself ten minutes into the date. Non-date. Whatever it was.
The vodka’s bitterness and the bubbles from the tonic water seeped into your tongue. You savored the burn as you swallowed. It had been so long since you’d had a drink, and just the first taste had you buzzing. If you didn’t pace yourself properly, you’d be tipsy far too soon.
The sound system crackled and microphone feedback shot through the bar. You and Eddie winced in unison, each taking a gulp of your drinks.
A man in his mid-thirties, balding with a goatee, stood at a makeshift stage at the back of the bar. “Welcome to Music Mondays here at The Brink. That’s right…it’s karaoke night!”
There was a smattering of applause that didn’t match the emcee’s enthusiasm, but he remained undeterred.
“Sign up here with your name and your song, and we’ll get started in a few minutes. Drink that liquid courage and come on down!” The microphone screeched once more as he slid it back into the stand.
You turned to Eddie, your eyes wide with mischief. “You’re gonna do it, right?”
Eddie scoffed. “Fuck, no. I’m not getting up there and making a fool of myself.”
“But it’s my night,” you reminded him. “You said so yourself.”
He looked poised to argue, one hand gripped tightly around the mug’s handle, his mouth ready to say no. But then you batted your eyelashes and pouted, all in jest. A dramatic showing that you didn’t expect would convince him.
A wry smile betrayed his tough exterior as his thumb ghosted your lower lip. Lightning crackled at his touch, soft as it was, illuminating your bones and surging through your veins. When he pulled back, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, a light red stain tinged his skin. If he noticed it, he made no attempt to wipe it off.
“It is your night,” he mused, gaze flickering to your mouth before promptly returning to your eyes. When you lit up in anticipation of him conceding, he couldn’t help but grin back. “One song. And I’m choosing it.”
You couldn’t argue with him, not when his touch still lingered on your lip. He disappeared for a moment to add his name to the list. As soon as he was out of sight, you took a much larger gulp of your drink. A trickle escaped out of the corner of your mouth, and you haphazardly swiped at it with the back of your hand, lest it ruin the shirt you’d picked out especially for the date.
This isn’t a date. The reminder was as harsh as the vodka itself. You lifted the glass once more and drained it until the half-melted ice cubes clicked against your teeth. Whatever this evening was, you needed to relax. Enjoy Eddie’s company without reading too much into his every move.
You turned your attention to the TV mounted above the shelves, engrossing yourself in the scrolling closed captions. A weatherman announced that this summer was going to be a ‘scorcher,’ and though he said it with a plastic grin, you inwardly cringed at the impact the air conditioning would have on the electric bill.
“I’m up third.” Eddie’s voice broke in, turning the upcoming weather into a distant memory. He raised his brows when he saw your glass, now empty on the sticky bartop. “You finished that already?”
“Mhm.” Your smile was sloppier than you intended, your head starting to float from your neck as tipsiness crept in.
Eddie breathed out, shaking his head with a glimmer of a smirk. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or impressed, and you didn’t have time to ask before he waved over the bartender. “Just water, please.” He nodded his thanks when she slid it over. “Drink,” he said to you, and you dutifully obliged.
“What song did you pick out?” Something that is supposed to be screamed more than sung, you assumed.
He just shook his head again and swallowed more beer. “It’s a surprise.” His eyes twinkled when he said it, and you wondered if his choice erred more on the side of Madonna than Metallica.
A woman got up on stage and began her rousing rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.
Peppy? Upbeat? A great way to kick off karaoke night? Absolutely.
On-key? Not even close.
“If you ever start a new band, you should ask her to join.” You chinpointed towards the woman currently butchering the Cyndi Lauper classic. “She’s got that star power, I think.”
Eddie snorted but composed himself quickly to play into your joke. “I’m worried she’d outshine me.” He widened his eyes in faux concern. “Go solo and leave me behind, y’know?”
“She’ll probably steal all of your groupies, too,” you added, tutting as if to say, what a shame.
“Even you?”
You cocked your brow. “Who said I’m your groupie?”
He leaned his elbow against the bar, mouth slackjaw at your rejection. Disbelieving laughter left his throat in a huff.
“I take you out, treat you to the best watered-down drink this city has to offer, and this is the thanks I get?” His curls brushed against his cheeks when he shook his head. “Who would you be a groupie for? Wait, no; lemme guess.” He tapped his finger to his chin. “New Kids on the Block? Boyz II Men?”
“I think I’d die if Joey McIntyre so much as looked at me.” You hadn’t meant to say that aloud. The watered-down or not, the alcohol was certainly turning sober thoughts into tipsy words.
Eddie chugged half of the beer, watching as the woman on stage finished her song and left with a triumphant bow. “Pretty sure your shitty taste in music is what plays at the gates of Hell,” he said to you.
Your response was a mere flick of your middle finger.
A man in a suit took the stage next, loosening his tie as he positioned himself behind the microphone. A group of similarly-dressed men started hooting and hollering obnoxiously the moment the opening chords to Don’t Stop Believin’ blared through the sound system.
You looked back to Eddie. If he was nervous about singing karaoke, he didn’t show it. His shoulders were relaxed, his posture much less tense than on the walk to the bar. Maybe the alcohol loosened him up as it had you.
“What about you?” You asked. “Whose groupie would you be?”
“Easy,” he said, not missing a beat. “Joan Jett. Total badass, killer musician, and hot as hell.” He nodded to confirm his choice before leaning in and loudly whispering. “Bad Reputation was basically my secret anthem in high school.”
You laughed. “Did you imagine it playing in the background when you walked down the halls?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Eddie grinned and polished off his beer.
His confession warmed you—or maybe that was just the vodka working its way through your bloodstream. Regardless, you were intrigued by the glimpse into his past and found yourself hungry for more.
“Can I ask you a non-groupie related question?”
“Shoot.”
Your tongue was heavy, the resulting slurring softening your words. “If your hometown is so shitty, why are you trying to go back?”
He loosened a chuckle, glancing at the shelves of booze before looking back to you. “My uncle still lives there. He, ah, he raised me after my dad split and my mom…y’know.” Eddie cleared his throat and managed a small smile. “Why? You want me to stick around?”
The hair on his forearm tickled when he slid it over to nudge you, his pinky finger overlapping yours.
Of course you wanted him to stick around. You’d smear honey all over the motel’s siding to lure more bees, tempt them to build their nests among the sticky sweetness, just so he would have a reason to stay.
The man on stage belted out his final “don’t stop believin’” as his buddies enveloped him in drunken hugs.
“All right!” The emcee bleated into the microphone. “Next up, we have…” He checked the sign-up sheet. “…Eddie! Let’s give him a hand, folks.”
A smattering of applause echoed throughout the room, the excitement of karaoke night already dwindling. If Eddie noticed, he didn’t show it.
“This one’s for you, Heiress.” He winked and sprinted towards the stage.
Eddie pressed his foot on the microphone stand, adjusting it so it was level with his lips. His fingers curled around its neck, dramatically tugging it closer as the instrumentals piped through the sound system.
Well, since my baby left me
Well, I found a new place to dwell
Well, it's down at the end of Lonely Street
At Heartbreak Hotel
His hips swung back and forth, the gyrations not quite as precise as Elvis’s, but he still snapped them in time with the staccato guitar chords. The right heel of his sneakers tapped the floor as he continued, voice dipping into his lower register.
Where I'll be, I'll be so lonely, baby
Well, I'm so lonely
I'll be so lonely, I could die
Free hand pressed to his heart, Eddie leaned in your direction and tilted the mic stand while he sang. The movements were reminiscent of how a man would dance with someone he loved, impassioned yet graceful. Charisma oozed from every pore, his natural command of the stage an enduring reminder of his brief foray into rock stardom.
The other patrons faded into the background as his eyes fixed on you, a personal serenade rather than karaoke night amongst a sea of drunks. Easiness weaved through each note he sang, his body loosening and his lips curving into a smile when you let out a vodka-fueled whoop of admiration.
Now, the bellhop's tears keep flowin'
And the desk clerk's dressed in black
Well, they've been so long on Lonely Street
Well, they'll never, they'll never look back
Eddie pointed to you when he referenced the desk clerk, the crowd following his every move. The heat of their stares only exacerbated the warmth that the alcohol already sent coursing through you, but you felt no need to hide. The rich timbre of his voice was a magnetic pull, drawing you in until it echoed deep in your bones.
Although it's always crowded
But you still can find some room
For broken hearted lovers
To cry there in their gloom
Where they get so, they get so lonely, baby
Well, they're so lonely
They'll be so lonely, they could die
He ended the song with one final swing of his hips, one foot turned inward in an Elvis-esque pose. If anyone else applauded for him, it couldn’t be heard over the sound of your cheers.
He made a beeline for you. “Did that live up to your expectations?” Sweat dripped from his flushed forehead and down his temples.
“Exceeded them, actually.”
The bartender slid over two shot glasses filled with amber liquid. “On the house,” she explained when you and Eddie looked at her in confusion.
You shouldn’t. The TV set that broadcasted the news showed that it was nearly nine o’clock and you were already tipsy from the one drink. Adding a shot—and subsequently mixing liquor—was a recipe for disaster.
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t wanna,” Eddie said. “I’ll take them both.”
With a shake of your head, you took the glass nearest you and downed it, the whiskey burning stronger than you had anticipated. Tears reflexively welled in your eyes, leaving you clinging to the hope that you had blinked them away before Eddie could notice.
He let out a soft, low whistle. “Well, okay then.” His own shot disappeared past his grimacing lips.
A familiar synthesized beat replaced the idle hum of conversation as a middle-aged woman began her song. Eddie threw back his head when he heard it, groaning as though the ‘80s hit left him in agony.
“You’re such a music snob,” you lamented, reaching out with both of your hands to grab onto his. If this is what liquid courage felt like, you were more than happy to ride that wave. “There’s more to life than heavy metal.”
“I just sang Elvis!” He protested, but his efforts were all in vain as you hopped off of the barstool and led him away from your empty shot glasses. “Heiress…” His tone was a warning, one that you promptly ignored.
You let your gaze meet his, the vodka-and-whiskey combination working overtime to stifle your nerves.
“Dance with me.”
Eddie laughed. “You’re tipsy.”
“I’m tipsy and I want you to dance with me.”
“You wanna dance, huh?” He laughed again when you nodded. “All right; let’s dance.”
Eddie’s hands slid down to your wrists and adjusted your arms so they draped over his shoulders, his curls tickling your fingers when they clasped behind his neck. He hesitated for a second before letting his own fingertips rest on your waist, careful to avoid dipping below the small of your back.
Watching, I keep waiting, still anticipating love
Never hesitating to become the fated ones
The current performer was marginally better than the first two, but her voice wasn’t nearly as polished as Eddie’s. She kept getting too close to the mic, the lyrics muffled each time her purple-lipsticked mouth grazed the cover.
You inched forward, your chest against Eddie’s as the two of you swayed in tandem. His fingers flexed before tugging you closer, evidence that you weren’t the only one affected by the shot.
“Can’t remember the last time I heard this song,” he mused wistfully. “Probably my senior prom. The last one, anyway.”
“You had more than one senior prom?”
His cheeks, already pinkened from the liquor, flushed a deeper shade of red. “Yeah, it, uh, took me a few tries to graduate,” Eddie admitted. “But I did it.” A sheepish smile still held a twinge of pride.
“You did it.”
“Yeah.” One arm reached back to grasp your hand and twirl you around, and you breathed an audible sigh of relief when the room didn’t spin with you. “But tonight,” he grinned, “is all about you.”
You. Not the motel or its crumbling financial infrastructure. Not the guests or your parents. Not school or exams or term papers. Just you.
An involuntary giggle wriggled its way up and you ducked your head to hide it, your forehead brushing against Eddie’s lips. Did he purse them slightly in a hint of a kiss, or was that a figment of your imagination?
Turning and returning to some secret place inside
Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say
Take my breath away
“You okay?” Eddie asked, a smile in his voice.
“Mhm. Just happy.”
“Yeah? Good.” His forefinger tucked under your chin and tilted it upwards, granting him a better look at you. The tip of his tongue parted his lips and swiped over the whiskey-scented residue. “You deserve to be happy.”
You did deserve to be happy. You deserved joyful moments in your life, people who surrounded you in sunshine even when rain poured.
My love, take my breath away
My love, take my breath away
You deserved Eddie.
Standing before you, his eyes never strayed from your form, flicking from your face to where his hands gripped your waist. His chest rose and fell in time with the music.
“I…” You swallowed your fear, already tempered by tipsiness, curling your fingers into the back of his ribbed t-shirt collar.
Desire rippled down your spine and you leaned in to close that godforsaken gap, already tasting him on your tongue.
But not before he pulled away.
--
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🧸 Beary soon 🧸
Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, June 2024 edition
Prompt: stuff, 483 words
Rated: G
Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Mutual pining; Tooth-rotting fuff
“Careful,” Eddie says as Steve sweeps a horde of tiny demons off the desk. “They're delicate.”
“Oh, yeah?” Steve gripes. His arms are sore from carrying boxes and his head hurts. “How about you pack them yourself?”
“I’d love to,” Eddie grins obnoxiously. It tugs on the bandage covering his jaw, where the bats almost tore out his throat. “But alas, I’m under strict orders to rest.”
He settles against the headboard of his bed and winces as the movement pulls on his stitches.
“So you’d rather watch me work my ass off?”
“Exactly, big boy.” Eddie winks at him, and Steve feels himself flush for reasons he’s been refusing to examine ever since the spring break from hell. “Now go. If you can’t handle them with the appropriate care, I’ll get Henderson to do it. Carry those out to the van.”
He gestures at another pile of boxes, like a king giving orders, and returns to his comic book.
While he lugs the first box outside, Steve silently marvels at how much stuff the Munsons have in their tiny trailer. At least the new one is a little bigger, so hopefully it’ll look marginally less cluttered.
He's on the porch steps when the box tears. Books and random trinkets scatter in the grass. Steve swears and drops to his knees.
A shoebox is in the dirt, lid half open. It's labeled PRIVATE in big, black letters.
Maybe, Steve thinks later, he should've looked away. But he's tired and annoyed, and he figures one look at Eddie's stash of titty magazines won't kill either of them.
There's no titties in the box. What greets him instead is his own face, eyes closed, features limp. A polaroid of him, asleep by Eddie’s hospital bed. One of the kids must've taken it, given it to Eddie after he woke up.
There's more.
Wrappers from the candy he snuck in when Eddie wouldn't stop whining about the hospital food.
The card and little stuffed bear Dustin insisted he buy from the gift shop, because everyone was supposed to get Eddie something. The bear is wearing a tiny shirt. It says Get well beary soon. Steve frowns. Why would Eddie keep a secret box full of worthless junk he gave him, like some schoolgirl with a-
…
Oh.
“Stevie?” Eddie hollers from inside. “Are you still alive? Do you need me-?”
“No!” Steve yelps. He drops the bear as if singed, then crams everything back into the shoebox, slamming the lid shut so hard the cardboard dents. “I mean … stay where you are, you're supposed to be resting.”
“I'd rest a lot easier if you weren't smashing my stuff left and right,” Eddie grumbles. “But whatever you say.”
Steve's head feels light and tingly as he carries the shoebox over to the van.
Looks like he'll need to have a talk with Eddie soon. Beary soon, preferably.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fanfic#steddie brainrot#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#steddiemicrofic#hype's microfics
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Pressure
Billie eilish x fem!reader
Warnings: smut, strap-on, daddy!billie, tongue sucking, choking, cussing
A/n: @bilswildflower said she wanted someone to write it so I thought I would make a little something hehe
Billie had you against the wall pounding into you with no mercy in her veins. You were in one of the rooms backstage on the Stephen Colbert show and Billie had already went on, but will soon be performing one of her songs called “lunch” live. She would be going on in ten minutes and here she was fucking your brains out.
“F-fuck daddy!” You moaned out as Billie had your legs wrapped around her waist and your hands clawing at her clothed back. Her face was in your neck leaving love bites behind as she used one of her hands that was holding you up and trails it up your body. She lifted her face out of your neck and gripped your throat in her ring covered hand and kissed you deeply.
You both moaned in each others mouths and Billie starting shoving her tongue down your throat. You whimpered as her tongue explored your mouth and removed her hand from your throat to trail down to your stomach and apply pressure to see where the strap is. She smirked against your lips, breaking the kiss “mmm…right there…let’s see if I can go deeper how’s that mamas?” Billie whispered against your ear and you felt your eyes roll in the back of your head at her tone.
You whimpered out a yes and Billie gave you a smile and leaned down to kiss you again. She used her strength to put one of your legs over her shoulder and started pounding into you more at this new found angle and you moaned loudly. Hearing the moans and noises you make because of her makes Billie go absolutely feral. You kept moaning against her mouth and Billie takes that at another invitation to push her tongue in.
She swirls all in your mouth and finds your tongue and starts sucking on it, leaving trails of spit coming down the side of y’all’s mouths. You felt the strap on go deeper and deeper and Billie put her hands on your stomach against and pressed down back on it and smirked. “That’s more like it. Are you gonna come for daddy sweet girl?” She asked and you nodded, pressing your sweaty forehead against hers. Her thrusts started to become faster and harder making your legs shake, as you let out one final guttural moan before you came all over her.
She smiled and slowly pulled out of you, your cum leaking out of your pussy. Billie licks her plump lips at the state you are in and picks you up in her arms and sits you on the couch. She goes into the bathroom and gets a warm rag and starts cleaning you up as you sat on the couch, panting. “You did so good for me babygirl. So good.” She praised you and you gave her a tired smile as she leans down to kiss you softly. Someone knocks on the door telling Billie she’s about to go on and she looks at you “stay here and get some rest baby because im no where near done with you.” She rasped out and gave you a wink before helping you put your underwear and pants back on.
She then gives you her blazer to cover up with while you take your little nap. Billie walks to the door before spinning around and looking at you with a loving expression “I love you mamas.” She said sweetly and you felt your heart burst at the sincerity in her voice. “I love you more bils.” You say and she gives you a wink before she walks out the door. You smiled to yourself before covering up with her blazer. You nuzzle it up to your nose since it’s smells like her and fall into a deep sleep.
A/n: hehe I hope y’all enjoy and I hope @bilswildflower this is what you wanted! Remember my requests are still open for Melanie Martinez, billie eilish, and my other characters I write for. Remember to stay hydrated and that I love you! And this fic is also for @billiesbabygirl
Tag list: @mxqdii
#billie elish icons#billie ellish lyrics#billie eilish x you#billie eilish x y/n#billie elish moodboard#billie eilish x fem!reader#billie eilish fluff#billie eilish fanfiction#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish smut#billie eilish#daddy!billie eilish#daddy!billieeilish#mommy!billieeilish#wlw
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Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)
(Azul's Part two)
Previous Part (Leona)
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Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Riddle (Suggestive Themes), Leona (Cussing, Blood mention), Azul (Obsession, Manipulation, Cussing once, Potential Cannibalism? (He eats merpeople who are turned into Polyps). The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personality of our beloved boys
Due to the Tumblr Limit, Each one will be divided unfortunately, hopefully it's an easy navigation for all of you!
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First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul
Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus
List of Villains interconnecting with each character:
Riddle = Queen of Hearts
Leona = Scar
Azul = Ursula
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Azul:
“That’s all?” Your skepticism grew further while you scanned his face for any type of deception.
“That’s all” he said, leaning on the cauldron he placed his arms on the top of it, while resting his chin on his hand, he looks so trustworthy looking at you like that, if you didn’t know your Azul inside out you would have jumped into the opportunity of creating a deal with him in a heartbeat.
“Ask” You decided to take a bite on his bait, and that made Azul sneer, he walked towards you, a golden contract all too familiar was placed on your lap. “I can’t just ask you questions without having it written by contract my star” He pats the contract to your lap like he’s smoothing the paper out while calling you a little nickname he felt that was right. That was the nickname your Azul called you a lot, but right now, it made you feel uncomfortable, the situation was uncanny, grabbing the contract you tried to find loopholes that were written on it, but so far, you couldn’t find anything that dooms you to fail.
“So?” he urged you to sign away your soul faster, growing a bit impatient, he taps his arms while keeping it crossed around his body, “The contract won’t sign itself Starfish.” He turns around, giving you a reasonable distance as you contemplate about it.
Without anything to fall back to, you decided to take risk, your face turning sour as a magical pen manifested in front of you, taking it, you closed your eyes signing the contract, which made Azul’s heart beats fast, oh you’re in it now.
"Excellent!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm palpable as the contract vanished before your eyes, you felt as if you made a mistake, wanting to grab the paper again before it vanished, but before you could, Azul's cold fingers intertwined with yours, his other arm wrapping around your fins and waist. “Now come” he commanded, as if you had any say on it, dragging you to the couch, he placed you there, a more comfortable place to sit down than the rock earlier.
The first questions he asked were straight to the point, asking if you knew him in your “real world”, you answered truthfully and correctly of course! He may not be your Azul, but he’s still Azul, and you’re bounded by his contract.
While you would be fine on the first questions, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were scammed, but so far, they all were cut and dry, “What was my relationship with you?”
"You were my boyfriend" muttering that out, Azul was unreadable, humming in acknowledgement. You know he was quick with his tongue, and smart with it, of course; even if you keep your guard up, you know in the battle of wits, you lose to him.
So, the moment he traces his fingers on your shoulders, shivering at the sudden physical intimacy, he had planted his hands on your shoulders, leaning down as you kept your hands to yourself. “This is my last question” You looked hopeful, it was almost done! And so far, nothing bad happened yet, glancing to your side as he was really close to your face, you backed up a bit before looking down.
“Okay," your voice steady but your grip tight on your wrist. You tried not to feel nervous as you attempted to pinch yourself, the skin on your fins wasn’t something you could pinch on, so you ended up touching your wrists instead.
“Do you remember the first time you met a great mage?”
You look at him confused, eyebrows knitting together while you look at him confused. “What?” you tried to get any clarification for the question.
Oh, Azul was feeling gracious, an arm of his tracing your chin, “Let me clarify”
“When did you meet Azul?”
Well, that confused you more, answering him about the time you met your Azul.
You’re quite naïve, then again that question of his was bound to make you fail. Feigning sadness he pushes the hair away from your face as he leans closer. “How unfortunate, answering wrongfully.”
You feel your blood run cold as you look at him, “What-“Golden handcuffs wrap around your wrists as the contract takes effect, grounding you to it.
Unfortunately, you broke the contract, but that’s alright” he says smiling menacingly “At least you belong to me.”
Kalim's part
#azul ashengrotto#twst azul#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#obsession#obsessive love#twst x reader#disney twst#twst
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