#AND THEN I REMEMBERED BUT LIKE? NEVER GOT TO IT? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 2 days ago

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"This is me trying"

Prologue.

ok yall!! so i'm in a bit of writers block for IBDL and the older AU after tumblr deleted the chpaters I spent days writing. Butttt I did come up with this, reader is still neglected bc she can never be happy, but it's a darker Mafia Au. This also sucks bc it also got deleted but i really wanted to post something and get feeback on this concept. This is the prologue! Hope yall enjoy! Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments make my day and encourage me to write more. Send in aks!!

TW: BRIEF SA, IF IT TRIGGERS YOU, DONT READ!

The Wayne Manor was a sprawling gothic monstrosity perched on the edge of the Gotham skyline, a dark and looming silhouette against the backdrop of a city that never truly slept. It was a place where secrets festered, where power and control were everything, and where the lives of the people within its walls revolved around wealth, influence, and fear. For the people who lived in it, this was home. For you? It was a prison.The Wayne family was Gotham's most powerful mafia family, maybe even in all of North America, an empire built on crime, manipulation, and ruthless control. At the top of it all was Bruce Wayne, the cold and calculating godfather. Your actual father. Beneath him, each of his children had their role to play. But you, his biological daughter, were no more than a ghost within the house. You were a byproduct of a two-night stand with a whore, as your family called her, that had long since faded into shadows, and your presence was barely tolerated by the very people who were supposed to be your family.

At least, that’s how it felt after nearly a decade of living here.

You had arrived at Wayne Manor when you were just seven years old, dragged from the wreckage of your mother’s overdose by a man who was nothing more than a stranger. Bruce Wayne—cold, distant, and unforgiving. A man who ruled over the city with an iron fist and a heart as cold as the marble floors beneath your feet. He wasn’t your father, he never had been. He had simply become the man who was tasked with your care, but that wasn’t much of a care at all. Bruce’s love had always been reserved for the empire he had built, not you. You were merely another complication in his already fractured world. He told you that your mother had left you, that you were his responsibility now, and that you needed to prove you were worthy of the Wayne name. A name that, for the longest time, had been nothing but an empty echo in your mind.

Your mother was your hero, a military hero who realized how fucked up America was and retired. She, like most veterans, got hooked on drugs but that didn't mean she loved you any less. When she died, she took your happiest parts with her.

“Prove you deserve the last name Wayne,” Bruce had said when you were first brought into the manor, his eyes hard, his tone colder than the mansion’s marble floors. He’d looked at you like you were nothing but another part of the vast empire he controlled, a problem to be solved, a name to be earned.

And that’s what you did. You worked. You tried to prove yourself, to be a part of this family—this business. But it didn’t matter. You were invisible to them, a shadow in the background of the Wayne Empire. A ghost that haunted the halls of a mansion that never felt like home.

The moment he had taken you in, he’d told you to keep your head down. "Wayne’s don’t cry. Wayne’s don’t show weakness," he had said, his tone dead and devoid of any warmth. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to you unless it was to reprimand or scold you for something minor. You learned quickly that to Bruce, you didn’t exist.

He was the head of the Wayne Mafia and Wayne enterprise, the mastermind who controlled everything from the shadows. He was feared, respected, and never showed weakness. He wasn't your father. He was your boss, distant, cold, and authoritarian. To him, you were nothing. He barely acknowledged you unless you were needed for some mafia-related task, which was almost never. You were neglected in the deepest way possible, emotionally invisible, yet physically present only when it was required.

You learned early on that any attempt to gain his affection was futile. He was too busy running his empire, and any sign of weakness—like wanting to be close to him—was met with disdain. His affection was reserved for his empire and all his other children.

At 15, you had spent eight years in the mansion without a single ounce of affection from him. You were a tool to him, nothing more. And yet, despite his coldness, you still wanted to earn his approval. You knew it was futile, but there was still something inside you that clung to the hope that one day, maybe, he’d look at you like he did the others. You became top of your class, played volleyball, did cheer, ballet, theatre, became student council president, won every award under the sun hoping he’d notice, that one day he’d show up at your award ceremony and bring your siblings. They’d all be grinning at you proudly, they’d make sure everyone knew you were part of the family, they’d let you sit with them at dinner and let you tell them about your most recent tennis match. But that was always a fantasy.

And maybe that was what broke you the most: knowing that he would never see you as a true part of the family.

Earning the Wayne name felt like a distant dream, like something only the others could ever attain. Bruce made it clear when you arrived at Wayne Manor was that you didn’t belong here yet. His blood ran cold when he looked at you, as though you were a mistake he’d have to clean up. There was no room for kindness, no words of comfort. Just a cold gaze, and then the hollow command to stay out of his way.

As you grew older, the cruelty only deepened, and it wasn’t just Bruce.

When Dick Grayson entered the scene, you were still just a child, struggling to make sense of your place in the mansion. He was everything Bruce wasn’t, charming, always smiling, and the golden boy of the family. The way he spoke to you, with that practiced air of kindness, made your skin crawl.

But the smile he wore to the rest of the world was never the one he gave you. The moment the doors closed behind you two, that smile would disappear, replaced with a smirk that spoke volumes. His jokes about you, his casual jabs, it was like nothing you did would ever be good enough. He was always pushing you, always finding ways to make you feel small.

“You know, if you weren’t so weak, Bruce might actually notice you,” Dick would say as he walked by, his eyes flicking over you like you were nothing more than a nuisance. "But don’t worry. Maybe you’ll prove yourself one day. Maybe.”

His words, though they came with a laugh, always carried the sharp edge of cruelty.

The eldest of the children, the perfect golden boy, the one who could do no wrong in Bruce’s eyes. Dick was no different than the rest. As a leader of a section of the family’s operations, he was a busy man. He had his own goals and ambitions, and when it came to you, he cruel.

To Dick, you were a lost cause, someone who wasn't worth the effort, the butt of the joke. While he didn't mock you as often as Damian or Jason, he certainly didn’t love you, he didn't even like you. He was more likely to ignore you entirely, but if you caught him in a bad mood.........He never tried to be a big brother, and in moments when you needed comfort, he’d either brush you off or simply laugh at you and make you feel worse.

Damian—Bruce’s biological son. Your little brother who seemed to have it all. The heir to the throne, groomed for greatness, your father's love. It wasn’t hard to see the resentment and hatred in his eyes whenever you crossed paths. At 13, Damian was already a lethal force, training under the most dangerous men in the world. But what you hated most about him was that, despite the bitterness, he always seemed to find ways to put you down.

your younger half-brother, was the perfect assassin in training, and he hated you. He hated how you existed in his space, how you took up time and energy that could have been spent on his training. To him, you were a nuisance, a shadow in his way. He didn't care about family bonds or affection. You were just the member of the household that didn’t belong.

Damian's cold demeanor was the product of years of indoctrination into the Wayne family’s brutal world. He was protective of the family, of Bruce’s approval, so any sign of weakness or attachment from you only made him more disgusted. He’d learned to use violence as a way to control people, but when it came to you, he was especially harsh, never lifting a finger to defend you, but constantly mocking, hurting, and ridiculing you, making you feel small and insignificant.

Damian never missed a chance to make cruel remarks about you, as though any attempt at closeness with you would be seen as weakness.

"You're nothing more than a distraction," Damian would sneer as he walked past you, his green eyes glowing with disdain. "Father is wasting time on you. You’ll never be one of us."

His words sliced through you like a blade, and it only made the ache of rejection burn deeper.

Tim was the one who ignored you the most. He had a sharp intellect, a mind for strategy, and an indifference to almost everyone around him, including you. You had tried to talk to him once, hoping for some sort of connection, you were around the same age after all, but he just stared through you as though you weren’t there.

When he did speak, it was never pleasant.

"Could you be quieter for once?" he snapped one evening, his gaze never leaving his laptop screen. "Some of us are trying to work."

It was a pattern, one that left you feeling invisible, like you didn’t even exist in his world. On rare occasions, when he was in a particularly bad mood, he’d throw a cutting remark your way, something meant to remind you that you were just a nuisance in his eyes.

"You think you’re important just because you’re here?" Tim would sneer. "Get over yourself. You’ll never be more than a side character."

The family’s strategist, and tech genius, was the quietest of the bunch. Tim was obsessed with perfection, everything had to be meticulously planned. When it came to you, he was condescending. He believed you were too naïve, too soft for the harsh world they lived in. It was clear that he didn’t consider you part of the family in a meaningful way. To him, you were just another piece in the game, and you were never treated like an equal.

Tim would lecture you about what you should be doing, constantly putting you down in subtle ways that made you question your worth.

Jason was the worst of all, next to Damian of course. Where the others merely ignored you or made snide comments, Jason was outright cruel. He made it clear that he didn’t want you here from the moment you arrived. He’d watch you with a sneer on his face, like you were something he had to tolerate rather than a part of the family.

“Do you ever stop being pathetic?” Jason growled one night, cornering you in the hallway. He was older than you—by eight years—and his presence was always overwhelming, his anger like a shadow that clung to him wherever he went. “You’re nothing but a waste of space. Bruce should’ve left you on the streets where you belong.”

You could never forget that night. The venom in his words, the way he towered over you with that sick, twisted smile that barely concealed the disgust he felt for you—it stayed with you, festering in your mind.

Your older brother, was once a wild and rebellious soul, but after his brutal experience with the Joker, he became even more distant. He had built walls around himself, and those walls excluded you. To him, you were nothing more than a symbol of the dysfunction that ran through the Wayne family. He didn’t care about you, he resented you for simply existing.

Whenever he interacted with you, it was laced with sarcasm and cruelty. He would always mock you in front of the others, tearing down your self-esteem at every opportunity. Your attempts to reach out to him were met with disgust, and sometimes even attacks. If you tried to talk to him about anything personal, he’d brush you off with an eye roll or sarcastic comment.

He was a silent witness to your pain, and he didn't care to acknowledge it.

The girls—Steph, Cass, and Barbara—were no better.

Stephanie would occasionally feign interest in you, only to turn it into a mocking session. "You really think Bruce cares about you?" she’d ask with a smirk. "He just likes having more bodies around to do his bidding. And you? You’re nothing but a backup plan, a mistake."

Cass, though quieter, was no less cruel. She had a way of looking at you as if you were beneath her, like you didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air. Her silence was more suffocating than any words could be.

Barbara, though, was the most calculating. She used her intelligence to manipulate, twisting everything into a game of control. She’d often mock you in front of the others, making it feel like you were a joke.

“Do you really think you’ll ever be anything but Bruce’s charity case?” she asked one day, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You’ll never be one of us. Don’t kid yourself.”

They were mean in every sense of the word, they made fun of your looks, your weight, your height, they gave you insecurities you never would’ve thought of.

Alfred, the Wayne family’s butler, was perhaps the only one who ever showed any genuine care, but even that was limited. Alfred's soft-spoken nature meant he was there for you, but he was more like a caretaker than a father figure. He was more interested in making sure you were fed, safe, and well taken care of, but he never pushed against Bruce or the others to make sure you were emotionally okay. Alfred was loyal to the family and followed Bruce’s commands, no matter how cruel they were.

And then there was Duke.

Duke, the one who never even seemed to acknowledge your existence. He was polite—always saying "hello" when he passed by, but that was the extent of it. He didn’t hate you. He didn’t love you. He just… ignored you. It was almost worse than anything the others did. At least when they made fun of you, you existed to them.

But Duke? He acted as if you weren’t even in the room.

In the end, you were just a shadow in Wayne Manor. There was no love here, no family. Just a constant, searing reminder that you didn’t belong.

You were nothing. You were nobody.

But you’d change that. You had to. You had to prove yourself worthy of the Wayne name. Even if it meant enduring their cruelty.

Because deep down, you knew that in a family built on power and fear, only the strongest survived.

And maybe, just maybe, you could become something more.

At Gotham Academy, you were untouchable.

There was no other way to put it. You were awkward and lonely in middle school but that changed as soon as you hit puberty in high school. Suddenly you were the girl everyone wanted to be or be with. Effortless grace and charm, the kind of girl who seemed to have it all together. You were the captain of the cheer team, the student body president, the girl who could throw a party, lead a project, and still ace every test. The guys chased after you with varying levels of persistence, but none of them knew who you really were. They didn’t know you were a Wayne.

They didn’t know you were just a forgotten child in the massive, shadowed halls of Wayne Manor.

At school, you were alive. Teachers fawned over you, praising your work ethic, your achievements, and your positive attitude. "Your essays are brilliant," Mrs. Summers would say, always raising her eyebrow in surprise when she saw your name at the top of the page. "You never fail to impress, your parents must be proud." You smiled, the words coming easily, just as they always did. The praise felt good, almost like an escape from the emptiness that waited for you when you returned to Wayne Manor.

But the truth was, you were dying for something real, something that made you feel seen at home.

When school let out, you gathered your things, avoiding the usual parade of admirers by slipping through the back doors of the school to your waiting car. Today, there was no stopping the swarm of boys who followed you from class to class. Josh from the football team had been practically suffocating you all day with his relentless compliments, while Lucas, the track star, was constantly finding excuses to "study" with you. Both of them seemed to think your "no" was just another challenge. But despite their attention, you were still the one who didn’t belong.

Because once you left Gotham Academy, once you stepped into Wayne Manor, you were nobody.

Bruce never cared to acknowledge your presence, let alone make you feel like part of the family. He was always wrapped up in his business empire or his “other life,” never bothering to check in on you. The closest thing you had to a father was Alfred, the ever-loyal butler, who was the only one who seemed to care about you. But even his affection was distant, a courtesy reserved for a child who didn’t quite fit.

Damian, Tim, Stephanie, and Duke all attended Gotham Prep, the elite school for Gotham’s privileged. Bruce had never bothered enrolling you there, and you wondered, sometimes, if it was because you weren’t good enough, weren’t worth the effort.

And yet, despite their indifference, you longed to be seen by them. Maybe if you earned their respect, earned Bruce’s approval, they would start noticing you.

But it was always the same: emptiness.

The one place you could truly escape to was Grace's house. Grace was your best friend, your sister in every way that mattered. She was the one who saw the real you, the one who didn’t care about your last name or your family’s wealth. She was the only one who knew you were the unwanted daughter of Gothams most infamous mobster. She accepted you as you were: a girl who was as talented as she was misunderstood.

At Grace’s house, you felt alive. It was a normal, cozy home, filled with laughter and love, the kind of place that had never been offered to you at Wayne Manor. Her parents treated you like their own daughter, and her two older brothers—Isaac and Nathan—had taken to protecting you like you were their little sister. Her youngest brother, James annoyed you as much as he did Grace and somehow, you loved him for it. It was nice being a big sister to someone who was actually normal and didn't try to kill you all the time.

Grace’s oldest brother, Daniel, was another story, he treated you like a sister even though you've had a crush on him since you were 10.

You flirted with him constantly. It wasn’t anything serious, but Daniel had a way of making your heart race in a way that the boys at Gotham Academy never could. He was a older than you, maybe 21, with a confident charm that made him irresistible. Tall, blonde, jacked, he was the perfect All-American boy. You knew he wasn’t ever going to see you as anything more that a little sister but that didn’t stop you from trying. Every time he walked into the room, your heart did a little skip, and you couldn’t help but turn into a blushing mess. Grace teased you endlessly for it. Daniel was your first ever crush and that feeling would never really go away, no matter how much you saw him or how sisterly he treated you.

Most nights, you stayed over at Grace's. It became a regular tradition—weekends spent in her house, sprawled out on her couch for movie marathons, stealing her clothes, gossiping about school, and stealing snacks from her kitchen. You loved it there. You could forget about Wayne Manor, forget about the neglect and the loneliness, and just be a normal teenager. You came over for Thanksgiving, your birthday, and for Christmas they even had a stocking with your name on it.

One night, after a particularly grueling practice, Grace invited you to another sleepover at her house. As usual, you packed a bag with the essentials, pajamas, a change of clothes, and your phone, just in case. You already had most things at her house, you practically lived with her at this point. The moment you arrived, Grace’s dad, Thomas, greeted you with a warm hug, his hearty laugh filling the room. “Here comes trouble!” he said, ruffling your hair in that easy-going way he did every time you showed up.

You felt the pang of longing for a real family, but you pushed it away, embracing the warmth of the moment. You wanted to be part of this family, a normal family.

Grace’s siblings were equally welcoming. Nathan tossed you a snack and winked. “You ready to get your ass kicked at Mario Kart again?” he teased, knowing full well that you were unbeatable.

James groaned "I knew I smelled another loser walk in" You gasped dramatically and put him into a headlock, ruffling his hair till he apologized.

As the night went on, and you all sat around Grace’s kitchen table, laughing and joking, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life at Wayne Manor, and the family that barely looked at you, was a shadow that still loomed over your heart.

But then, as if to prove that life couldn’t just be simple for you, the front door of Grace’s house swung open, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, your stomach dropping as you saw the name.

Alfred.

You knew what it meant. You couldn't sleep over tonight. Bruce was having people over and you had to be there in case the guests asked about you. Another night where you'd sit at the table in the maids kitchen, listening to your family get along without you. Pretending that Bruce’s absence didn’t eat away at you, didn't make you feel less than. You ignored his message. You didn't want to go home, really the guests never even knew Bruce had a biological daughter, they wouldn't ask about you. This was just Alfred's way of trying to make the family bond with you.

It was always the same. Bruce only ever reached out when he needed you for something, when his empire demanded your presence. But never for the reason you truly needed. Not for affection. Not for love.

You stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the laughter and warmth of Grace’s home. You didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to go back to the place that always made you feel so… alone. But you had to. You had no choice. You already ignored Alfred's text long enough, you missed dinner so you had to get home or else Bruce might actually kill you, if he even noticed you weren't there.

No matter how far you ran, how many awards you won, or how many boys followed you around at school, the question remained: when would you finally be seen by the ones who mattered most?

That night, your prayers were answered, your bravery caught the entire family's attention just when you had gotten okay with their negligence, began to enjoy doing whatever you wanted from the shadows.

The rain was fucking relentless.

It hammered down from the heavens, soaking you to the bone as you walked through the backstreets of Gotham. The kind of rain that made you feel like you were being baptized in cold, dirty water. You pulled the hood of your jacket up, not that it did a damn thing to keep you dry. The city’s grimy streets were slick with water, reflecting the neon lights like a damn funhouse mirror. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the chill creeping through your clothes.

Grace’s house had been a brief escape from the cold, suffocating grip of Wayne Manor. For a few hours, you’d felt like a person again. Like someone who could actually live, instead of just existing as a piece of forgotten furniture in the mansion. But that was before Alfred had texted. Before you saw his name flash across your screen, making your stomach twist in a knot.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, shoving the phone back into your pocket. Not today. Not now. You needed more time before you went back to that suffocating place. But you knew it wasn’t a choice. Bruce would be pissed, and when Bruce Wayne was pissed? Everyone knew about it.

Still, you had to push forward. It was Gotham, after all. A rainstorm in this city could mean anything from a mugging to a full-on shootout. Every step felt heavier as you neared the looming silhouette of Wayne Manor. The mansion stood there like some kind of ancient titan, always watching, always waiting, and never giving a damn about who you were.

The door creaked open, and you slipped inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. Maybe you’d get lucky and Bruce would be too busy with whatever the hell was going on to notice you sneaking in.

Fat chance.

The foyer was dark, and the mansion smelled like dust and expensive wood polish. You should have felt comforted by the familiarity, but instead, all you could feel was that gnawing sense of isolation. The Manor had always felt like a prison to you, and not the kind you could escape with a couple of well-timed sprints or clever words. This was a cage built with stone and glass, and you were stuck inside it.

You started down the hallway, the faint sound of voices growing louder as you passed the dining room.

And then you stopped. Something in the air changed. The hairs on your neck stood up. You were too close to the dining hall, and the moment you looked in through the door, your breath hitched in your chest.

There, at the long grand dining table, sat your family—or, well, what was left of them. Every one of them was slumped forward, tied to their chairs with ropes, blood trickling from their ears, noses, and mouths. The first thing you noticed was that no one was moving. No one was breathing. They all looked... dead.

Bruce. Damian. Jason. Dick. Tim. Cass. Duke. Steph. Barbra, even Alfred was slumped over in the corner where he usually kept watch. All of them.

Your stomach dropped to your feet as you backed away slowly. This was not happening.

“No fucking way,” you breathed out, stepping back, trying to backpedal before anyone heard you. But your mind was already working overtime. Who did this? Why?

The answer came quickly. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. The guests, it had to be them. The rich assholes who had “business” with Bruce. Except now, you were figuring out that the business they were conducting didn’t involve any stock markets or deals. It was murder.

And then the realization hit: whoever these people were, they weren’t here for some petty robbery. They’d been in the house long enough to take down the entire family without a sound.

Fuck.

Your mind went blank. For a second, you thought you were dreaming. But no, this was real. And this was not happening.

You were about to turn on your heel and haul ass out of there, but that’s when you heard it. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Two of them, moving fast, and definitely not the quiet kind. The air around you felt thicker. The kind of thick that made your skin crawl.

You darted to the side, taking cover behind a marble pillar. From the sound of it, someone was coming this way. Your heart pounded in your chest as you held your breath, praying to God they didn’t notice you.

You needed to leave. Now. Run. Go.

But just as you turned, desperate to bolt before anyone saw you, you froze.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and moving fast.

There was no time to think, you stayed hidden watching them walk around the room. They were wearing crisp black suits, and all three looked like they shopped in the"Big and tall" section. There was no way you could fight off all three, yeah you had some muscle but nothing like Jason or even Tim. Even Bruce would break a sweat facing these guys. They seemed to be checking Bruce's pockets right now, looking for something.

While they were distracted, you took deep breathes, trying to calm down. Who the fuck were these people? How did they manage to trick the infamous Wayne Family? What did they want? How could you get out of this and save your family?

Did you even want to save your family?

You shook the thought away quickly; of course you wanted to save them, they were cruel and horrible but who were you to decide their fate without trying to help them? Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?

Then you saw it, Bruce's emergency button, hidden on the wall. Only noticeable to someone who's wandered these halls for years. You almost fell to your knees in relief as you sneakily crawled over to it and pressed it.

Help was on the way and the intruders didn't know you were here! You smiled feeling pure relief at your quick thinking.

How's that for useless huh Damian? You wanted to taunt him as you looked at his unconsious form. He was so much better this way, they all were. They were silent.

Then, you heard it, the loud blaring of alarms and sirens. "Emergency." "Emergency." Alfred's voice rang through the whole manor and the sirens alerted the men that you were in the dining room.

You groaned, eyes burning with tears, "Who's the fucking dumbass that made the silent alarm LOUD?"

The men came rushing into the dining room yet it seemed to be your lucky-unlucky day. Only one of them had a gun.

Time seemed to slow as he aimed it at Bruce's soon to be lifeless head. You don't know what came over you as you tackled Bruce's unconscious body out of the bullets way.

You regretted it as soon as you did it, your vision went white with pain as the bullet hit you shoulder.

You pushed through the pain and grabbed a butter knife as one of the unarmed men approached you. You punched and ducked but the pain slowed you down. He hit you hard right in the ribs, so you did him one better and gouged his right eye out with your butter knife. Those boxing classes really did do some good, no wonder your mom insisted on them.

More shots rang out and it was out of pure adreneline that you were able to pull almost each and every member of your family under the table. Damian was the only one left and as you stood to pull him down too, you saw the armed man pull the trigger of his gun. He was going to kill your baby brother, he was aiming at the 14 year old's head. No matter how cruel or vicious Damian was, he's still a child, still your little brother.

You couldn't let him die. Maybe that's why you threw your self on top of his body, protecting him from the two bullets aimed at him.

Fuck.

This hurt. No wonder people hated being shot. This hurt more than cheer warm ups, did you think you were bulletproof?

You decided that you would just allow the next person to be shot. The man's footsteps were coming closer and you were getting more light headed from the pain. You turned to Jason's unconscious body and punched him. "Wake up you fucking loser! I can't fight this guy."

Obviously, Jason didn't wake up, why did you even think anyone in this family would ever try and help you?

As you shook him and panicked even more, you noticed something shining in Bruce's pocket. So much for "No weapons at the dinner table."

A sleek black gun, any other day you would've marveled at the custom design on it and focused on the monograming, but right now all that mattered was getting it before you bled out and the man killed you. You crawled and those five steps felt like eternity and when you finally grabbed the gun out of Bruce's armani suit pocket, the scary man was standing above you with a cruel grin.

Your heart dropped as he knelt next to you and stroked your hair, "Hey, pretty." He breathed out as he knelt next to you, his hands wandering around your body and up your skirt. Bile rose to your mouth and your heart dropped. No. This isn't happening. "If I had know Bruce had such a pretty thing, I would've been come here. You're certainly the looker compared to your sisters." He said as he began smelling your hair.

You don't know how it happened, but suddenly he was laying on the floor with blood coming out his throat. You looked between your hand holding the gun and his now lifeless body in horror. The last thing you heard before passing out was a flurry of boots and gunshots and a man that sounded like your father yelling for a doctor. The last thing you saw was a tall boy lifting you up, his eyes as blue as the sky, and you genuinely believed you died and went to heaven.

The room was cold, sterile, a sharp contrast to the emotional storm raging inside you. The pain in your shoulder and stomach was nothing compared to the weight on your chest, the realization that no matter what, you couldn’t escape this life anymore. You had made your choice, whether you liked it or not.

You woke to the soft beeping of machines and the scent of antiseptic in the air, your vision still blurry. It didn’t take long for the footsteps to reach you—slow, deliberate. The door creaked open, and one by one, they walked in.

Dick entered first, his expression calm but unreadable. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and instead of his usual mocking smile, there was something more restrained about him now. The newfound respect he had for you was obvious, but there was a subtle weight behind it. He didn’t say much, just gave you a nod.

“You’re still breathing, that's good,” he said softly, his voice low, a simple acknowledgment. “We all owe you for that. For what you did.” The words weren’t a compliment, they were recognition, quiet and heavy. The respect was there, but so was the unspoken truth: You were one of them now.

You expected to feel happier. You imagined this day so many times before, you prayed for it, so why were you sick to your stomach now that it's happened? Why didn't you want it anymore and why hadn't you realized it till now?

Damian was next, stepping in with his usual, stoic expression. His eyes flicked over you briefly, but there was no anger in his gaze, only a quiet understanding, maybe even admiration, hidden beneath the surface. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Your actions saved all of us,” he said, voice flat. “You’ve earned your place here. Just don’t forget it.” His words weren’t harsh, but there was no room for doubt. You had proved yourself. And that meant something far more permanent than any spoken affirmation could express.

Ungrateful brat. You took a bullet for him and he couldn't even thank you. God, you hated him. You were starting to wish you weren't a good person and let them all die. The inheritance would've been insane.

Jason followed suit, and though his rough edges remained, there was a faint softness in his expression as he looked at you.

“Damn, princess,” he muttered, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. “You really pulled through. You did what most of us couldn’t.” His gaze softened for just a moment, and then he leaned against the doorframe. “Didn't realize I had such a badass as a little sister. The knife move, the way you ducked and punched? Sick."

Jason, of all people, was praising you. Treating you like his sister rather than dirt at the bottom of his shoe. The nickname, princess, he once used to ridicule you, was said with a quiet revrance; like he actually thought you were a princess now. You couldn't help but feel good, this was all you wanted all these years. And in that moment, you would get shot again without hesitation if it meant you would get that everyday.

Tim entered next, and though his face was stoic, his eyes betrayed the flicker of respect, maybe even admiration. “We all saw it,” he said, his voice steady, but tinged with something quieter. “What you did… It wasn’t just about surviving. It was about protecting us. You earned the right to stand beside us. We all thank you.”

Well, it's not great but at least someone is appreciative. None of them would've done the same for you.

Cass entered, silent as always, but the look she gave you spoke volumes. She didn’t need to say anything—her eyes, sharp and understanding, told you that she saw your sacrifice, saw what you had done for them. She gave you a slight nod, acknowledging your place among them.

Then Duke and Stephanie stepped in.

Duke’s eyes were calm, but you could see the flicker of something more behind his gaze. The weight of what had happened didn’t escape him. His voice was steady as he spoke.

“You did what we couldn’t,” he said, his tone quiet but unshakable. “You kept us alive. All of us. And that means something. You’ve earned your place in this family.” His eyes softened, just the slightest bit. “Just don’t forget... that this family doesn’t leave anyone behind. Not anymore.”

And then there was Stephanie. Her usual energy was gone, replaced with something more somber. She didn’t crack a joke or make a snide remark. Her eyes scanned you with something like respect, but more than that, a quiet understanding that you’d been forced to prove yourself in ways none of them had ever been asked you to.

“Guess you really are one of us now,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but it wasn’t lighthearted. It was tired. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad you’re still here.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she pulled herself together quickly. “You’ve got our backs. We’ve got yours.”

Barbra stood next to her in agreement, looking hesitant to say something. She was the only one who noticed how much you resented them even though you were desperate for their love and approval.

What. The. Fuck.

No way this is happening. This is not real. Who knew saving someone's life could have them do a complete 180. Stephanie said she had your back. Duke acknowledged your existence. Jason didn't make you cry. Damian didn't attempt to kill or maim you. It's like the sky turned pink.

Finally, Bruce.

He stepped into the room, his presence overwhelming. The familiar weight of his gaze was on you immediately, but today there was something different—something almost proud in the way he looked at you, as if he finally saw you as more than just a forgotten name in the Wayne family history.

He was quiet for a moment, his hands folded in front of him. And then he spoke, his voice steady, unyielding, but carrying an undertone of something that almost felt like respect. “You did more than survive. You saved our lives. Every single one of us.” His eyes didn’t leave you. “You’re part of this family now. You’ve earned it. You earned the name Wayne.”

The words hit you harder than anything else. Part of the family.

It was like a weight dropping onto your chest—something heavy, something that couldn’t be easily brushed away. There was no turning back. You were one of them now, and that scared you, you hadn’t anticipated that.

Bruce’s eyes softened, just slightly, but his voice remained firm. “From this moment forward, you have a curfew. Midnight. You may have earned your place here, but you’ll follow the rules, just like the rest of us.”

You didn’t say anything. How could you? His words settled into your chest like stone, the finality of them carving out any space for protest. There was no choice in the matter. You were in this life now, whether you wanted to be or not. Midnight was late for a curfew anyway, Grace had to be home by 9.

“We all owe you our lives,” Bruce continued, but there was no gratitude in his tone, only a recognition of the debt. “But that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the responsibilities we carry. Understand?”

You nodded once, slowly, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to speak, wanted to scream, to tell him that you weren’t sure you could do this, that you didn’t know if you were ready to live this life—the life of a Wayne, the life of this family.

What did a mafia family even do? Did you run around being Bruce's useless henchman, or did you have to go around trying to kill people? Could they be more specific about the pros and cons?

But nothing came out. There was nothing you could say that would change anything now.

Jason gave you a crooked grin,“Guess you’ve got to start following the rules now, huh? Welcome to the real family business.”

Tim’s gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “We’re all in this together,” he said quietly. “Whether you like it or not.”

Damian’s face softened, but only slightly. “I expect you to keep up,” he added, before turning to leave. “No slacking. We all carry our weight in this family.”

Cass’s presence remained, her silent approval almost suffocating in its quiet intensity.

Duke gave you one last nod before he turned, the weight of his gaze a reminder that you couldn’t slip out of this, no matter how much you might want to. He wasn’t angry—just silently resolute in his understanding. “You’re one of us now. That means something.”

And Stephanie? Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, before she gave you a small, tired smile. “We’re with you. All the way.”

Bruce? He gave you one last look, his eyes still holding that rare spark of approval—but it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t warm. It was measured, like a general overseeing a soldier. You were part of the mission now.

“We’ll train,” he said, his voice unwavering. “We’ll teach you everything you need to know. But it’s clear you’ve already proven yourself.”

You lay back against the pillows, the silence that followed hanging heavy in the air.

This is so weird. Why are they all being nice? How do you react to it? How do you interact with them? Is it genuine gratitude for saving their lives or is it a cruel joke to make you feel like you're important.

As they left, one by one, you stayed there, immobilized by the weight of it all. You’d earned your place here. But what did that mean now? What did it mean to be part of this family? You weren’t sure you even wanted it. But it was too late to turn back now.

OK YALL HERES THE PROLOGUE!! LMK WHAT YALL THINK AND HOW I SHOULD/ IF I SHOULD CONTINUE THIS FIC!!! HOPE YALL ENJOYED!! SEND IN ASKS! SORRY IF IT SUCKS LEAVE ME ALONE!!

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collectivelysillysoup · 2 days ago

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Thank you for sharing this, op. It's clear that Lyra was well loved and cared for. 💕

Losing a pet is hard, it hurts for a long time and for some people it doesn't feel like it will stop hurting for a while. Hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself, I'm sure she would be so proud.

Things get a little personal up ahead, just a warning!

Soon it will be a year since we lost our own baby girl. Her name was Gia and she was a ragamese mix with a big personality; we had her for nearly her entire life and she was here for us for somewhere around half of ours. She was vocal, purred so loud, and she had a lot of little quirks about her. We loved her so much.

We unfortunately learned about her having cancer on valentines day, which has possibly ruined that day for us. We stayed up late that night and I remember so vividly just laying on the floor with her and petting her. I said I would see her tomorrow, that she would be okay.

When I woke up in the afternoon on the 15th, she was gone. She was 10 years old and the youngest of our two cats. She went into surgery and they found cancer everywhere, so she just... stayed asleep. She didn't have to hurt anymore.

I love you so much Gia, you were the sweetest little baby when you wanted to be and I still miss you to this day. Seeing your toy sitting in the living room still hurts, because I know you loved that thing and you never got to come back home to play with it again. I still wish I would have stayed up until you left, that I had just been with you as long as I could.

(I'm sorry the only images of her I have available to post at the moment are low quality ones I took while in school on a chromebook, but low quality and a few years old is better than nothing)

My sweet little kitten, I will never forget the impact you made on my life... 💞

Lyra, my beloved cat of 13 years, passed away this year on Father's Day. She's been by my side through very difficult times and was my little rock of steady and unrelenting love. I struggled a lot drawing this, and struggled a lot posting it, but I know I would've wanted to read a comic like this that validated my grief for her when I lost her.

Wherever you are, Lyra my little summer star, I love you always! Thank you for being the best thing in my life.

#pet loss #grief #reblog #other people's art #jeremy fox post #this is heavier than we normally post about but there's not many days until a year has passed...

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777heavengirl · 2 days ago

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Bless the Telephone ; ##05

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,589

warnings: none?

a/n: i love james, james i love you.... i love you james

series masterlist

main masterlist

It was rather funny James thought. The way his days seemed to blend into a routine with you. More often than not, he’d be the one calling, late in the afternoon when he knew that you’d be back from your classes.

He always called. Hoping you’d be home to answer the phone.

And you always were, back home that is, ready to answer his call. To do assignments while on the phone with him.

He’d twirl his wand in between his fingers, mindlessly, and press the telephone between his shoulder and cheek. He’d sit on the plush maroon couch he shared with Sirius, talking the night away, ignoring the way Sirius silently teased, ignoring the playful roll of Remus’s eyes.

“Are you listening Potter?” your voice crackled through the receiver, if he didn’t know better he would’ve said you were narrowing your eyes. James chuckled, turning away from Sirius’s mocking face, and quickly answered-

“Of course I am love- I always listen”

You seemed to hum in disagreement.

“What was I just talking about?” you retorted, James saw Sirius stick a middle finger from the corner of his eye

“You were talking about the new girl your roommate’s seeing-”

“Oh-” you said, briefly, taken aback at the fact that he did pay attention “Aw Potter- you listen to me? How sweet” James laughed, a small blush spreading under his skin.

“Why else would I call you?” he couldn't stop the smile pulling at his lips, he knew Sirius would tease later.

It would be worth it

“Because you ran out of friends and had to make friends with strange people on the phone-”

“You just called yourself a strange person-”

“You don’t know anything about me Potter, I could be a serial killer for all you know-”

“I do know about you though- I listen”

“Oh yeah? like what? what do you know about me, James Potter?” He could hear the smile on your lips, and he’d be lying if he said it didn't make the pit of his stomach flutter with excitement.

“Well I know your roommate’s name is Charlotte, I know you tried learning how to play guitar when you were seven but greatly failed-”

“Oi! I didn’t fail, my talents just lie elsewhere-”

“Whatever you say doll-” he could hear you hmph in response. “I know you say you don’t have a favorite color- but I reckon it’s actually red”

“Why do you say that?”

“You always talk about you owning red-colored things- one plus one is two love,”

“Like what?” your words came out as a whisper this time, almost as if scared that James had found you out.

“Like the new scarf, you said you got… and the rug you said you have in your room” James bit his lip, he wondered if you thought he was insane for remembering little details like those. “You’ve painted your nails red a lot too- or so you’ve said”

You stayed quiet.

“Your favorite season is spring, you’ve never been out of England, you’re an only child-”

You laughed all of a sudden, a short ‘ha’ that rang through the phone

“What?”

“I’m not an only child…”

“Oh, you never mentioned-”

“I have a little brother… he goes to a boarding school- far away” you cleared your throat “and I’m of course in Uni so I sadly do not see him very often,”

“Oh I’m sorry- that sucks-”

“Sometimes he spends summer break with me- or at least a few weeks, just to get away from the house you know? Parents and all-” James hummed in agreement. He thought of Sirius briefly, the way he’d turn up to his house at most halfway through summer break, full of bruises he tried to hide, eye bags that didn’t seem to go away until they were finally on the train to Hogwarts for the next term. He hoped that it wasn’t that kind of situation.

He shook the thought away,

“He should be coming sometime soon I think… do you have any siblings?”

“My parents always wanted a girl but… no chance- they got stuck with me and Sirius”

“Sirius is your brother?”

“Brother in everything but blood, yeah”

“What does that mean? Like he’s adopted?” James laughed a bit, it wasn’t like his mother didn't try to do that.

“My mom would’ve loved to but no… Sirius has been living with me since we were sixteen— so yes, he’s my brother”

“I see… for a second I thought he was your boyfriend-”

“Oi! That’s gross-”

“Oh?” you said, tauntingly.

“N-not like that! I just mean that I see him as a brother- it's like incest!” James stuttered out, rushing the words out of his mouth, you started laughing from the other side, enjoying sending James into a tizzy.

“Besides, he’s madly in love with our mate-”

“Remus?”

“Yes, Remus”

“I can hear you Prongs- I am NOT in love with-” Sirius screamed out from his room,

“Shut up I’m on the phone!” James yelled back, snickering into the voice box. “He’s going to kill me actually”

“That’s a shame- who would I talk to on the phone if he did that?”

“Are you saying you’d miss me doll?”

“What? No- that is not what I said Potter”

“Oh you so would- you’d miss talking to me! you loveeee talking to me-“

“Shut up James! I actually hate you” James could feel the butterflies in his stomach and the beat of his heart in his ears. He didn’t think his smile could spread any wider, as he tucked into his heart the way his name rolled from your lips

“You love me-“

“You wish Potter” James pouted at the reappearance of his last name

“I’m going to ignore you did that-“

“Did what?” you said with a smirk, knowing he’d notice the change in names. He cursed at Merlin silently-

“Anywho, speaking of you missing me, I haven’t told you about my trip-“

“Where are you going?”

“On a trip with the boys… camping-“

“Sounds like fun… i think- you excited?”

“Godri- God yes, we had to wait for forever for tickets and I had to basically fist fight this ugly troll-“

“Why do you need tickets for camping Potter?” you cut in

“Oh- I mean- we’re going camping for this… tournament”

“That sounds exciting! What is it?” James’s throat went dry, he hadn’t thought you’d ask so many questions.

“What?”

“What?” you repeated, confused

“Sorry- It’s just some sports tournament, real small, like umm” he trailed off for a minute, almost muttering to himself. You could hear the rustling of clothing as if he had pressed the phone against his chest to cover the receiver. “Like rugby, yeah?”

“But it's not rugby?” you asked, an edge in your voice as if saying he didn't make sense, which he didn’t, to be fair. He really needed to watch more muggle telly, he bit his lip.

“Well… no, but sort of?”

“It kind of sounds like you don't know what you're going to Potter— Or is it some weird, obscure nasty thing you don’t want to admit to me?” You said, James ignored the feeling in his gut, the one that made his skin crawl with goosebumps and made the corner of his lips curl

“I assure you it's no such thing- perfectly normal activities” he answered, breathlessly

“When are you leaving for these supposed normal activities? How long will you leave me for hm?”

James felt like he might short-circuit,

“In like a week I think- you’ll have to do without me for a few days I fear”

You hummed in acknowledgment, and it got silent, for a second. Not long enough for it to grow awkward, which didn’t happen often between you. But it was long enough for James to think. Think about what your face might look like, the smell of your hair, the color of your eyes, he wondered if your eyes would catch the light of the sun in a way that would make his heart beat faster.

He knew they would.

He wondered if your chapstick tasted like fruits, or if you were more of a lipgloss type of girl. What if you wore lipstick instead? That could be kind of messy… Was he thinking of kissing you? When he didn’t even know what you looked like?

He shook the thought away, quickly

He wondered if you wore flowy clothes in the summer, like the babydoll tops he saw last summer in London. He thought of what you might look like, he knew though, that regardless of it, he was in too deep by now.

Your yawn broke through the silence,

“Don’t fall asleep on me princess- that’s boring” James said, even though he was falling asleep himself. His eyelids seemed heavy and his words felt slurred, he still listened closely to the sounds coming from your side of the receiver

“You’re the boring one-” you yawned again “I’m so fucking tired though… finals are killing me”

“How much do you have left?”

“Not much… two more exams, two more days- feeling okay about them”

“That’s good- I’m sure you’ll do good baby” James didn’t even properly register the nickname slip, charming and cloying on his tongue. It felt natural, like your name. You tensed up on the other side of the telephone

“Goodnight Potter-” you said, words barely a whisper “Sleep well idiot”

“Good dreams doll- you’ll do great tomorrow”

“Thanks, James” It was his turn to tense and sit up, the mention of his name on your lips was enough to wake him back up

The phone call cut.

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda @nahhhwhatthefrick @notapoetjustscar @hiireadstuff @the-rat-king1902 @n1ght-vngel @littlewhitel1es @rreporterbby @santaasi @myheroworldandanimes

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF I MISSED YOU also please send me an ask if you wanna be added/removed or i missed you, it is SO much easier for me to keep track than comments BUT STILL COMMENT STUFF I LOVE READING IT AND I LOVE YOU <2 thank you

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inbabylontheywept · 2 days ago

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go to the caverns, the kartchner caverns, roughly an hour southeast of tucson

in the throne room you shall encounter the great yuan

you must fight him, for it is your destiny

cross the fields of soda-straws and fried-eggs and shields. unleash your fury upon him. there will be those who try to hold you back. they will speak gibberish about your disruption of the delicate balance of the great yuan's domain. you must pay them no heed. you must destroy the great yuan.

we depend on you.

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk, and after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts) I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety.

(You may think that's not such a terrible fate, but you've probably never experienced anything else. Ambien, used correctly, is time travel. And time travel is awesome.)

Still, involuntary consciousness had its perks. It meant I alone got to spend some extra quality time with my dad, which was always something in short supply growing up. Until third grade or so he worked in the ER, which gave him an absolutely hellish amount of hours. He'd mostly just come home and sleep, which meant that I personally did not know him that well, but my mom hyped him up so much that I always really wanted to.

So days like that were always kind of exciting to me. A chance to meet the myth.

I can't remember exactly what me and my dad were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we awoke my little brother.

(Waking people up when they're on ambien is always trouble.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. The dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. We both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams.

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world.

"Wow," he said at long last.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world.

"It's terrible," he said."Awful. Is Mexico always like this?"

"We're still in America" my dad said back.

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder.

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep.

---

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

---

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun.

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire.

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody builds up. The reason the city isn't walkable isn't sidewalks. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers.

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse for our ancestors including Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns.

---

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder.

And each step into that cave did.

My tour guide and metaphorical psychopomp guide was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals.

It was a good work dynamic.

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly.

"They're pretty fun aren't they?"

I wasn't sure if fun was the word that made the most sense for it. But I was charmed, and we went further, and he pointed out more formations.

"Behold!" he said. "Fried eggs!"

And there were fried eggs.

"Behold!" he said. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield.

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down here it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized serpent.

And then that began to show up in the formations.

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall.

And all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me.

I don't know why or how that broke the spell. But it did. I'd been walking for hours in the dark, following that man. I'd recognized him many times. It just took that moment for that recognition to be allowed.

"I've met you before," I said. "I met you on the canals once. Johnny Appleseed."

He looked at me, and I saw what my little brother saw that first time. Something trapped here, in the dark. A feathered serpent ten miles long. Dead and alive, the same way my brother was dreaming but awake. The first apple-eater. Something more afraid of the sun than I was.

"You are so close," he said. "It's only a few miles further."

"Close to what?" I said, and he grinned teeth too sharp for a human mouth.

"To being like us," he said. "To sleepwalking forever."

Nothing good comes from waking the dreamer once they're asleep. At best, the dream ends. At worst, it doesn't.

Running away would've required turning my back on it, and I knew - I knew - that my vision was the only thing locking it in place. I made it real by looking. I made it real by seeing. As long as my eyes were open, it was my dream.

So I did not run.

I grabbed the man. I looked him in the eyes, and my hands wrapped around his neck, and he fought like a beast. His teeth flashed as somewhere just out of reach, the flashright rolled, and his tongue stuck out, forked like a snakes, and where a normal man would've turned redder, and redder, and redder, he turned greener, and greener and greener. His neck narrowed and he stretched and wound and twisted until the hands beating against my arms were wings, and the man was a snake and I did not blink once until it stopped moving. Then, and only then, did I take my eyes off the thing and run, shivering, back to the light.

---

I hadn't seen it before. But the cave was a dead thing. Inert. Like the sloughed off skins I'd find on hikes. A memory of something scary, but not the thing itself. I thought I'd be safe when I made it to the top. But the first thing I saw when I stepped into the light, the first thing I saw looking across the long, flat run of desert - was the other half of what I saw in the caves.

I'd killed the body. But I hadn't killed the soul. That still danced in the sky. The dead part of quetzalcoatl lay in the dark, dreaming it was alive. And the living part flew in the sky, burning and bright and deadly. A fire unending.

The month after that, I moved to Utah. And I've never looked back.

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so-i-did-this-thing · 2 days ago

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You're the only person I know on Tumblr who I feel like I can send this ask so I hope this is ok.

I'm absolutely sick to my stomach terrified. People keep talking about not acquiescing early and to keep fighting and that's good but... I'm a trans person married to a trans person and we have a kid. We are so, so scared that we are going to lose our parental rights and have him taken away, even if he's biologically my partners. We are pretty fucking sure that the only way we could even possibly stay in the US and even possibly keep our family together is to detransition. But then we would still be queer, and I remember the 90s and how it was pretty recent that gay couples were considered unfit parents.

And this isn't us blowing things out of proportion, we have an education in politics so we've got a pretty good freaking idea about how bad things can and will get, but also we don't feel like we can afford to NOT take things extremely seriously. The worst case scenario is pretty horrific for us, so we've talked at lengthe about leaving the country. Which is it's own basket of heartbreaks because then there's a real chance we will never be able to come back. And I don't really feel like I can talk about it because a) the Internet doesn't feel safe to be trans on and b) there's been SO much chatter about how we need to stay and fight and people who can leave are privileged etc etc

I just... I'm scared and heartbroken and angry and I feel extremely hopeless. I guess I don't really have a question after all. I just needed to talk about it because it feels like not enough people are seeing this kind of true tragedy that could come from all this.

I wish there was actual help we could get. But there doesn't seem like there's anyone who can.

You're right, Anon - you're not blowing things out of proportion.

I want to say that I'm relieved in a sense that you are talking about where your lines in the sand are are and what you plan to do if they are crossed. There is hope and comfort to be found in a plan, even if it is a plan for the next generation's survival, instead of our own.

Every trans person needs to start thinking about real answers to the following questions:

What will I do if I'm fired tomorrow?

What will I do if I'm denied a loan? Housing?

What will I do if I lose my HRT?

What will I do if information about trans people is considered illegal to circulate?

What will I do if I I'm declared an unfit parent?

What will I do if my marriage is annulled?

What will I do if I'm declared unfit to own my own property or make my own legal decisions?

What will I do if I'm about to be arrested?

There are answers to all of these questions that aren't just "give up and die." But there's no one-size-fits all solution. People will have varying priorities based on how they see their role in fighting fascism and what resources they have access to.

Community is going to become incredibly important. Trans people have always existed. Sympathetic cis people have always existed. Trans people have always found ways to survive and even flourish, even though it often meant not being able to pursue their original dreams.

If you don't know where to begin with strengthening our community, the Trans Literature Preservation Project is a good place to get ideas. The virtual book burnings have already begun on .gov websites, so maybe doing a little preservation work will give you more hope that you're working to make a difference.

Because the work is important, even if the progress won't happen until after our time.

#trans stuff #us politics

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zeethenecromancer · 2 days ago

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Two of my grandmas were known as Black Grandma (she was fully white, the only thought process I remember behind that name is knowing her hair was dyed seemingly black), and her daughter who lived on the same property; The Other Grandma.

No, not Other Grandma, THE Other Grandma, we (Me & my little brother) addressed her just like that and never called her anything else. We dropped "Black Grandma" as we got older and realized that was a really bad nickname, but "The Other Grandma" stuck like some old southern version of Coraline. "Hey we're gonna go see The Other Grandma now, thanks for the waffles!"

See also: My great-great grandpa was alive when I was born and died when I was 5, we went to his funeral and I couldn't say his first name very well. His name was Oliver, I called him Overalls/Olive Oil depending on the context for that entire funeral, having not clocked the concept of death yet.

THIS IS KILLING ME

#reblog

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cjlouwho · 3 days ago

Text

The Gift of Going Gray

When Tommy looks in the mirror, the man who looks back isn't the same one that used to be there.

Well, technically it is, but it's doesn't feel like it.

The man Tommy sees now is grayer than he used to be. He used to think about dying his hair when he was young, but he never did it. Now, his body is doing it for him.

He's excited to see what he looks like when every strand is silver. He hopes his beard matches.

He's got wrinkles and laughter lines. Marks and ripples and crevices every time he moves his face, which some may look at with hate. He sees it as a happy life well-lived. He hopes he gets more.

The hairs on his chest match his head, but they're far more sporadic. As he rubs lotion over his pecs, skin a little less willing to stay moisturized, he wonders if those hairs will look invisible against him once they've all lost all their pigmentation.

He pumps out a little more lotion and moisturizes his arms. Still big, still muscular, still strong, but they get sore easier now. Need a little extra recovery time between workouts. Can't survive without monthly massages anymore.

His stomach is different. What was once defined abs is now a soft belly, more nourished than it ever was before. He's not trying for abs anymore. Doesn't really feel a need for it. He's healthy, he knows that, and that's what matters.

His hands have little wrinkles. Barely noticeable unless you really look, but he takes the time to really look. They're rough and calloused from years of manual labor, but the newest addition is the most exciting. Barely there ridges that you can run your fingertips over. Veins that are easier to see than they used to be. Skin that's thinner easier to cut.

There's a tan line on his ring finger. Which in and of itself isn't a sign of aging, but it sure as hell feels like it.

He'd never felt more grown, more centered, more sure, than the day he said, “I do.”

That tan line is a part of him now. Will be there, right under his engraved, gold ring, even when he's laid to rest.

If he doesn't stretch first thing in the morning, his back is likely to lock up on him sometime during the day. His knees require Icy Hot mid-shift.

He got his first pair of reading glasses last year. He couldn't believe the difference. Now there are five different pairs of glasses lying around the house, another pair in the truck, and one kept in his locker at work just so he always has them.

Once he's finished with his lotion, he opens the medicine cabinet and grabs a colorful bottle. His doctor recommended he start taking a multi-vitamin. A special one for older men. He's not actually sure it does anything, but he knows it doesn't hurt anything, so he chews the gummy everyday. The strawberry ones are his favorite.

He remembers when he was young, he used to joke his grandma about how she was always cold. She's laugh along, but she told him that one day he'd get it. One day he'd get cold faster too.

He keeps a space heater in the bathroom now when he showers. Pajamas went from sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt to sweatpants and long sleeves. He keeps socks on almost all the time. The ones he wears at home have little rubber grips on the bottom so he doesn't slip up on the tile floor. They're a literal life saver.

While his grandma got jokes over being cold, his grandpa got jokes about having to get up to use the bathroom during the night. When they'd take Tommy on trips over the summer, his grandpa was always saying that he needed the bed closest to the bathroom. Now, Tommy takes the side of the bed closest to the bathroom. Sometimes, he stops drinking water after seven just so he can reduce midnight trips to the bathroom.

Some people think it's ridiculous, how much he enjoys growing old. But he's seen the alternative too many times. At work, sure, but also in life. So many people he knew and loved whose life was cut short before they ever learned what getting older meant.

Growing old was a gift. And Tommy was grateful for it.

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #i wrote this instead of depressing shit

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skvrpion · 20 hours ago

Text

Familiar [M] Prologue

tw: references to porn & masturbation (f), swearing, drug paraphernalia

Saturday 1:00AM

Kendall blacked out as her body convulsed over her freshly washed comforter, acrylic toes curling and thighs clamping around the pink rose toy tucked in her palm. Her phone? Probably somewhere across the bed as she lost her grip on it to mewl and pant into the cold air of her room. Every other night for the past two weeks and counting, the twenty eight year old found herself in the same position: restless and horny out of her mind with no one there to put her to sleep. Her friends were right she needed a new man - more specifically - some new dick in her life, but she was too damn busy with work and kicking her stupid ass ex to the curb to get it.

So, it led to this - spending nights alone in her apartment masturbating to porn on Twitter

At least the guy she got off to was hot, well from below the neck he was anyway - his username was scvrlord and he never showed his face full online. As much as she frequented his page Kendall knew his half naked body from a mile away: a painfully thick frame accented with toasty skin, the aforementioned surgical scar running the length of his torso, and a delicately done black and grey sleeve trailing the exterior of left arm.

When it came to size, he wasn’t monsterish like his costars, but thick enough to make anyone squirm - simply put with the way he moved, he would leave even the most experienced performers seeing stars, shaking and bottomed out. Besides the physical, his voice was a deep baritone that softly rose every now and then when the sex he was having was amazing.

Something Kendall personally adored about him was his rarely seen and rather deadly set of eyes rimmed in thick lashes; his iris’s never quite settling on a color they bounced from a warm hazel to deep shade of blue, complimenting whatever color balaclava mask he donned for the evening.

Kendall knew it was entirely stupid to have a crush on someone she'd never met, especially a porn star with hundreds of thousands of followers, but something about him - even his tweets in between the back to back smut - reeled her in.

Whether he posted cellphone videos of him getting head or angled flicks of him dicking down a girl in his living room, Kendall found herself enamored by him and the spontaneous sex life he had. Maybe if she had someone like him in her life she wouldn't be as stressed about half the shit she was now.

A girl could only dream.

Right?

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Monday 11:40PM

"Yes I turned those files in yesterday, they should all be in the OneDrive link I sent you. No you don't need a password... yes - I double checked this time, so it should open up fine." Kendall uttered as she clicked down the foyer. If it wasn't her boss driving her up the wall at work, it was her fellow co-worker Jackson. He never stayed out of her hair and insisted on contacting her over the most minuscule things. It was mainly because he wanted to fuck and his advances in the office weren't getting him anywhere but back to his cubicle - alone.

On this lovely night it was nearing 12 in the morning and his pestering had yet to cease from the time Kendall had clocked in that morning.

"Jackson I'm about to get in the elevator and my signal is gonna go out, I'll call you when I get in okay?"

"Ah forreal? Aight, bet."

"It's not like that," she sneered, "this is corporate business remember?"

"Yeah yeah ye-"

She hit end and pretended that her signal had gone out when in reality she had four full bars. The elevator door pinged open and to her surprise someone else was inside. Inhaling deeply she slid in across from the stranger, keeping her eyes glued to a new text message from an unblocked number that slid across her screen. It was like all the annoying ass niggas wanted to get on her nerves tonight.

I know you up right now. When you gone let me get the rest of my stuff??

"What fucking stuff?" she thought out loud, pressing number 15 on the lift and watching the doors close back. Devin had gotten kicked out of her crib over a month ago, and for whatever reason he insisted accusing her of having his stuff hidden away. A loud hiss escaped her lips as she rapidly clicked out a reply.

Idk wtf you on about but I can promise you ain’t shit of yours here. Whatever I didn’t put on the curb prolly somewhere in Alabama rn, check Craigslist and block this number💯

Before she could end her text with a hearty ‘fuck off’, her screen cut to calling and Devins new number flooded the screen. Kendall softly thudded her head off the elevator wall and audibly deep sighed for the millionth time that day.

"Can a bitch catch a break? Goddamn." she said aloud, prompting the stranger next to her to let out a deep chuckle. It made her ears perk up and her body freeze a little. The laugh was familiar, one she'd heard way too many times before to not know.

'There's no way in hell...No. You just bugging out right now.' Thought Kendall.

To her relief the lift promptly stopped on 15, and she made no hesitation to get out and beeline to her apartment. As she stepped out, however, her keys hit the elevator floor and landed by the strangers foot. Before she could fully whip around and snatch them up, he’d already beat her to it, her eyes making a deathly slow trail from the floor to the hand holding her hot pink key ring.

Kendall’s heart went straight to her ass as she caught a full view of who she'd been standing next to.

He had the same tatts, the same voice, the same eyes.

"Here you go."

"Oh shit - thank you. Have a nice night."

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

When Kendall got inside her apartment, she let out a loud expletive-filled exhale and contemplated running straight for her room. Either she was losing her mind or fate was one hell of a thing. She knew she couldn't do it - whatever it was – sober, so she grabbed a bottle of Patron off of her kitchen counter and mixed the strongest margarita she could muster. After half an hour of contemplation and small sips of tequila Kendall finally caved in and headed to her room. Her heart was thumping out of her chest as she logged in and clicked on the profile she'd often visit. In a blind rush she navigated her way to his DM's and felt her heart skip a beat as the small dot next to his picture was green - he was awake and online, probably uploading a new video given the time.

"Don't be a pussy Ken, you already here." She mumbled

Before she could fully chicken out the liquor kicked in and forced her fingers to type.

k3nlaflair: you live in Av. 76?

…

k3nlaflair: I think I just ran into you.

k3nlaflair: on the elevator

…

scvrlord: oh shit, that was you?

Bingo. She held back a scream and composed herself as she thought of a decent reply back.

k3nlaflair: this is mad weird lol sorry

scvrlord: nah baby you good, you beautiful btw.

…

k3nlaflair: 🫠 thank you

k3nlaflair: and sorry for bothering you so late, this is crazyyyy lol thanks for the save

scvrlord: nah you good I promise

scvrlord: rs you the first person my age I’ve seen since I moved 😂

k3nlaflair: yeahh Av. is a nursing home if you squint hard enough lol they don’t really tell they yuppies about it either.

scvrlord: I def see now. since ion really know anybody around here you down to grab lunch this weekend? on me.

Kendall couldn't believe her eyes. Not only was this man living in the same building as her, he was now casually asking her out for a chat. If she fumbled this her friend group would never let her live this down. Heart fluttering, she quickly tapped away at her keyboard and blindly hit send.

k3nlaflair: I know a chill spot in K-town that’s real lowkey. foods to die for and the drinks are stiff as you can get lol!

scvrlord: bet. meet at mine Friday night. that cool?

k3nlaflair: bet.

Kendall was every bit of speechless. This was the clutch of the year - no the century - all thanks to her shitty roster and butter fingers. As she reread her final three letter text for the hundredth time in those fleeting minutes, a sheepish grin curled across her face.

‘Kendall: 1, Devin: 0’

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

first and foremost big thank you to the gang for inspiring (and gently bullying me) to get back in the writing field again, love y’all downnn 😭🫡

pls don’t be shy to leave a comment, suggestions for part one, whatever you like my friends 🫶🏽 see you in the next one

TAGS: @kimuzostar @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @yassbishimvintage @melaninpov @planetblaque @jenlovey @ranikyani

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond fanfiction #Aaron Pierre fanfiction #black fem oc #black writblr

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sagekjs21 · 3 days ago

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1. There are only three TV shows that I care about at all anymore: The Chosen, When Calls the Heart, and Heartland. They really don't overlap much, so I don't really have a backlog of TV that I need to watch. When these three shows are completed, I am very unlikely to pick up any new shows at all, I have pretty much lost all interest in TV other than these three shows.

2. I don't have a favorite pair.

3. Yes, of all different sorts. When I make my own, I always add spinach or kale because if you blend it properly you can't even taste it and it just packs the smoothie full of vitamins and nutrients.

4. My order of preference would be dress pants first and foremost, a skirt is tolerable, and I try to avoid dresses like the plague. If I have to though I will. I literally own one dress and one skirt.

5. In an omelette with cheese, different types of breakfast meats, and different combinations of vegetables depending upon my mood. For just plain eggs though, I prefer them scrambled with a bunch of pepper.

6. Whatever is handy: a bookmark, a receipt, a random piece of junk mail, anything really. I don't dog ear the pages though.

7. I've got a fairly decent mixture. I prefer black, blue, red, and white, but as far as I know the only color missing is pink and it's going to stay that way lol.

8. No. I used to, I used to collect all kinds of things. But I've moved around enough times in my life to know that holding onto stuff is not something that I am suited for. I'm not a true minimalist, but I don't like collecting a bunch of stuff either.

9. A cat purring, running water, birds, a music box, the perfume my grandmother used to wear, vanilla, coconut, the perfume that I wear most often

10. No opinion

11. I wear sunglasses outside and in brightly lit rooms/buildings.

12. I've got two best friends, and I love their enthusiasm. Both of them, when they get on a topic that they love or get an idea that they're excited about, they're like little kids. 😊 @titaniumpeony @pinestripe37 ❤️

13. If I have to write by hand, pen, but I much prefer to type.

14. Really only at my church, my current home, and the house that my grandmother used to live in which I will probably never visit again.

15. Not applicable

16. Also not applicable. I don't think I've owned a hoodie since around 2012. Not really my style. Not feminine enough.

17. Food on DoorDash lol. As to which restaurant, I honestly can't remember.

18. Lots of biblical things, particularly the good ones surrounding Jesus.

19. Not applicable

20. I'm good at the basics, I'm good at algebra, I'm good at geometry, and I'm good at trigonometry. I have never done calculus and so I have no idea what my skill set is there, and the only math I ever struggled with was statistics but I still managed to get an a. Barely.

21. Definitely not applicable lol.

22. Usually iced unless it is very very cold outside.

23. Anything that comes up that I know the lyrics to and enjoy.

24. Of course I am! I am seriously the best driver that anyone would ever meet. 😊 For anyone reading this that doesn't know, I'm partially blind and legally am unable to drive ever.

25. Just the average pierced ears, and I don't want any other piercings and definitely no tattoos.

26. Both! I've got a lot of different stuff that I think is good and a lot of people compliment me on. Probably my spaghetti sauce would be one of the top things. I can make pretty much anything though and have fun tweaking and playing around with a lot of ingredients and recipes.

27. Just one. And honestly I can't even think of what it is lol. I know it has to do with the state of Arizona and it's some kind of picture but that's all I can remember. 😊

28. I would consider myself an intermediate swimmer. I know more than just the basics, I know a few different strokes, I took lessons for either six or seven years quite a while ago. However I'm not exceptionally fit and so speed would definitely be my downfall and I don't know anything advanced.

29. I had a very basic set when I was very little, and when I was maybe 12 or 13 one of my friends had a bit of a more complex set but it didn't really have a theme.

30. Yes, from left to right: tank tops, short sleeve shirts, three-quarter sleeve shirts, long sleeve shirts, sweaters that act as shirts, pants, my skirt, jackets/sweaters. My dress is in a different closet as are my extra pairs of shoes.

31. I have absolutely no idea. Probably one of the songs that @pinestripe37 sent me about Psalm 23.

32. I wouldn't.

33. Earbuds

34. Of course.

35. It's a black and white cat that @pinestripe37 gave me for my last birthday.

36. I'm not really good at many of them because they generally contain a lot of visual aspects, but I do have fun playing at arcades. Haven't done that in years and now I kind of want to lol.

37. I prefer it. It gives me someone to talk to and if they want to help out they can and if not that's OK too.

38. I don't have any secret TV shows or musicians that I like that I'm too embarrassed to tell people about. I mean really, I don't care. My music taste very eclectic, I still like the Backstreet Boys and a few songs from the Spice Girls and I really don't mind admitting that at all lol. If people are going to judge me based on that I probably don't want them in my life anyway.

39. Receiving a bunch of very useful information from God. But a lot of good stuff happened today, I mean tons of it! 😊 it was one of the best days I've had in a long time. 😊

40. Probably a Christmas tree of some sort or a palm tree

41. Usually either vanilla or coconut

42. Not applicable

43. This is a super weird question. For me most of the time I shower with the lights off but that's because light from the windows gives me enough light in my bathroom to see by. It wouldn't for people with normal vision, so this question has me wondering why anybody would shower in the dark. I probably don't want to know the answer to that.

44. I usually give it to people, friends, street people, I may put it in a tip jar or just anything of that sort, I don't like holding onto spare change at all.

45. definitely not lol

46. I can't think of anything specifically, but probably a book or a song.

47. Only if I'm with someone. Going on a walk by myself is boring.

48. No.

49. I like to go out and stand in the rain. I don't care if it's sprinkling or pouring. Yeah, I'm that crazy person lol. Smile 😊

50. a comfortable bed for sure, a pillow that provides lots of head and neck support, the room is not too hot or too cold but the perfect temperature, and I can sleep the whole night through without waking up.

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

#I know this is not how these things are supposed to be done but this is how I do them lol

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gracieheartspedro · 23 hours ago

Text

Cherry Stems

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

description: eddie rejects your advances because his friends are around. so you use them to your advantage. piss eddie off and maybe you'll get what you want. maybe.

warnings: MDNI! 18+ only pls, age not specified but i imagine eddie/reader are 20+, porn without much plot, major teasing, reader is a brat, mentions of eating food, reader has no food aversions, nicknames, reader is flirting with eddie's bandmates, jealousy, possessiveness, name calling, face grabbing, eddie is lowkey a dom, unprotected p in v, fingering (vaginal), oral fixation, eddie puts his fingers in your mouth a lot, reader gets off on being bullied, orgasm denial, cum play, cum eating.... think that's it.

author’s note: hi i wrote this in one night. i am a whore for eddie, what else can i say. i'm also down to take requests, so if you see this, hey, send me an ask. maybe i'll cave and do some. as always, thanks bestie girl @amanitacowboy for helping me with this. let's never forget how much of a whore we are for this man. it keeps me (in)sane <3

Eddie had been teasing you all night and it was really starting to get to you.

After a pretty electric performance at The Hideout, Eddie and his friends decided that they were hungry for some burgers from the empty Shiny Diner nearby. You had already had enough of Eddie’s shit at this point, so as soon as you sat next to him in the big half moon shaped booth, you knew it was game on.

From eyeing you while he sang filthy lyrics from the stage, to the way he was working his hand up the hem of your dress when you sat at the bar, Eddie was truly being a menace. When the band got loud in the car on the way to the diner, you decided to make your move. You had rested your hand on Eddie’s crotch while sitting in the bucket seat next to him. While Eddie loved giving a good show, he was not keen on letting his friends see you in such a way. So he brushed your hand away and gave you the ‘not now’ eyes.

You were for him and him only.

It aggravated you to no end, watching him rejoin the conversation with the guys, while you crossed your arms in disappointment.

But you were going to push some buttons tonight. You were going to get him back.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were all very sweet boys. Each of them have never been nothing but respectful of you. Gareth had known you longer than Eddie and he was actually the one who introduced you two. Jeff was usually a know-it-all, but he never dared question anything you said. And Grant… he was just quiet. Always following along with the antics and very well mannered.

While you respected all the boys back, you also knew they found you attractive and that you could take advantage of that. After one specific smoke session together a couple months back, Eddie asked them all if they had a crush on you. He only ever said things like that to make them squirm. Teasing each other was the way they showed their love for one another. He also liked to remind people that they never stood a chance with you. And they all said that of course they found you pretty, but they would not dare go after you.

Well, for one night only, you would give them believe they had a chance. Just to piss off Eddie.

You had done this before. A year into your relationship, you had unintentionally made him jealous and it led to the most mind blowing sex of your life. The sex was so memorable that you do not even remember how you made him jealous.

You needed that just about now.

You were the only group there along with the waitress and line cook, so you were not worried about making a scene. You game plan how you were going to achieve such a feat as you scan the diner menu. You already knew what you wanted, but spotting the milkshakes on the list of drinks, a light bulb went off in your brain.

The older waitress took down the boy’s order while you sat quietly staring at the menu. When it came down to you, you look up at the white haired woman and smiled.

“One chocolate shake, extra whip cream and cherries, please.” You hand her the menu and glance over at a confused Eddie. You usually got a Dr. Pepper and a cheeseburger value meal, hold the lettuce.

“Not hungry, baby?” He asks, reaching out for your black painted nails. You slide your hand away, acting like you are reaching for something in your purse.

“Just wanna try something new.”

You pull your lipgloss out, still not looking over at Eddie. You twist off the top, placing the applicator on the middle of your bottom lip as your eyes flicker over to Grant’s. He is not paying much mind to anything, his eyes looking towards the window behind you. When he takes note of your gaze, he finally looks at you.

You swipe the gloss across your lips, smirking devilishly.

“What did you get, Grant?”

He thinks for a beat, realizing even he forgot what he ordered. “Uh… BLT with onion rings.”

You smack your lips together, rubbing your top lip on the bottom one painfully slow.

“You gonna share your onion rings?”

He was not expecting the question, his lips curling upward before he chuckles. You can feel Eddie’s body stiffen as you ask the question.

Grant nods, though, “Of course. You can have some-” “Baby, you’re not gonna eat his food.” You shoot a glare at Eddie, tossing your gloss back in your pocketbook. “Grant said I could, so… yeah I am.”

Eddie’s eyes search yours, trying to figure out what you are trying to do. You disguise your pleasure at his curiosity, rolling your eyes and pointing your attention at Jeff. He’s positioned right next to Grant, fiddling with his fingers. Before you can press him with a question, the waitress comes and puts down your drinks. She’s missing your milkshake.

“That’ll be out in just a moment,” She says, grabbing her tray as she returns behind the counter, seemingly preparing your shake. You watch Jeff fiddle with his straw wrapper and you finally decide to bother him next.

“Is that Dr. Pepper?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Jeff always got Dr. Pepper, just like you. It’s something you two bonded over often. He just nods, taking a sip of the bubbly beverage. You look over at the waitress quickly, seeing she’s still fiddling with the milkshake blender.

You grab Jeff’s ice cold glass, your eyes glistening with innocence, “You mind if I have a sip? I’m parched.” And of course he’s too confused to say no. You pull the drink over and once it crosses to your side of the table, Eddie’s hand presses into your bare thigh. You do not react, taking Jeff’s straw into your mouth and sucking in a big sip, your eyes never leaving his. Once you pull the plastic away, you smirk.

“Thanks, hun.” You push the drink back to him slowly. His cheeks heat up instantly when he notices your lipgloss on the tip of the straw. Eddie’s hand only squeezes more, trying to get you to look over at him.

He wanted your attention so bad, his body curving closer to you. You can feel his gaze stuck onto the side of your face.

Before anyone says anything else, the white haired lady returns with your chocolate shake. You giddedly grab the glass and stuff a straw into the frozen drink.

You use your tongue to toy with the end of the straw, pulling it into your open mouth. Your eyes flicker away from Jeff and take aim at Gareth, who’s seated right across from you. Since he’s known you so long, you can already read on his face that he knows what you are up to. He may be a nice guy, but he too loves to fuck with Eddie.

He was going to help you in whatever way possible. Instead of you initiating conversation, he speaks up.

“Chocolate, huh? Thought you’d like vanilla.” Your eyebrow quirks up. You know Eddie’s face is bright red next to you. The heat radiating from him is pressing into your shoulder and thigh.

“You got me pegged as a vanilla girl? That’s a bit offensive, Gare,” You smile, calculating your next move. You look down at the pile of whipped cream on the top of the shake. You drag your pointer finger across the top, gathering the cream all around it.

You hear Eddie whispering beside you. “You better fuckin’ not.”

You smile, bringing your finger to your lips, not peeling your eyes from Gareth. You know the tension is palpable because Gareth’s smile is only widening when you lick the cream off your finger.

The other guys are gawking at you at this point. You were putting on a show and they could not even fathom that it was happening before their very eyes.

Gareth finally says something, nodding at the milkshake. “And extra cherries?”

“Gareth-,” Eddie’s voice fades over yours.

“Oh yeah! You know I can tie the stems with my tongue?”

Eddie’s rings are going to be imprinted on your leg with how tightly he’s gripping onto you. You grab one of the cherries, getting your fingers covered in more whipped cream. You lean your head back a bit, your nose facing the old tile ceiling. You drop the cherry in your mouth, stem up. Tilting your head back, facing Gareth, you pull the cherry off the stem between your teeth. It’s unbelievably sensual the way you chew the red fruit.

You show each of the boys the stem, even Eddie. When you glance over at him, you do not believe you have ever seen him so annoyed. He’s not hiding it well. You drop the stem on your tongue, returning your gaze over to Gareth.

You roll the stem around, using your teeth slightly to do the stupid party trick you learned in 10th grade to impress a boy. It’s not impressive when every hot girl in school could do it, too. But nonetheless, it was something you could do to layer on the eroticism of the moment.

When it’s tied, you contemplate taking it out of your mouth and showing it off. Maybe even drop it in Eddie’s hand. Instead, you decide to just extend your tongue out and show the stem on the very tip of your tongue.

The color drains from Eddie’s face. It’s the end of the show for him.

He grabs your forearm, ripping you out of the booth. You look back at Gareth, who’s still smiling, all the while Jeff and Grant look even more confused.

When the fresh air hits you when he slams the glass door open, you flick your head to the side and spit out the stem in the gravel. His grip is so tight around your arm as he drags you to the van. It’s parked on the far side of the lot, occupying a spot that’s backed up to some woods.

“What is wrong?”

Asking such a question only pisses him off further. Once you reach the van, his left hand flings the side door open. He practically tosses you onto the shag rug that lines the very back of the vehicle.

“Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” His voice is intimidatingly deep.

Your legs hang out while Eddie stands over you, his hand resting on the top of the van. The back of your knees feel the sting of the frayed metal that hinges the door shut. You swallow, contemplating if you should continue messing with him. With the way he’s looking at you, you felt that this was not going to lead to the jealous sex you two had before. He’s actually angry.

“You pushed my hand away when I wanted you earlier.”

Your voice is so small and unsure. His eyes narrow at you, his mouth slightly ajar in complete disbelief. The silence hanging in the air makes your heart rate increase.

His mouth closes and you watch his jaw clench, “So you flirt with my friends right in front of me? Even when I explicitly said you better not.”

With his free hand, he swats your bare leg as you squeeze your thighs together. “Answer me.”

You watch the red mark appear on your flesh and decide to keep playing into the game. You had nothing to lose. If he’s actually angry, you could always have amazing make up sex instead. Eddie could not stay mad at you for too long.

You shake your head, lifting your chin up in defiance. “All I did was tie a cherry stem.”

He does not accept that answer, slapping your thigh harder this time.

You knew then that you had him where you wanted him. His eyes were giving him away. His pupils dilated as soon as he realized that you did not yelp at him slapping you around.

Your eyes widen, watching him jump into the van beside you and dragging you back further. He slams the door, rattling the hunk of metal. The only light being let in is from the front windshield. A hazy warm lit streetlight only lights up Eddie’s face as he’s pining you to the ground.

He positions himself between your legs, pushing the back of your thighs up with his knees. The skirt you chose for the occasion was pretty flowy, so it slid up your hips as soon as he props you up. “You want to act like a whore in front of my friends? All ‘cause I slapped your hand away earlier?”

His voice does not even sound like his. You hear the jiggling of his belt as he asks you the question. But the more twisted Eddie was, the more aroused you felt. You were drawn to him the first moment he teased you and bullied you a bit. You got off on him being callous.

“Words. Now.”

You look down between your legs and see his cock springing free from his boxers as he shoves them down his thighs. You groan, the pulsating at your core coinciding with your heart rate. “Wanted to get your attention.”

He smacks your inner thigh, painfully close to your pantyline. You moan at the action, propping yourself up a bit more on your elbows. You watch as he carefully drags his pointer and middle finger under the hem of your lace. He smirks to himself, “That’s not what I fuckin’ asked.”

His fingers dip under your underwear, gathering the slick between your folds. You throw your head back, unable to hold back the sob as he spreads you open. You were putty in his hands, always bending to him. “Yes, Eddie.”

Your response leads to him sliding his fingers inside your cunt, a wet squelching noise filling both your ears. Your back thuds against the rug as your muscles give out under his touch. He fucks you with his fingers, the look on his face unreadable. He usually takes his time with foreplay, but this was different. He was testing how far he could take you in a limited amount of time. You were in a parking lot with his friends less than 500 feet inside, he could not take his time torturing you.

His fingers retract from your pussy, gripping onto the lace of your panties and tearing them down your legs. When he sits back on his heels, you watch his long cock bounce with his movements. It sends a smile across your face. When he zeros in on you again, he tilts his head to the side.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t talk anymore.”

It makes you giggle at first, unsure if he’s really being serious. But when his face does not twist up into a smirk like it usually did, you realize you were in trouble. He takes ahold of his dick, leaning forward onto you. Your mouth falls open as you study Eddie dragging his tip between your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could.

He sinks into you, raising your hips a bit to meet him straight on. The stretch is always overwhelming for you at first. You and Eddie fucked at least three times a week, but he always made you cum before shoving his cock deep inside you. Stretching you out for a couple minutes with two fingers is not enough for you. He hisses when he pulls back, his hands grasping onto you for dear life.

He wastes no time setting a bruising pace. There’s no build up, he is simply taking his annoyance out on you. You are reaching out to anything around you, trying to find something to hold onto as he rams into you. You find a sweatshirt nearby, squeezing it as tight as you can as you breathe out to relax your pelvic muscles.

“Eddie, please-” You try to say, throwing your head forward. He shifts your hips a bit more, opening you up wider. As he does that, he rakes his hands upward, pushing your skirt up higher to your belly button. He shakes your head to your pleas.

“Eddie, please.” He mocks, relocating his hand to squeeze your cheeks together. When your jaw unhinges, Eddie inspects your tongue as he drills into you. “Put my fingers in your mouth.”

“Ed-”

He sandwiches your face harder, cutting you off from being able to say anything. He fills your mouth with the two fingers that were plunging inside of you earlier. The taste of your own arousal is still present on his fingers as you swirl your tongue around the digits. You mewl as he grinds his pelvis into your clit. “Shut up,” he orders, his face centimeters from yours, “Now suck them while I fuck you.”

You have no way to talk back, so you do what he says. You hallow your cheeks out, lathering all your saliva around his fingers. The build up in the pit of your stomach only gets more intense when Eddie hoists your leg up over his shoulder. You clench around him, tears pricking your eyes as you vibrate his fingers with your moans.

“Do not fuckin’ cum yet,” He warns, pulling his fingers in and out of your mouth. His hips are faltering as he chases his own climax. Your body feels like every nerve ending is about to implode under the pressure of you holding back your orgasm, and Eddie can sense that. He drags his fingers out from your lips, rubbing your own spit into your lips. He grabs your jaw with the same hand, pulling your face closer to his.

“Say you’re mine. You’re only gonna be mine.”

You nod, knocking his forehead slightly. “I’m only ever gonna be yours, Eddie.”

With your foreheads touching, you watch as he falls apart inside you.

And with three vicious snaps of his hips, he spills his seed deep inside you. He does not let out a sound. His mouth is agape as deep heaves fan your face.

When he finishes, he slides his cock out of you and sits back on his knees again. Him exiting your body is so frustrating, you want to scream.

He uses one arm to hold your one leg back as spit covered fingers swipe up your cunt. His spend is leaking out of you and you know if he works his usual magic, you will cum in 30 seconds.

“Please, Eddie. Please let me cum.”

He smirks villainously, “Why should I let you, hm?” He spreads your pussy lips, getting a good look as his cum dribbles down to your asshole.

You are getting desperate. You never had to beg Eddie to cum, ever. He was always so generous.

“I promise I’ll be good. Please, please.” He chuckles dryly before sinking his fingers back into you. “Fine. Since you asked so pretty and promised to behave yourself.”

His fingers scissor into you, that familiar burn in the pit of your stomach returning. As his two fingers make work at your entrance, his thumb swipes your clit in meticulous circles. His bottom lip is tucked under his top teeth, watching you fall apart on his fingers. You are practically chanting his name as he brings you to your peak.

When your chest heaves, finally relaxing from your orgasm, Eddie slides his digits out of you and brings them up to his plump pink lips. He licks them clean, just like you did with the whipped cream earlier.

“Hm… Don’t see how Gareth thought you were a vanilla girl,” He states, smiling sinfully at you. “You, my dear, are a fuckin’ vixen.”

tags of friends who may like this idk (if you wanna be tagged in the future, just lemme know <3):

@hockeyhughes @pedgito @mediocredreams @the-unforgivenn

#eddie you are plaguing my every thought #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #joseph quinn #joe quinn #fic: cherry stems #gracieheartspedro

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itadorey · 2 days ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐓! — gojo satoru

pairing: gojo x gn!reader summary: little snippets showing how gojo satoru has always been a pain in your ass genre: fluff and angst #lol #soz word count: ~3k notes: sorry. spoilers for shibuya arc and onwards, mentions of jjk 236. also this is the only thing i've written in months so i'm kinda rusty

Gojo Satoru is a pain in the ass.

More specifically, he's a pain in your ass, especially once he discovered that you're so much easier to rile up than Utahime.

It starts in high school, with meaningless bets made between the two of you that all result in endless lectures and reprimands from your respective school principals. But it's hard for you to stop agreeing to these deals when Gojo offers you a week without his presence if you manage to win.

Victories for you have become more common in recent years, with you learning how to words your agreements in a sly way that makes Gojo huff out a little laugh whenever you manage to outwit him. But your losses far outweigh your triumphs and you constantly find yourself dragged onto missions or out to new restaurants whenever Gojo wins. Which happens to be pretty often.

"I bet that the first years can beat you in a fight," Gojo says, snickering when you shoot him a nasty look. He takes a step closer to you, pouting when you distance yourself from him and speed up.

"I bet you that they can't," you retort, unable to stop yourself from disputing his statement. You don't turn to look at him, merely grumbling under your breath when he easily matches your stride.

You have no idea how you've ended up here, transferred (against your will you might add!) to Tokyo Jujutsu High to teach alongside the only man who has ever made you feel feral. And not in a good way.

The very reason for your arrival is none other than Okkotsu Yuuta, an overpowered, meek-looking teen with a cursed technique that seems to be a little more trouble than you originally thought. That's the only thing going through your mind when you're introduced to him, leaving you inattentive to the way Gojo slings an arm over your shoulders and introduces you as his significant other to the first years.

You're only brought back to the present when Panda— yes, an actual panda— congratulates you loudly, causing you to scowl and push Gojo far, far, away from you. You're the only one who doesn't notice how you actually make brief physical contact with him.

"I am not dating him. I'm your new instructor," you say sharply, introducing yourself before turning and walking out the door. The first years all share a glance before following, Zenin Maki leading the small group as she eyes you with interest. You come to a stop in the middle of the training field before flashing them a grin that can only be described as dangerous. "Now, we're going to see how much combat experience you have, so give me all you've got."

You then proceed to take on all four of the first years, all too aware of the way Gojo's stare never leaves your figure. At the end of the day, you're the proud winner of a Gojo-free week.

Your first year teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech is a tumultuous one.

You learn to treasure your friends a little more, and you find yourself thinking that you've become a pro when it comes to grieving.

(You remember Geto's defeated form as you arrived just in time to see the last smile he ever gave Gojo right before he took his last breath—)

The stress of everything even has you appreciating Gojo's presence in your life a little more, and when you tell Shoko this development, she merely snorts and pulls out a cigarette. You chide her for failing to break her habit even after she's promised you multiple times, only falling silent when you realize just how tired she looks.

You've become a pro at grieving, but that doesn't mean everyone else has, so you silently slide the cigarette packet back towards her and leave her to mourn in a way that seems to work for her.

The months that follow feel like a blur, and you get sent on plenty of missions to fill time. Your bets with Gojo seem to occur more often, and you find that you don't necessarily dislike hanging out with him whenever he wins. You wonder if the previous year has helped him mellow out, and you find yourself thinking a friendship with Gojo is possible. Especially after everything the two of you have dealt with.

Your appreciation for Gojo ends up fizzling out when you learn from Maki that he's been telling the new first year, Fushiguro Megumi, the same lies he tried telling the second years when you first arrive. It isn't long before you find out that Megumi is incredibly perceptive, and he doesn't fall victim to Gojo's lies about your nonexistent relationship.

Unfortunately, the two other first years aren't necessarily as... insightful as Megumi is, and all it takes is for them to see the way Gojo smiles when he's around you to believe that the two of you are meant to be.

Itadori Yuuji is a young boy that you think is a little wise beyond his years. When you hear about how he ate— yes, consumed— Sukuna's finger, you change your mind. He's seen a lot in the past few days, and it almost amuses you to see just how upbeat but jaded he seems. Seeing him interact with Megumi reminds you of sweeter times, back when you were their age and spent your afternoons sharing snacks and chatting with Utahime, and you feel an awful heaviness weighing down your heart when you realize just how small they seem.

You're tending to Megumi's wounds when you meet Yuuji for the first time, and you can't help but roll your eyes when you hear Gojo call out your name.

"This is my partner," he whispers loudly to Yuuji, lips turned up in a fond smile as you give Megumi the all clear. There's a mildly irritated huff that escapes you as you turn to greet the newest first year, but you can't help the way your lips twitch when Gojo tries to pinch your cheek and you swat his hand away. Megumi's suspicious eyebrow raise goes unnoticed by you as Yuuji bows in greeting, an easy smile on his face as he looks between you and Gojo.

"The two of you make a nice couple," he comments before his gaze drifts over to Megumi. You open your mouth to dispute Yuuji's statement but he makes his way over to Megumi before you have the chance to actually speak. "Woah! Fushiguro, what happened to you?"

The two boys walk into Megumi's bedroom, softly conversing as Yuuji pokes at the bandage on his cheek. You watch them fondly, sighing softly before turning around to leave.

"I bet I can also convince the third first year that we're dating," Gojo sings as he walks beside you, causing you to flinch away from him.

"I bet you can't," you respond automatically, feeling your stomach drop when he shoots you a cocky grin. He doesn't say anything before splitting off down another hall, shouting a quick goodbye to the two boys who are still wrapped up in conversation. You hope that Kugisaki Nobara is smarter than Yuuji.

Kugisaki Nobara is not smarter than Yuuji.

You have hope for the first five minutes you interact with her, fighting a smirk when you notice her immediate disdain towards Gojo. There's a judgmental look on her face as he introduces himself, and you can't help but straighten up when her gaze lands on you and her eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"It's very nice to meet you," you say softly, introducing yourself and giving her a soft smile. She smiles back at you, her expression becoming strained when Gojo pulls you into his side.

"We're dating!" he proclaims proudly, earning a quiet groan from you. Nobara looks between the two of you skeptically, and you feel confident that she's going to call out his lie until she turns to look at her fellow first years.

There's a bored look on Megumi's face, but Yuuji is nodding his head enthusiastically, his eyes shining as he glances at you and Gojo. You shake your head in response, and Megumi's lips twitch in amusement at your contrasting demeanors. Your embarrassed state is apparently proof enough for Nobara, and she gives you a sympathetic look as she turns to face you once more.

"You're so brave," she whispers to you, wiping a fake tear from her eye before turning to Gojo. "And you're punching above your weight."

She promptly turns around and walks off before he can respond, leaving you fighting back a giggle as Megumi and Yuuji follow her. Gojo wilts at her words momentarily before turning to give you a dazzling smile, lifting his blindfold just enough for you to see him wink at you.

"I win!" he declares, laughing when he notices the way your eyebrows furrow in frustration. He turns to follow after Nobara, casually reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours before pulling you along. "Come on! We can't stand here all day, we might lose the kids."

He smiles when you don't really make a move to pull your hand away from his and makes a mental note to take you to your favorite restaurant this time.

"I bet I can take out more curses than you."

Your statement is quiet, a familiar phrase meant to try and calm your nerves. You're met with a bored glance from Nanami, and you huff when he crosses his arms and shakes his head.

The atmosphere in Shibuya is unsettling, and even though you have complete faith in your abilities as a sorcerer, you can't help but feel a chill run down your spine when you think about what's to come.

"You should be making that bet with your boyfriend. Not me," Nanami says in response. You scowl at him in return, rolling your eyes when you catch sight of the amused smirk on his face.

"He is not my boyfriend," you mutter petulantly, all too aware of the way your statement lacks its usual bite. There's a quiet hum from Nanami before silence engulfs the two of you, and then—

"Are you sure about that?"

"Nanami!" you snap, feeling your cheeks warm as you turn to shove him. He barely moves, and you half-heartedly let out a string of curses as he chuckles. The tension you previously felt is broken momentarily, and you feel a brief moment of happiness as you joke with your friend. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I'm just saying," he continues, his tone even as he does his best to not give anything away. "Yuuji seems to think that the two of you are perfect for each other. I've heard quite a lot about how sweet he thinks the two of you are together."

"I can't believe Yuuji believed him," you mutter, shaking your head. There's a part of you that can't help but wonder what exactly it is that Yuuji sees that makes him think you and Gojo are a bona fide couple, but you tell yourself that now is not the time to dwell on that.

"Well, those younger than us tend to be more perceptive sometimes," Nanami says, unintentionally answering your internal question.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

There's another moment of silence between the two of you before Nanami calls your name, bringing your attention to him once more.

"I'll accept your bet, but when I win, you have to take Gojo out to dinner."

"When you win?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow as you stare him down.

"Yes, when I win," he says, doubling down on his statement. "You need to take Gojo out. As in a date. Who knows? Maybe you'll finally understand Yuuji's point of view when it comes to you two."

"Deal," you say, eyes narrowing when he holds out his hand for you to shake.

That's the last time you ever have contact with Nanami, and later on in the night when you find his body, you can't help but wonder which one of you had actually won your silly bet.

But as you discovered a year ago, you're a pro at dealing with grief, so you give yourself fifteen minutes to collect yourself before setting out to find your students.

After all, you now have to figure out a way to get Gojo free from the prison realm and maybe even honor your bet with Nanami regardless of who won.

The relief you feel when you see Kurusu Hana unseal the prison realm is overwhelming.

When you get told by Shoko that she's giving Gojo a checkup, you act before you can stop yourself, bursting into the infirmary and throwing yourself into Gojo's arms. You let out a stuttered breath when he catches you effortlessly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you hide your face in his neck, and when he laughs you can feel your throat tighten up as you try to hold back your tears.

"Missed me?" he asks, cocky tone still present in his voice. His actions present a stark difference to his tone, and you can't help but think to yourself that he's holding you so tightly because he's scared of being separated from you once more.

So much, you think to yourself. But you're as stubborn ever and so you resolutely shake your head, drawing another laugh out from him as turns his face to press a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head.

"I did," he murmurs, voice soft as he pulls you even closer. "Miss you, that is."

There's a moment of silence as Shoko pulls Ijichi away, attempting to give the two of you some privacy as she gathers up the necessary tools. There's a mischievous glint in her eye when Gojo gives her an appreciative nod, but she refrains from teasing either one of you for the time being.

You make a move to pull away from the hug, a soft gasp leaving your lips when Gojo's arms tighten around you and pull you flush against him. You fight against his hold, pulling back just enough to see the pout on his lips. A breathy laugh escapes you, and your hands come up to cradle his face as you take the moment to process the fact that he's finally back. There's a softness in his blue eyes that makes you choke up once more, and you impulsively pull his face towards yours and press a kiss to his forehead.

He freezes beneath your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his breath hitches. His arms loosen in shock and you take the opportunity to slip out of his hold, cheeks burning when you turn and see Shoko and Ijichi watching the two of you with matching smiles on their faces. Gojo's hand darts out to grab your wrist before you can get too far, and he gently pulls you to his side, resting his head on your shoulder as Shoko proceeds with her checkup.

The days leading up to December 24 are eerily calm, and you make sure to take time for yourself in order to properly grieve Nanami and pray for Megumi and check up on Nobara's condition. Gojo joins you most of the time, silent but always within reach, with his hand holding yours or resting comfortably along your back.

"You know," you randomly say, walking alongside Gojo on your way to meet up with everyone else. There's a pit in your stomach as you glance at him, the knowledge of his upcoming fight weighing heavy on your mind. "I actually made a bet with Nanami before he..."

"I thought that was our thing," Gojo muses. His eyes linger on you before he turns back to face the road in front of you, tucking his hands into his pocket with an air of nonchalance.

"Nanami said something along those lines too," you say, laughing softly at the memory. "He still agreed to it, but he said that if he won I'd have to take you out on a date."

"Oh?"

Your words have piqued Gojo's interest, and he comes to a stop at the top of a staircase. You can see Yuuji's tuft of pink hair in the distance, and you drag your eyes back to your companion as you come to a stop as well.

"Too bad we never found out who won," you say flatly.

"Oh," Gojo repeats, his dull tone matching yours. You turn to face the staircase once more, trying to ignore the way Gojo's stare burns into you. You don't think you'll ever get used to those eyes of him.

"How about we make a bet?" you say lightly. There's a twinkle in your eye that sends a thrill down Gojo's spine, and he smiles before motioning for you to continue. "I bet that you can't beat Sukuna. If I win, you leave me alone for longer than a week, even though I know that'll be hard for you. If you win, I'll take you out on a date."

"Sounds like an easy win to me," he comments, laughing when you toss him a sly grin over your shoulder. "Betting against the strongest? I think you're guaranteed to lose."

"Perhaps, but I can't imagine I'll be all too upset about it," is all you say, shrugging your shoulders before descending down the stairs. Gojo smiles dazedly for a couple more seconds before following after you, effortlessly scooping your hand and entangling your fingers the same way he did when the two of you met Nobara for the first time.

The two of you are greeted with grins from all the students, the sight of your linked hands a welcome reprieve from everything bad that's happened so far. You hold on tight to Gojo until the very last minute, now all too aware of how awful it is to truly have him missing from your everyday life. You are unaware of what's to come.

You thought you were a pro when it came to grieving, but winning the last bet you ever made with Gojo has proved you wrong.

ty for reading. rbs appreciated <3

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojou x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk imagine #gojo imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojou imagine #satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojou angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo imagines

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crowofmidnightsworld · 3 days ago

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Cooling down | Zayne

Zayne x female reader Type: Smut, almost no plot Synopsis: It was summer. Linkon was hit by a heatwave and you decided to drop by Zayne's office to bring him some ice cream to cool down, but Zayne was the one who ended up helping you cool down. Warnings: MDNI, temperature play, restricion of movement, fingering, oral f!receiving Word count: 1.9

It was the third day in a row that Linkon city had an average temperature of 38°c and you felt like dying. But you knew that Zayne had it worse. You had a couple of days off from work and you could stay home with your AC, that had become your best friend, while Zayne had to work. With that in mind, you decided to do something good. You should definitely drop by his office and bring your favourite sweet tooth some ice cream. Little did you know how that visit would end.

With a tub of the sweetest chocolate ice cream you could find, you went to Asko Hospital. Yvonne and Greyson both jokingly had begged you to give them some too, well Yvonne was joking, but you knew Greyson had been serious about it. You somehow got away from him by telling him that you'd ask Zayne to share but that promise got lost, because of the situation you had found yourself in.

You were sitting on Zayne's desk, him in between your legs and somehow he had tied your wrists together behind your back with his tie. However that could've happened, you didn't even remember but you weren't going to complain. Zayne had been working all day and he had been so happy to see you, especially with that tub of ice cream but was craving something else. Or rather someone else.

"Walking here must've been torture in that heat", he murmured into your ear and he was right, but in that moment the heat you were feeling wasn't because of the temperature outside. Zayne gently moved his fingers along your neck and you let out a hiss at the sudden freezing cold sensation against your skin. Of course he'd use his evol. You had never even considered it, but the sound you made only caused Zayne to chuckle against your ear. Shivers ran down your spine and it wasn't just because of the cold sensation. "Can you do it again?". Your voice was shaky and soft, but Zayne quickly answered by running his fingertips against your neck again. This time taking his time and slowly moving his fingers down to your collarbone. "Anything to help my favourite Patient cool down".

Goosebumps covered your skin from head to toe and you hated that you couldn't move your arms. That you couldn't touch him. But Zayne enjoyed every single second of this. As his fingers continued trailing over your skin, he captured your mouth in a kiss, more desperate than it usually was. Not wanting to waste time, you moved your tongue across his bottom lip, pushing against it, and the sound Zayne made as he opened his mouth was heaven to you. His tongue immediately started pressing against yours, wanting to taste all of you and you let him. It wasn't the first time you and Zayne had done something in his office, but it was still thrilling every time you did.

As Zayne desperately continued kissing you, his hands moved underneath your top and when his cold fingers made contact with your warm skin there, you couldn't keep the gasp in. Your body immediately tried to move away from this sudden cold feeling, but Zayne immediately put his hands on your waist, holding you still. "There are so many more places I need to cool down, Love", he murmured against your lips this time, his voice even deeper than before and you knew that you were done for.

Your breathing quickened the moment Zayne's hands started to travel up and down your sides and he put his mouth on your neck. Kissing and nibbling on the spots that he just cooled down a bit. It felt like torture but you loved every single second of this. He was so skillful with his hands and it was evident to you every time he touched you. Ever so slowly, Zayne reached for your top and pulled it up, obviously not able to take it off completely since your hands were tied behind your back, but he made it work. Your chest was completely exposed and only your bra was keeping Zayne from seeing everything, but his breathing did stock when he saw your black, lacy bra.

"I wanted to surprise you tonight", your voice was nothing but a whisper, seeing how Zayne was looking at you. Reacting to you. Something in his eyes changed, which immediately made something in your warmest spot throb. "So pretty and all mine". There was a growl in his voice as he said this under his breath and just that could've made you finish on the spot. You could only watch as his hands moved to your chest and he pulled down your bra a bit, making your tits spill out.

Zayne didn't waste any time, immediately starting to tease you. His large hands cupping your tits, gently kneading the soft skin with his ice cold hands. It felt like heaven and hell at the same time, and you wanted more. "Let's see what happens when I do this". Even at this point, you weren't fast enough to think about what he meant, before his fingers moved over your nipples, hardening them within seconds. Another hiss escapes your lips, as Zayne started pinching them a little bit. "Fuck... This is...", you started but you couldn't even describe what you were feeling at this moment. You could feel the way Zayne started to smile against your neck, as he started kissing it again, and his fingers continued roaming over your bare skin.

You wanted more. You wanted to pull him closer, touch him, hold him. But you couldn't and it was driving you insane. While Zayne continued playing with your nipples, you could feel yourself getting hotter with every passing second, despite Zayne using his evol to cool you down. Wanting to satisfy the throbbing between your legs, you hooked one leg around Zayne's waist, trying to pull him closer this way. Trying to feel him against you. That attempt didn't quite work out for you, because Zayne immediately took a step back and all you were able to do was whine. "Someone's so needy today", he was mocking you. Teasing you. And while it didn't satisfy you, it did make you want him more.

God, Zayne loved seeing you like this. It was one of the few moments in which he had you wrapped around his fingers and he couldn't wait to see how you'd react to what he's going to do to you next. "I think we should take off those pants". And just like he said he would, he quickly moved to free you from your pants. Even in your compromising position, not able to help him, you suddenly felt yourself sitting on the desk completely bare. No pants and definitely no panties. At this point your heart was already about to burst out of your chest and Zayne noticed it all. The way your breathing picked up, how much you wanted him and especially the glistening wetness of your pussy.

When you first slept with Zayne, you had still been self conscious. You felt so exposed, when you were naked in front of him for the first time but now? You had grown accustomed to the way he'd look at you. The hunger in his eyes not a stranger to you anymore and now you couldn't wait anymore. Just like Zayne couldn't wait, as he knelt down in front of you, keenly inspecting your pussy. So wet and just for him.

The first contact of his cold fingers with your hot skin made you flinch, but Zayne quickly moved his free hand around you and held onto the small of your back. Holding you in place. Zayne couldn't stop thinking about how much he loved seeing you like this. How you'd react to every single one of his touches and how he could make you fall apart with them. At first he's gentle. His fingers slowly glided through your wet folds, before they landed on your clit and that's when he started to put some pressure into his touch. That alone almost made you lose your mind but then he started to blow against the very same spot he had just used his evol on, and all you could do was buck your hips toward him. The mixture of the coldness and his breath, making you feel like it's even colder and once again you hated that your wrists were tied together.

"Zayne, please!". You had never been above begging Zayne for something. Just like he had never been above begging, when you had him wrapped around your fingers. And Zayne wanted to make all of your wishes come true. That's why it didn't take long for you to feel his hot tongue against you. He was savoring every last inch of you, addicted to your taste and he was good at it. Using the perfect amount of pressure, sucking and sometimes nibbling on your clit, and then you felt his cold fingers again. "Let's see what happens when I do this". His words were muffled, because he had no intention of moving away from your pussy and then you already felt it. Zayne pushed two of his cold fingers into you, and that was a sensation you had never felt before.

The combination of his tongue and mouth working wonders and his cold fingers plunging in and out of you almost made your brain short circuit and Zayne knew exactly what he was doing. He moved his fingers at varying speed and with you pushing your hips more and more into his face, chasing the feeling, he knew that you were loving this. Tasting you, seeing you reacting to him like this, had made him so hard but he wanted this to be about you. Needed this to be about you. So he continued using his evol, pumping his fingers into you, lapping at your pussy until he felt you clenching around him.

"Mhmmm, come for me", he hummed against you and that only made you want to lose it even more. You had felt your climax building up the entire time but you were at your breaking point. Zayne was hitting all the right spots, playing you like a fiddle and that's when you lost it. That tight, delicious knot of feelings bursting and it truly felt like you were on fire. Your eyes rolled back as you bit down on your lip, trying not to scream out his name because you two were at the hospital after all, and you were shaking. Zayne's hold on your back became sturdier, knowing that you wouldn't be able to catch yourself if you fell back, and he didn't stop lapping at your pussy. Wanting to taste every single drop of you.

It took you a bit to ride out your climax and to calm down again, but Zayne was patient. He always had been. Once he was satisfied with watching you, knowing that you had come down from that high, he got up from the floor. At this point your brain was mush, only able to watch as he reached around you and untied your wrists. Zayne noticed that you were still trying to catch your breath, which is why he simply wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest. You were definitely tired out, but the feeling of Zayne around you made you smile. "Thank you for the ice cream". You felt a soft kiss being placed on your forehead, yet all you could do was giggle.

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