#this is all on my mind because recently i interacted with one of those like... twitter akechi stans who are in an echo chamber of

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The JJK men want YOU to wear their jersey

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, college au, sports au, mostly fluff and/or crack, suggestive only on Toji’s (nasty bitch), itafushi makes an appearance

An: This has been heavy on my brain recently 🙂‍↕️ Also, I don’t know if this concept is only in like my area, but basically, the concept is that on game days, a common thing for highschool/college players to do is to wear their jersey to class, and their sweetheart wears their home/away jersey. it’s just a cute thing to show support. Another thing, I know Kamo is not Choso’s last name, and I know Sukuna is not Sukuna’s last name. Sukuna might not even be Sukuna’s name at all. idk and idc. this is a no curse au anyways so who cares! let me know if i should do more sports au :)

Incl - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

SATORU

Girls will literally hunt Satoru down to get his jersey from him, and if you were the lucky girl who got to wear the jersey of the star quarterback… you either became instantly popular, or every girl in the university wanted to kill you.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I already have someone in mind.” Satoru flashed a grin towards the crowd of girls surrounding his seat. Disappointed sighs and whines emitted from the group as they slowly dissipated from his desk.

Satoru couldn’t care less. They could be mad at him if they wanted to. They were no where near as special as the girl he had his eyes set on.

Class had yet to start, and Satoru was growing tired of just staring at the back of your head. He finally got up, and he slumped down in the chair next to you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked with a bright smile. He hadn’t interacted with you much, but he always had his eye on you. You were the one of the few girls who didn’t dumb down their intelligence for him to make themselves more appealing.

“It’s not.” You replied shortly. You weren’t rude, just incredibly matter-of-fact.

“Wanna make a bet with me?” Satoru asked as he tried to catch your eyes from your book. He was really pining for your attention, and you wouldn’t pass him a second glance.

“Not really.” You replied, not looking up from your book.

“I bet the professor will be twenty minutes late.” Satoru went on anyways, not taking your rejection to heart.

“Hmm. Doubtful. He’s normally prompt.” You say finally looking up at Satoru, which causes him to flash an easy smile. He’s happy to have your attention — now he wants to keep it.

“If he isn’t here within the next twenty minutes, you have to wear my jersey today and every game day for the rest of the season. If he makes it here before twenty minutes is up, I’ll buy you as many books as you can carry.” Satoru proposes as he taps on your book with a cheeky grin.

You think for a moment… all the books you can carry?? “Deal.” You say with a smile, offering your hand to him to shake on it — thinking you just easily won yourself a free shopping spree. Satoru takes your hand, and he gently shakes it before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

He’s already won.

Satoru knows that you’ll be wearing his jersey today, and you’ll wear his colors for the rest of the season. He’ll make more bets… win you over slowly with false bets. Oh, he’ll buy you all those books you want too just because he can.

He’s already set Geto in motion to go run into your professor with large cups of coffees in his hand. Your professor ended up cancelling class after being 25 minutes late.

When the group of girls sees you with “GOJO” written on the back of your jersey, their faces contort in utter disdain, but Satoru looks at it with a shit-eating grin on his face. He won.

SUGURU

Suguru really didn’t get the thing about giving a girl his jersey on game days. Basketball season is pretty ruthless. While football teams only have 12 games in a season, basketball teams play over 30. That’s 30 days in one season that he’d have to find a girl that he gave enough of a shit about to give his jersey to? No thanks.

Of course, if he had a girlfriend it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but the whole attitude around giving a girl your jersey was just something Suguru didn’t subscribe to.

Well, he didn’t think he subscribed to it until he saw one of his teammates offering you their jersey.

Maybe on a more psychological level, this was territory marking, and Suguru would be damned if he sat back and let another man mark you as their territory.

Even though he’s not proud of it, Suguru immediately marched straight up to you and his teammate with his away jersey thrown over his shoulder. He placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, and he gave his teammate a piercing look with his violet eyes. His lips curled into an easy smirk.

“Sorry man, she’s already agreed to wear my jersey today, isn’t that right angel?” He asked in such a condescending tone, and his fingertips dig into your skin with just enough pressure to make your face flush.

Luckily for Suguru, you were into it — and not his teammate. “Yeah, sorry. I almost forgot.” You agree, giving his teammate an empathetic smile.

So no, Suguru doesn’t get the idea of giving his jersey to a girl on game days, but he does get the idea of giving you his jersey. He loves how he towers behind you in the halls, seeing the name “GETO” written on your back with his number. He loves remembering the way you easily went along with his plan. You just fit him.

NANAMI

Nanami doesn’t need antics to get you to wear his baseball jersey.

Plenty of girls pine for Kento. Who wouldn’t? He was the leading star of the baseball team… who’s ass just so happened to look so good in those white tight-fitting pants.

Your college certainly played into it, giving Nanami the big screen when he takes off his helmet and shakes out his messy blonde hair that a bit damp from sweat. His cheeks are smeared with his eye black smeared on his cheeks (the charcoal black lines that athletes sometimes have).

They knew what they were doing when the yearbook crew took professional level pictures of Nanami looking absolutely jaw-dropping while delivering the nastiest pitch.

He was like eye candy that enticed a bunch of girls to buy tickets to the baseball games, and dammit, it worked.

Despite his celebrity status at the school, Kento didn’t act above anyone else. He didn’t flaunt money or act posh and sophisticated like a lot of the wannabes did at your university.

He was down to earth, smart, caring, and humorous to the right group of people (the dry humor enjoyers). Kento was the type of man to be able to reject someone without them even feeling rejected, which he did a lot when girls would ask for his jersey.

You often came to baseball games to watch (to watch nanami lets bffr), but you weren’t bold enough to ask Kento for his jersey on game days. You had witness girls before you, pilgriming the way to Nanami before they turn back empty handed. You couldn’t risk the heartache.

It wasn’t until one day after class you and Kento were the only two still packing up after a lecture, he casually strolled to your desk. “Will you be at the game tonight?” He asked with a genuine air of curiosity to him. This wasn’t awkward forced conversation because you two were the only two people in a room together.

You hadn’t even known that Nanami noticed you, much less noticed your attendance at games. You could feel your heart start to thud obscenely loud in your chest as you came to terms that you’re not invisible in Kento’s life.

“Yeah, I think I’ll show up…” You try your hardest to sound casual, but you just sound terribly nervous.

“I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He said politely before he reached into his bag and pulled out his spare jersey. “Hopefully wearing this..?”

Your eyes widen as you realize he was offering his jersey to you. “That- are you sure? Me?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He gives an honest laugh. His multimillion dollar smile makes you swoon, and he hands his jersey out again. “You should put it on now. That’s the tradition, right?”

You slowly slip the jersey on over your long-sleeved white top, and it definitely hangs loosely on you, but with a few tucks and adjustments, it finally sits on your body appropriately.

“It looks good on you. I’ll see you tonight.” Kento smiles before leaving the classroom.

You had never gotten more shocked stares than when girls saw you with “NANAMI” printed across your back.

CHOSO

“Hey Yuji, why does Megumi wear your jersey on game days?” Choso asked his teammate as he sat down on the bench in the locker room.

He had seen quite a few people - guys and girls who weren’t on the basketball team wearing the jerseys of his teammates, but he didn’t understand it. He figured he’d ask the one teammate who he considered to be more of a brother to explain.

“Because I make him.” Yuji laughed as he dried his pink hair off from the shower. It was a pretty brutal practice, even Choso’s raven hair was down, messy from sweat.

Choso furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you do that-? I thought you liked him.”

Yuji laughed even harder as Choso clearly didn’t understand the dynamic he had with Megumi. He also clearly didn’t understand the concept behind giving someone his jersey.

“I do like him, so I like seeing him wearing my jersey on game days. I think he looks good in it too, even if he pretends to hate it. I know he likes showing his support.” Yuji explained, but he went on, “People give their jerseys to someone they like. It’s like a courting gift, and it lets everyone know your intentions with that person.”

Choso nodded as he began to understand. He should give his jersey to someone he liked - to someone he wanted to court, and his intentions would be made known.

That’s how shy, timid Choso ended up at your dorm door late one evening. After much encouragement and convincing from Yuji, he finally gave your door a soft knock, and Yuji ran around the corner to hide.

When you opened the door, looking at Choso with those big pretty eyes, he completely clammed up and forgot the mental script he had prepared about how he really liked you, and it’d mean a lot to him if you wore his jersey.

Instead, “I want my intentions known.” He nearly shouted as he gestured his jersey to you.

Yuji facepalmed around the corner.

You blinked a few times, looking down at the jersey then back up to him. He was lucky that you’re very good at filling in the blanks. “You want me to wear your jersey, Cho?” You asked with a small laugh before taking the jersey from his hands.

His cheeks were flushed, and he gave you an awkward smile before nodding his head vigorously. “And uh.. I want to court you.” He finally added all in one breath.

To Choso’s delight, you agreed, and now, he finally understands the real reasoning behind giving his jersey to someone he likes because seeing “KAMO” on your back makes him feel all dizzy with love and adoration.

TOJI

It started off as a small prank amongst girls. A prank that really pissed Toji off. A group of girls decided it would be cute to steal Toji’s spare hockey jersey and wear it without his knowledge.

When Toji saw one of the girls wearing his stolen jersey with his appalling last name printed on the back, he was livid.

Needless to say, he got his jersey back, and the girl couldn’t even look him in the eye after that whole experience.

He hated his jersey. He hated how his last name was on the back, and he hated how anyone else would want to wear it.

He couldn’t just get rid of his spare jersey. Then, he’d owe the school even more than what he already owes them. He couldn’t trust to keep it in his dorm because he didn’t put it past those bitches to try to sneak into his dorm to get their filthy hands on it. That was when he had a genius idea.

“Wear my jersey.” His gruff voice demanded as he dropped the fabric on the table in front of you, his too responsible friend.

“No, it probably stinks.” You pushed the jersey aside, trying to focus on the homework in front of you.

“Nah. It smells like the last bitch who stole it.” He remarked as he plopped down in a chair in front of your desk.

“Even worse.” You respond back unamused, still not giving Toji the time of day.

“Do you remember who hunted down the fuck who stole your headphones?”

You sighed, finally looking up at Toji to show that you were paying attention. “Why do you think me wearing your jersey will deter them?”

“Maybe they’ll think you’re my girl and piss off for a while. I don’t know, but if I see another preppy bitch wearing it without my knowledge, I’m going to burn it.” Toji’s voice sounded stressed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And you don’t mind them thinking that?” You inquire, raising your eyebrow.

“Doll, you know I’ve spent the last three years trying to get you to hop on my-“

“Eughhh, give it.” You interrupt Toji before he can go into any further detail, snatching his jersey up and putting it on over your clothes. “There. Happy?”

Toji didn’t expect to have such a reaction to seeing you in his jersey. He knew he was serious about liking you, no matter how much you liked to believe that he didn’t actually like you, but seeing you in his jersey — the way it swallowed you whole. He figured he’d still hate seeing his last name on you, but there was something satiating those deep primal urges when he caught a glimpse of “ZENIN” across your back.

SUKUNA

Sukuna is much comparable to a dragon. He sees something pretty and shiny (you): he wants it all for himself. He wants to hoard treasure (you) to keep, and he definitely does not like the idea of anyone else looking or touching his treasure.

So, how does he keep wandering eyes off his treasure? He cloaks her in his favor, making her brandish his last name on her back along with his number. Yes, Sukuna demanded for you to wear his football jersey.

There was just enough satisfaction of seeing you walk around campus with “SUKUNA” written on your back that kept him from trying to hoard you in his room.

Oh, he’s also like a dragon in the sense that he’s absolutely devastating out on the field.

[savage-rhi]

🫂

[apple-os]

wondering if i can make a strict-ruled fanfic site cause im sick of finding proship shit everywhere

anybody know how tf id do that or find someone to code it fer me

[nebulaleaf]

heehee hoo hoo procrastinating things so i rant here

[exopelagic]

talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep

[earthtooz]

jealous ratio because i really like him like that, fluff, reader is a menace

“who gave you those flowers?” 

ratio’s voice is demanding and snarky, eyes ablaze with a similar kind of disgust when you walk into your home with a bouquet in your arms. putting your keys on the counter, you greet him with your usual smile and prance over to place a kiss on his scowling expression.

which softens momentarily at the feel of your lips on his skin.

“hi, veritas,” you greet.

“welcome home, love,” he murmurs in return, smiling when looking at you, but the scowl returns when he makes eye contact with the flowers. “who gave you these?”

“aventurine did.”

the world freezes over with ratio’s silent rage and you’re the only one untouched despite being the catalyst. searching for a vase nearby, you’re more than content to let his possessiveness simmer, in fact, it’s something you are used to now.

when you manage to dig up an empty vase from a cabinet nearby, ratio’s footsteps scurry towards you.

“you’re keeping them?” he asks.

“why wouldn’t i? they’re a gift.”

“a gift? 

he’s fuming, absolutely fuming now as he watches you fret over the bouquet, trimming the ends, putting water in the bot, arranging them to look nice and lovely, all whilst your lover stared at you hawkishly. you pretend not to notice the way his eye twitches occasionally, allowing him to watch you work.

his mind must be working at a million thoughts per second, so you’ll just let him be until he can talk to you again.

“why did he give you flowers? there must be an occasion that i am unaware of.”

after finishing your final touches, you turn around with all the garbage in your hands and walk past the scholar. he follows. “to say thanks. he recently consulted me for one of his projects and the results were fruitful, so he bought me a bouquet in gratitude.” 

pink roses. last time ratio read, they were supposed to symbolise gratitude, the ideal choice to send to someone who has helped you. 

“well. if that’s the case then he owes me a planet’s worth of flowers.”

“lighten up, veritas, he was just being friendly.”

“friendly?” he all but snaps. 

“yes, friendly. is there an issue with that?” 

“that gambler being friendly implies to him being up to no good.” he attaches himself to your hip, hovering over you as you make a mug of coffee. “he is a menace, an undesirable anomaly, a type one error, i advise you keep your interactions with him limited. only one of us should need to deal with his antics so i suppose i’ll have to bite the bullet on this one, darling.”

“you are so brave, my hero. are you done? anymore talk about aventurine and i might just think you’re in love with him.” ratio splutters at your wild accusations, missing the way you smile under your breath. then, you throw your arms around the scholar and he doesn’t return the embrace, still dumbfounded. “i missed you and the first thing you do when i come home is talk about another man.”

he scoffs, lifting you up onto the kitchen counter. there, he rests his hands on either sides of the counter beside you. “your mouth is twice as foul as his.”

“and yet you still love me.”

“marginally.”

“you!”

tomorrow, you return home to a luxurious bouquet of red roses sitting on the kitchen island.

i'm writing this as a pregame to the diluc fic i have in the works.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[matchingbatbites]

"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie- 

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 :)

[krkiiz]

take a chance with me . luke castellan x reader

you decide to confront luke about your current situationship with him.

luke castellan x f!reader , reader is the daughter of Athena , crack , misunderstandings , “what are we” , “i thought we’re already dating” , fluff with slight angst , overthinking , kisses , them being sappy , nicknames

note : can’t stop falling in love with this evil betrayer smh. inspired by niki’s song “take a chance with me” ! (IM SORRY IF THIS IS CRINGE this is my first time writing kiss scenes help 😭😭😭😭)

let me know your thoughts ! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated <3

“It’s getting dark. Let me walk you back to your cabin, yeah?” The dark haired boy smiled at you.

Gods how you loved that smile of his.

It’s a tradition of yours. Him walking you back to your cabin after your outings. The two of you walk hand in hand as your near the Athena cabin.

You and Luke had been acquainted for quite some time. You both first met when you arrived in camp for the first time.

You were fifteen back then. Time passed by as fast Zeus’ lightning strikes as summers blurred after summers. In a blink of an eye, you guys were both eighteen now. Adults, no longer those carefree teenagers that relied on your counselors.

During those three years of friendship, you and Luke only got closer. It was hard to admit, and after an excruciating time of denial (and constant pestering from your half siblings including Annabeth), you finally surrendered and admitted the growing feelings you harbored for your close friend.

You’re too afraid to confess your feelings as you treasured your friendship with him deeply. You would gush about how sweet he is to Annabeth, rolling yourself on your bed as blood rushed to your cheeks at the thought of him.

Little did you know he was doing the exact same thing. Confiding to Annabeth about your recent encounters, eyes lit up rivaling the shine of Apollo himself as he thinks of you.

Poor girl. Annabeth was sick of it.

But this summer, you felt a shift in your dynamic with the curly haired boy. He would eat lunch with you more often, asking you to go on more hangouts, challenged you on more duels, battles. It felt different, closer.

You were not complaining, matter of fact you were quite glad. Maybe your feelings wasn’t just one sided after all.

But as time move forwards, the closer you two get, more couple-ey interaction commends. He would tuck your hand behind your ear as you both converse, intwining your hands when your in the same path, calling you nicknames.

The more your relationship with him progressed, the more it blurred the line between friends and more. At this point, you knew he had feelings for you as well, and he too was well aware of yours.

A bubble of thought soon started clouding your mind. What were you both now? Friends? Close friends? Lovers? You don’t remember Luke asking you to be his girlfriend.

What was the nature this relationship?

You feel his grip on yours loosening as you stopped near the grey building of Cabin 6. “This is it for you, princess.”

Words rolled of his tongue like honey and you felt like a honeybee, drawn to its sweetness.

Friends don’t call each other nicknames.

Luke placed a gentle hand on your cheek, drawing closer has he placed his lips on your temple, as if he was kissing your thoughts away. “What’s got you thinking so hard since we started walking, hm?”

Your cheeks lit up like campfire at his action, he smiled noticing your flushed state.

Cute

You look up to the curly haired boy, his fingers still pressed on your cheek. What are we, Luke?

What if Luke suddenly doesn’t want you anymore because of that question?

Were you too selfish by wanting more?

Was this not enough for you?

No it wasn’t. You want to draw a clear like between friends and more, and Luke and you were shoveling a deep hole in the middle of said line.

What if he fears commitment and disappears?

“Oh no, it’s nothing Luke.” You shook your head away from his grasp, pushing all your thoughts away. “It’s late, I should probably get in.”

But before you can turn away from him, Luke was quick to grab your hand, not letting you go any further. “No, Yn. Something is clearly bothering you. And I don’t want you to go to bed with an unpleasant feeling.”

He squeezed your held hands. “Please, Yn. Is it something I’ve done?”

You were quick to deny him. “It’s not, Luke. I don’t even know it’s just. I don’t know, confusing? I think complicated is the right word.”

The dark haired boy brought your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing your forearm softly. “It’s okay take your time, darling. I’m listening.”

You sighed seeing him caress your hand gently as he brushed his lips on the skin. “It’s about us, Luke.”

Dark hues make contact with your own. “What about us?”

“What are we Luke? I don’t even know anymore.” You retracted your hand from his grasp, frustration getting a hold on you. “Friends don’t hold hands while they walk, friends don’t kiss each other’s foreheads, or hands, or even call each other nicknames.”

You look up to see the confusion written clearly on his face. “What are we, Luke Castellan?” You asked once more.

There was a moment of silent and you dreaded it. Each passing second you can hear the rustling wind, chirps of birds, and the sound of your heart falling into your stomach.

Before he finally broke it. A wholehearted chuckle graced his lips, creasing his eyes.

You scrunched your eyebrows at his reaction. Clearly displeased. Were you some joke to him?

“Luke, this is serious, why are you laughing right now?”

He quickly straightened his composure after hearing your tone. “Ehem, wait sorry. You’re serious? Is this what you’ve been worrying about?”

“Well yeah. What’s so funny about it? Am I just some joke to you?”

“No no! Yn, wait.” He placed both of his hand above your shoulders. Eyes peered at yours before genuinely asking. “Haven’t we been dating for like two months now?”

What? Confusion warps your face.

“Yn, remember? Two months ago when I took you on a picnic by the lake? I asked if you wanted to be together and you agreed to it, remember?” He tried to recall your memory.

Then it snapped.

“Oh, that was a confession? I thought you meant it in a friendly way.” Luke mentally face palmed himself and you sheepishly giggled.

“Okay maybe I was too vague with my words so let’s redo it right now yeah?” You tilted your head at him.

The dark haired boy took both of your hands from your sides, lacing them into his. “Yn L/n, daughter of Athena, one of the best warriors I’ve ever seen, wisest and the most just ever, will you take the pleasure of being my girlfriend?”

You unwind your laced fingers, your hands moving, circling themselves around the nape of his neck as his hands are now placed on the sides your waist, drawing you closer. “Hm will I?” You teased him lightly.

“Please?”

“I guess you got yourself a girlfriend, Castellan.”

You laughed against his chest. And you can feel his ribcage expanding was he laughed along with you.

You tilt your head above, standing on the tips of your toes, as you pulled him even closer than before. Your noses touch at the proximity and you could feel his breath on yours. “Is this why you’ve never kissed me before?” you hear him whisper.

“Well I am doing it right now.” You pull him in, his lips crashing with your own. His grip on your waist tightened as your hands made its way to the softness of his curls. Eyes tightly shut as you both bask in the bliss of ecstasy before pulling apart.

He leaned his forehead against yours. Giving your lip a small peck as he craves for more of you. “I don’t know if this is not obvious yet but I like you, so so much, my Yn.”

You softly giggled. “I like you just as much, my prince.”

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

changes

dbf!loganxgrown!reader

a/n: my first resquest! i hope you like it <3 send me more requests pls pls!

wc:2.5k

FLUFF, AGE GAP, TABOO RELATIONSHIP

summary: you've had enough of the tension between you and Logan, your dad's best friend, so you decided to go confront him about it.

It’s funny how the past creeps up on you. One minute, you’re just a kid with scraped knees and big dreams, and the next, you’re staring down the barrel of decisions you swore you’d never make. But life’s got a way of pushing you into corners, and before you know it, you’re crossing lines you didn’t even know were there.

Logan’s always been a fixture in my life, like the smell of cigar smoke that clings to the walls long after the flame’s been snuffed out. A constant. Steady. Safe, in a way that most people never are. My dad’s best friend, the man who taught me how to throw a punch and how to take one. He was always there, just on the periphery, watching out for me in that quiet, gruff way of his.

But things change. People change. Or maybe, it’s just me. Because somewhere along the way, the way I look at him shifted. The safe, familiar lines blurred, and now I’m seeing things I wasn’t supposed to see—feeling things I wasn’t supposed to feel.

It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing full well that one wrong step could send you plummeting, but you can’t bring yourself to step back. And Logan… he’s the kind of danger you run toward, not away from.

I know better. I should know better. But when I’m around him, all that common sense goes up in smoke. Just like the end of his cigar, burning slow, smouldering—until there’s nothing left but ash.

You put down your pen with a heavy sigh.

Your diary, the safekeeping for all your thoughts and worries, had recently become your go-to place for your impure thoughts as well.

A part of you wished you could go back to the way it was before. It was simpler, more moral, and occupied a lot less of your mind than it did now.

But something had shifted between the two of you when you became a woman. 

The way you looked at him was a big one. Now that you were in the adult dating pool as well, you couldn’t help but notice that Logan was an attractive man and a single one too.

You obsessively questioned why that was because, to you, he was the complete package; More than just tall, dark, and handsome. 

You would catch yourself stealing glances when he wasn’t looking, the way his chest and abdominal muscles flexed beneath his shirt when he moved. The protruding veins of his forearms and hands, how his fingers were covered in callouses from work.

You had memorized the way his voice dipped into a low grumble when he said your name, how his hazel eyes darkened with something unspoken when they met yours.

The way he spoke to you also took a drastic turn. Keeping the conversation preferably to small talk, or once in a while he’d tease you and call you those annoying pet names from when you were little:

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart.” 

“Come on princess, take a joke,” 

“Kid, you’re gonna be the death of me.”  

Another thing was the way you interacted with each other; you weren’t jumping into his arms as soon as he stepped through the door or being picked up and settled into his lap anymore, it was just a nod of acknowledgement or a slight touch on your lower back if he needed to pass by you.

Even the littlest amount of contact didn’t stop you from imagining what it would feel like if he didn’t stop himself from touching you. What it would feel like if he let go of that last thread of restraint that keeps him just out of reach.

When you lay alone at night, you couldn’t help but think about sitting on that lap again one day.

The lines between right and wrong blur every time he’s near now. It’s dangerous, this game you’re both playing in your heads.

The last time he’d been over, fixing something for your dad, you couldn’t help but notice how his gaze lingered on you a moment too long. How the air seemed to crackle with tension when you were alone in the room together.

“You alright bub’?” he’d tried to play it casually but his eyes… his eyes told a different story.

Bub, the nickname he had given you when you were younger.

“Yeah, just watching you,” you’d bit your lip, keeping your gaze locked on his. 

He nodded, but the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands gripped the wrench a little harder, told you everything you needed to know. You could feel the weight of his gaze on your back as you left the room, your heart pounding in your chest, knowing he felt it too—the pull, the magnetic force that kept you two stealing glances here and there. 

You close the diary with a soft thud as if shutting the book could somehow lock away the thoughts swirling in your head. But the truth is, there’s no escaping them—not when every interaction with Logan leaves you trembling with a flame you cannot control.

And now, sitting in your room, your diary clutched to your chest like a lifeline, you know it’s only a matter of time before something gives. 

There is no better time than the present after all…Fuck it.

With a deep breath, you push yourself off the bed and glance at the clock. It’s late, but you know Logan’s still awake—he always is.

 Part of you was set on going to see him now, to see if the tension you’ve been imagining is real, if he’ll react the same way as you will.

But another part of you, the part that remembers the little girl who used to jump into his arms without a second thought, holds you back. 

Because once you took that step, there was no going back to the way things were before.

And maybe that’s what scared you the most.

You slipped out of your apartment, clutching your car keys so tightly that the metal might bend under the pressure.

 What were you doing? You weren’t entirely sure yourself, but it felt as if your body was on autopilot—drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Finding your car, you slid into the driver’s seat, your fingers trembling as you shot Logan a quick text.

Y/N: You up?

Your leg bounced nervously as you waited for his reply. How would he react? Would his voice of reason prevail, or would he finally admit to feeling the same pull that you did?

A moment later, your phone buzzed. Logan responded with a simple thumbs-up emoji.

Very on brand. 

Simple, efficient, and direct. You thought.

With his green light, you pulled out of the parking garage and drove towards his log cabin up at Deer Lake. The hum of the engine was the only sound breaking the stillness of the night. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded against your ribcage, a steady rhythm that matched the thoughts racing through your mind. 

You couldn’t stop replaying the last time you’d been alone with him, the way his eyes had lingered on yours just a fraction too long, the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw when your fingers brushed his as he handed you something.

Was tonight the night everything would change?

As you turned onto the narrow, winding road that led to his place, the dense trees seemed to close in around you, the darkness thickening with each passing second.

The familiarity of the path did little to ease your nerves; if anything, it only heightened the anticipation. 

You’d been here countless times before, but tonight was different. Tonight, you weren’t just visiting a family friend—you were venturing into no man's land.

Finally, the cabin came into view, the warm glow of the porch light spilling out into the cold night air.

You parked the car and took a deep breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as you tried to steady yourself. 

There was still time to turn back, to pretend this had all been a bad idea, a fleeting moment of weakness.

But deep down, you knew you weren’t going to, you knew you didn’t want to.

With a quiet resolve, you stepped out of the car and made your way up the steps to his door. The sound of gravel crunching beneath your boots seemed louder in the stillness of the night.

You hesitated for a moment at the door, your hand raised to knock, when it suddenly swung open, revealing Logan standing there, backlit by the soft light from inside.

He was dressed in his usual white tank top and denim jeans. His tall presence filled the doorway, broad shoulders and familiar, rugged face, but it was the look in his eyes that held you captive. There was a flicker of something there—something that mirrored the pressure in your chest.

“Kid,” he said, his voice low and steady, but you could hear the tension beneath it.

“Can I come in?” You mumbled shyly. 

He nodded,  and you stepped past him into the cabin. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and suddenly the world outside felt very far away. It was as if you’d crossed over into a place where nothing but the two of you existed.

You followed Logan deeper into the cabin, the warmth from the fireplace offering a sharp contrast to the cold, restless night outside. He leaned against the table, returning his glass of whiskey in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to break the silence. “Logan… can we talk?”

He took a swig and looked up, his hazel eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. “‘Bout what?”

You hesitated, then stepped closer, your heart racing. “Logan, I see the way you look at me.”

He took a swig of his drink.

“... it’s okay. I’ve been looking too.” You stepped closer. 

“I know, sweetheart,” He looked down into his drink. “...hard to ignore what’s goin' on between us.” 

Your breath hitched: he acknowledged it. 

“It is hard, and it’s driving me crazy... we can’t keep pretending like there’s nothing here. I like you, a lot, and I know it’s wrong but I can’t help it.” You fiddled with your fingers. 

“Kid,” he began, his voice gruff, “it ain’t wrong to feel what you’re feelin’. Not with the way that things have changed between us.”

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as you took another step closer, the tension between you thickening with each breath. “Then why have you been pulling away? Why do you keep acting like we can just ignore this?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing as if he was trying to find the right words. “I’ve been tryin’ to protect you…. Things ain’t as simple as they used to be. You’re not a little girl anymore, and I’m… well, I’m me. There’s a lot of weight that comes with this, darlin’. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it too.”

Your heart ached at his words, and a relieved sigh escaped your body. “I don’t care about the weight, Logan. I just… I want to figure this out with you. I want us to be honest about what we’re feeling, even if it’s messy.”

Logan’s expression softened, a hint of vulnerability showing through his tough exterior. “You’re sure about this, princess? Once we open this door, there ain’t no goin’ back.”

You nodded, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I’m sure. I want to see where this goes. I don’t want to keep pretending.”

Logan took a deep breath and pulled you close to him by your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you. “Alright, we’ll take it slow and figure it out as we go.” 

Logan’s gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. The warmth of his hand on your waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft crackle of the fire—all of it faded into the background as you both stood there, suspended in the tension of what was about to happen.

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the war between the desire he’d been holding back and the protective instinct that had kept him at a distance for so long. But as you leaned in closer, closing the gap between you, something in his resolve seemed to break.

His hand moved from your waist to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart swoon. Your breath caught as his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission.

You answered by closing the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both gentle and intense, like the release of a storm that had been building for far too long. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The kiss deepened, a slow exploration of all the feelings you’d both been holding back. There was a rawness to it, a hunger that had been denied for too long, but also a softness, an unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady yourselves. Logan’s hand remained on your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as if he was memorizing the moment.

“Damn, kid,” he murmured, You could smell the whiskey on his breath. “That was...”

“Yeah,” you whispered, unable to find the words to describe what you were feeling. “It was.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours, and in them, you saw a mixture of relief, longing, and something deeper—something that told you that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Without a word, Logan’s hands slid down to your thighs, and with a strength that always amazed you, he lifted you effortlessly. A small gasp escaped your lips as he carried you over to the worn leather armchair by the fire, he settled you in his lap, just like you’d been longing for.

The warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. Logan held you close, his hand resting on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

“What now?” he asked with a grin, his voice a little more seductive now as if the kiss had made it harder for him to hold back.

“What happened to start slow?” You tightened your grip around his neck. 

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, savouring every moment. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this—just the two of you and the beginning of something you both knew you’d been waiting for.

ty so much for your request reader <3

🏷️: @megangovier, @back2thebasics

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[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Exposed

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader summary: You come back from a mission with a tear in your suit. Miguel's reaction to what he sees underneath surprises you in the best way. tags / warnings: smut (minors do not interact!), p in v, fem reader, sassy spider-reader word count: 2.3k

You were coming back from a successful mission. Anomaly eliminated. No casualties. Well, except your spider-suit. An annoyingly claw-y bad guy had swiped at you from behind, and even though you’d just managed to dodge his attack, he’d nicked your suit and sliced a long strip of it down your side, from your back all the way down to the top of your thigh. Half your ass cheek was exposed, but you were so exhausted it was beyond you to care. You’d be suit-free and in bed soon enough. You just had to report in to Miguel first. He’d ordered you to because this had been a “potentially significant anomaly.” There seemed to be more and more of those recently. And he seemed to be assigning them mostly to you. You didn’t know of any other spiders that had to report to him personally after missions so often. 

You could feel the cold on your lower back as you walked up to his HQ platform, it slowly descending in front of you. You hop up as soon as it’s low enough, wasting no time. Miguel’s back is to you as he watches what seems like a million screens at once.

“Mission successful, spider-boss.” “Don’t call me that.” You knew he hated that nickname. That’s why you kept using it. 

“You prefer spider-captain? Spider-chief? Oooh maybe spider-king? No, that doesn’t sound right. Aren’t spiders more matriarchal anyway? You could be spider-queen if you want. Has a bit of a bite to it.” “Y/N,” he deadpans. “Hm?” “Shut up.” “Yes, sir, spider-queen!” 

He finally turns around to look at you, exasperation all over his chiseled features. You catch the end of his eye roll. Knowing engaging will only get more out of you, he opts to go straight to business. “You eliminated the anomaly?” “Yup.”

“Cleaned up the contamination afterward?” “Like the top-class interdimensional janitor that I am.”

“Anything unusual?” “Well, there was this big scary dude with giant claws that was only ever black and white when the rest of the world was especially colorful. Soo that was weird.” “I mean other than the exact reason I sent you there in the first place.” He runs his hand over his face, the other on his hip, looking sassier than he probably intended. “Oh! Then no.” 

You come over to his desk, leaning on it.

“And you’re alright? No injuries or anything?” In the back of your mind, you notice his voice softening as he asks you this. 

“I’m good. More than I can say for my suit though,” you laugh. You lift from the desk, turning slightly, twisting to look at the tear, exposing it to Miguel. “Why’s it called ‘tearing someone a new one,’ huh? Doesn’t make any sense. I need a new one specifically because this one’s torn.” 

You don’t expect him to respond to your stupid question, but when you look up at Miguel, the look on his face is more than unexpected. His eyebrows are shot up, his mouth the slightest bit ajar, his eyes fixed intently on your exposed ass. 

For once, you have no idea what to say. Why was he looking at you like that? Were you in trouble? Just because this was a bit inappropriate? I mean, c’mon, you were all spider-people; you’d all had your fair share of injuries that needed patching up and the like. It felt like a big sports team: bodies rendered just bodies by the heat of battle. Of course, you’d never admit to anyone out loud that while that was true for all the other spiders in your eyes, Miguel was the sole exception. His body could never be just a body. It was too imposing… too striking… too beautiful. You caught yourself staring at him much more often than you liked. Always talked incessantly when he was around to keep yourself distracted and from looking like an idiot. Well, you still looked like an idiot after everything you said, but you were an idiot on your own terms, usually getting some laughs while you were at it. 

“Miguel?” You come up with nothing else. 

Your voice snaps him out of his trance. His eyes shoot up to your face, and he looks — what is that? you’d never seen that look on Miguel O’Hara… was it… flustered?

“Um, yes, uh, right. Your suit,” he’s looking around at his screens again, trying to look busy but you can tell his gaze isn’t actually taking in any of the images. “We’ll get you a new one.” 

The tension lessened and, more importantly, his eyes no longer on you give you back a bit of your confidence. 

“You in charge of tailoring too? You really gotta learn to delegate, spider-boss.” He doesn’t say anything. Not even with you specifically trying to push his buttons with the nickname. “Okayy…” you elongate. “So, can I go now?”

He just grunts, not sparing another look toward you.

You start walking back across the platform but remember a detail of the mission you had wanted to tell him before making it too far. 

“Oh, there was this thing with my watch —“ you start, but all words get caught in your throat when you see Miguel as you turn back toward him. He’s staring at you like a viscous predator just about to pounce. His chin is down but his eyes are on you, even darker than usual and penetrating. You can tell by the rise and fall of his ridiculously broad chest that his breathing is a bit labored. He’d clearly been looking lower than your face level, as his eyes shoot up to yours when you look at him.

Neither of you say anything for what feels like the longest, heaviest moment of your life so far. Then, in what feels like the quickest, he’s closed the distance between you, coming to a stop just in front of you, closer than he’s ever been to you before.

He’s towering over you. Any movement forward at all and you’d be touching. You’re sure he can feel your heavy breathing as you look up at him. You can feel his.  

He looks like he wants to murder you. But Miguel O’Hara has a way of encoding all emotions into shades of anger and aggression. And you’ve watched him closely enough for long enough to sometimes think you have an idea of what lies beneath. You haven’t cracked it completely, but you certainly see shades of gray where others see black and white. 

The stakes have never been quite this high for your getting it wrong, but hoping beyond hope that you know what he actually wants, you push your face the fraction of a distance to his, crashing your lips together. 

From the moment they graze, his hands are on you, groping your exposed ass with one, pulling you into him with the other. He devours your mouth, so feral you even worry for a split second about his fangs coming out. You’re so consumed by him you probably wouldn’t mind if they did.

Not breaking apart from you, Miguel takes the few steps back to his desk, dragging you with him. When the backs of his thighs come up to the desk, he flips you around so that you’re pushed up against it. You’re caged between it and his broad body as his hands continue exploring your body, his tongue continues exploring your mouth. 

At this point you can feel the huge bulge between his legs pressing against you, his spider-suit doing nothing to hide it, doing little to separate you from it. 

When his mouth leaves yours, dragging hungrily down to your jaw and neck, you whine his name. He groans in response, and you feel the vibrations where your chests are flush.

Taking the opportunity to do something you’d often dreamed of, you lift your hand and run it through his thick hair. His moans get louder, and you take it as a sign scratch and tug harder. 

You know you didn’t pull strongly enough to move him if he didn’t want to be moved, but he pops off from where he’s sucking on your neck and looks into your eyes. He gives you a harsh kiss then says simply, “Turn around.” You do. He bends you over his desk.

You feel his hands on your hips first then they squeeze your ass hard. He slaps your exposed cheek, and you jump at the sudden sensation. 

“Tell me if I’m too rough,” he says, voice low. 

You nod and confess, “I want it rough, Miguel. Please.” “Fuuck, chula. You drive me crazy.” You just whimper in response. 

He spanks you again then tears your suit further, exposing your entire ass and your by now soaked cunt. “You walk in here with half your ass out like it’s nothing. Like you can show me what I spend my nights imagining and expect me not to do anything about it.” He slaps your other ass cheek. “You’re soaked, mami. You wanted this as badly as I did?” You nod desperately. “Tell me what you wanted.” “Fuck, Miguel. You. I wanted you.” 

“You want me to fuck you?” You can already feel him messing with his suit. 

“Yes, fuck, please; please fuck me.” When the head of his cock touches your cunt, your entire body shudders with anticipation. He pushes in forcefully, your wetness enough for him to start sliding in. But he’s big. Really big. As he keeps pushing, you feel a bit of a sting. When he hears you hiss, he slows his entrance but doesn’t stop entirely. “Relax, nena,” he coos. His hands massage your hips. “Breathe, baby.” You take a long inhale, and by the time you’re exhaling, you feel him finally bottom out. “Eso, mi amor. Just like that. Fuck, you feel incredible.” “Migueel,” you whine. “Yeah, baby, I got you.” His hands tighten on your hips as he slowly drags his cock back out until only his tip is inside. You’d never felt so empty. Then he pushes back in, faster than the first time. And again. And again. 

Miguel’s pace quickens probably a bit faster than you’re ready for, but you love the intensity of the sensations. You love the feeling of him deep inside you, of him desperate to be deeper. You start rocking back in time with his thrusts, slamming your ass onto him. 

“Fuuuck.” His voice is gravel. One of his powerful hands comes to your shoulder to help pull and push you at his now brutal rhythm. He fucks you with a stamina only possible for a superhuman. You’re sure you wouldn’t be able to take it if you weren’t one yourself.

The large room echoes your slapping skin, your yells and moans as he spears into you repeatedly.

Your thighs tighten as you start nearing your climax. Your cunt starts squeezing tighter. “Fuck, fuck, eso, nena, eso,” he chants, getting even rougher. His praises start sounding strangled, and you know he’s close too. 

“Cum with me, Miguel,” you beg desperately. He groans animalistically at your words, giving you a strangled affirmative moan and pushing his pace to what you imagine is his limit. 

“C’mon, baby, cum for me, cum for me,” he urges. It’s easy to let go with how hard he’s fucking you. You can’t really feel the rest of your body except for a hot heaviness. All you feel is where you’re connected and how every thrust sends pure pleasure coursing through you. 

You’re orgasming a second later, and to the feeling of your clenching cunt and the sound of your euphoric screams, Miguel comes right after. 

You’re unable to keep up your movements, too spent and too blissed out, but he keeps thrusting, albeit slower, until you’ve both rode out the hardest orgasms of your life. Then and only then does he still, still inside you, and collapse onto your back. His broad torso covers you completely, warming you despite how sweaty you are now.

His labored breathing on the back of your neck tickles, sending a shiver down your body. He chuckles and peppers kisses on your neck and shoulder, pulling your suit down to kiss at more skin. 

He eventually lifts himself up; you were never going to push him off, that’s certain. You could spend forever under him, wrapped up in him. 

His strong hands lift your especially malleable body, turning you to face him and helping support you as you lean back on the desk. 

When your eyes meet, Miguel smiles at you. It stops your rapidly beating heart. 

One arm around you, his other hand pushes sweaty hair off your face then lingers there, caressing. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. You just nod. He laughs. “What?” you giggle. “So that’s what it takes to make you stop talking, huh?” “Shut up!” you tsk, shoving his wall of a chest. He doesn’t budge at all, just catches your hand in his, bringing it to his face and kissing it. His lips linger over the skin of your fingers, the back of your hand. You trace them lightly, and they shift into a subtle grin. 

As you look into his big brown eyes, you’re pretty sure you know what this ever-thinning shade of serious is covering.

“Miguel?” 

“Hm?” He pecks your hand again. 

“All those missions… they weren’t ‘potentially significant’ were they?” 

He lowers your hand but keeps it in his. His gaze follows your hands down, looking away briefly, but he’s looking into your eyes again when he shakes his head ever so subtly. You hum in understanding. He just needed to make sure you were okay after.

After a beat, you whisper, “Can we stop pretending?” “That the missions are special?” “That what we feel for each other isn’t…” 

“Ah.” He looks torn. You know he thinks it’s dangerous, know he feels the weight of literally the entire universe on his very broad shoulders. You lean up and kiss him gently. 

“We can figure it out,” you whisper against his lips. His nose brushes yours as he nods then kisses you again. 

[internalloops]

DA:TV rant … if you are of the mind that BioWare can do no wrong /its games can be criticize or if you truly enjoying the game and are loving everything that you’ve seen so far this post is not for you. Please move along and if you don’t want me showing up on your feed please block me.  I will not be engaging with any fan that will not allow me to take up space and vent my feelings on the disaster that is this fucking game.

*Also a lot of spoilers!!

.. it’s horrible, like I knew I was going to be disappointed but holy fucking shit …

I’m about to finish act one and .. they destroyed their entire lore … BioWare destroyed their ENTIRE lore /world build of Dragon Age

Minrathous has NO SLAVES !!! They are briefly talked about via shadow dragons but they’re are none visible at all in the city ( but they have the animation to give a poor person “fake money” )

The qunari who literally fought and tried to kill solas in trespasser have been turned into mindless brutes who willingly joined the evil gods … because they command dragons ?

The blight except for one mission is harmless. They purposely turned it into a bio weapon and then (besides the dark spawn spawning from it like something out of an MMO) due to *plot armor, no one actually contracts the blight ???

The black chantry minus one building that you go through in a side quest doesn’t exist? No chantry members , no talk of the black divine ..

Dalish are all engineers now and part of the veil jumpers ( which should not exist lore wise) and all elven magic has been converted into cyberpunk technology and artifacts. Very little talk about their oppression and they are all very willing to drop all their history , even their distrust of solas , to flight the old gods .

Varric Has been demoted to inspirational speaker and narrator he has no other role and the entire team acts like he died , even when he’s in the room with him ( I think BioWare actually planned to kill him but then chickened out ) and is a husk of his former self

Same with Morgan , you can’t interact with her at all and she’s given the same mysterious background as flemeth ( the theory that she carries mythal spirit is very strong right now )

Lyrim potions don’t exist, in fact lyrim doesn’t exist at all besides the dagger. All magic has turned into technology, and if you play as a mage mana just has an automatic replenish rate /cool down effect that you can level up.

Evil gods go back and forth between an actual intense adversary and threat to the world, and a typical Disney villain.

These are just the few I can think of off the top of my head, there is so much more than this …

The game can literally be summed up as Mass effect andromeda x2 with God of war animations and marvel style writing ( not the avengers I’m talking about the recent shit)

Also for the people who want to kill solas or simply dislike him, the game pushes a sympathetic view of him on you ,even your companions who outrightly want to kill him will feel sorry for him. And I’m saying this as a solavellan fan. Yes they’re options to be mean to him and antagonize him, but you won’t get anyone agreeing with your actions ,at best they’ll be neutral about it. Now this might play out differently for those who picked the “chooses to stop him “ option , but for those who’s inquisitions wanted to save him but they wanted their rooks to hate him … you’re not gonna be happy about what you get ..

The only thing that keeping me playing is the reveal of history of ancient elves and Titans and solas’s story. And Assan!! Assan can do no wrong !! Everything else is a slog to get through.

[timmydraker]

CW: drugs

When Tim is seventeen, Bruce gets a call from his principal asking for a private meeting to discuss Tim’s education. It’s not abnormal, but the parent teacher meetings weren’t due for another month and something about the tone of Professor Wilcot’s voice leaves Bruce concerned.

He organises it for the next afternoon and politely tells the timid looking man to please get to the point.

Wilcot answers with a tight lipped frown, “I recently discovered that Tim has a few nicknames. Now, that in itself isn’t a probably but the names themself are… concerning.”

Bruce immediately thinks of Red Robin and worries his son has been caught, but that makes little sense when Tim has shown to be the best at contingencies and secret keeping.

“Such as?”

With a deep sigh the man continues, “Well, there’s ‘Benzo’ and ‘Opi’. As well as ‘27’, which is recently learned references a so called ‘club’ of celebrities who die at that age for-for drug abuse.”

Even if he wasn’t a detective, Bruce could easily put it all together. Benzodiazepines and opioids, both drugs and a number well tied to such a thing all regarding a famed person.

It’s like he’s just gotten inside from being drenched in snow and had hot water dunked on him as dozens of different moments come to mind. He remembers Tim going from being down and low, tired and drained to suddenly being extra alert and chatty. He assumed it was coffee, but Tim often had a red nose and sniffled like mad.

He also got shakes, was made fun of by his brothers for being a sweaty person, and irritable at the best of times. He was jumpy and easily spooked, which everyone connected to him growing up safe and getting no sleep.

Tim also had forgotten basic case information a few times but usually managed to cover it up.

Bruce had noticed and responded by trying to lessen his work load, only for Tim to scream at him, storm off and come back looking drowsy a couple of hours later.

Wilcot doesn’t speak for a while, seemingly giving Bruce the chance to process his words but when he does it’s just to put forward the last bit of evidence Bruce needs.

“I admit it isn’t exactly ethical, but I check Mister Drake-Wayne’s locker and… I thought it would be best if I let you chose how to proceed lest I harm his reputation.”

A bottle, almost empty, of Oxycodone and a half full bottle of Oxymorphone.

Bruce looks away when the last bottle lands on the table, it’s a benzodiazepines called Dalmane and there are no pills because they’ve all been crushed into a powder.

Bruce doesn’t even want to think about how those drugs interact.

Wilcot says one last thing before he leaves the room, quit clearly giving Bruce a moment as the reveal settles in his mind, “Tim is a good kid. He’s kind to everyone and I truely hope he can get help. Please, if there is anything I can do, contact me. Other than that, I will keep this quiet. Please take care of him.”

Let it be said that Bruce Wayne loves his children, he genuinely cares for them and most importantly, he likes who each of them are.

But he’s not always the best father to them, not when he’s too far in his head and his head is too far up his arse.

He tries to confront Tim calmly and with compassion at first but it becomes clear he isn’t qualified to deal with it and he should have gotten Alfred or even Dick. When Batman deals with addicts all he has to do is get them to a hospital and show he isn’t judging them, but with his own son and when he’s not being Batman…

Tim instantly locks up when Bruce shows him the bottles and his defences go straight into overdrive, “Bruce, don’t. That’s not fair! Did you go through my fucking stuff?! That’s fucked up!”

Bruce looses his composure quickly, “Don’t you dare curse at me, Timothy. You are a goddamn hero and you’re doing this? Why did you tell me?! I could have helped you! Why, Tim?! You e seen what people who abuse drugs end up like-“

Tim screams so loud Bruce can practically hear how it hurts his throat, “WHAT FUCKING DRUGGIES?! IS THAT WHAT THEY END UP LIKE?! TOO FUCKING LATE BRUCE, YOU’RE TOO LATE! I GAVE YOU EVERY FUCKING SIGN AND YOU DID NOTHING SO FUCK OFF! I. AN HANDLE IT ON MY OWN!”

“This ain’t handling it, Tim. You’re addicted. You’re erratic, you’re bouncing from mood to mood and, have you seen how skinny you are? I’m worried, Tim.”

Maybe Tim would have been able to handle it better if he hadn’t been a few hours into withdrawal, but all he does is swing. He manages to catch Bruce of guard and hit him square in the jaw, only to realise what he’s done and start hitting himself the same way.

Bruce breaks as he watches his son who is usually so calm and controlled break down in a fit of aggression and pent up energy.

When Tim manages to hit himself hard enough Bruce. An hear a crack from his hand.

As he speaks again he dooms himself to a life time of regret, forever wishing he had gotten Alfred’s advice first.

“I’m sorry son, but until you’re clean, you will no longer be Red Robin.”

There’s a silence before Tim releases a wheezing laugh of disbelief.

It’s soon followed by the most enraged, harrowing scream Bruce has ever heard. It feels as if it shakes the walls before Tim kicks at his father’s stomach and bolts.

Bruce is too stunned to follow and foolishly assumes he can track his son anywhere.

Tim, even after he manages to shakily pull out the Dalmane he had in his pocket just as he passes the gate and take a big inhale, manages to put his mind together enough to remove his watch and key.

Bruce is forced to shamefully admit what happened a few hours later when he can’t find him and realises that Tim isn’t coming back.

Alfred for the first time in Bruce’s entire life actually glares at him.

Dick shouts at Bruce about how unbelievably stupid he is.

Jason just scoffs and says the kid will come back while Damian makes a comment about Tim being weak.

Maybe they would have reacted better if Bruce told them why Tim left, but he shamefully doesn’t want to admit he didn’t notice that Tim was a dealing with addiction under his own nose.

But Bruce has never been good with honesty.

[letters-to-rosie]

random Ekko thoughts

so I'm trying to get a little fic writing in, and I was thinking of some timebomb takes I've seen recently. I realized that a lot of opinions people have on their relationship and how it's depicted center around Jinx, and I was wondering what care people give towards writing Ekko, so here are some things I like to include when writing him:

perfectionist. Ekko, at least in League canon, goes back and forth over and over to craft a perfect moment. I think he'd be observant, detail-oriented, probably a little neurotic, definitely the type to replay an awkward interaction over and over in his head in the shower or before falling asleep

emotionally guarded. first, I gotta say I don't think Ekko would want to be this way. but he's been through so much he finds it useful to have walls up. it's not like all the toughness is a defense mechanism—he fights for what he believes in and is clearly very brave (who else makes hoverboards ffs). he does miss, though, the times and people that allowed him to be more vulnerable, and he treasures it when he has it. his childhood ended way too soon

chronic overthinker. this goes back to the perfectionism, but I think he'd constantly be questioning everything. he's good on his feet, but he likes to have a plan, and he'd tends to think about those for a long time

charismatic as hell. this one I think is proven by the show, lol. Ekko seems very personable, likes to haggle (at least as a kid), and is liked enough to lead a resistance movement. I think he'd make good speeches and be good at convincing people. this would, of course, cause drama with Jinx, because he'd be like "all these people believe in me and my former best friend doesn't," ow

drama. I like to give him a pretty dramatic inner monologue, lol. I also like to think he's self-aware enough to realize he's being dramatic in the moment and to then continue the drama anyway

enjoyer of thrills. hoverboard. need I say more?

childish and playful side. didn't get to have a full childhood and cherishes getting to let that side out. cue fluff

fidgeter. it preceded the tinkering

player of mind games. this is mostly based on how he treats Caitlyn and Vi after kidnapping them, putting them through what essentially amounts to tests (for, imo, understandable reasons). he also goads Jinx into a game he knows he'll be able to win. I think he'd apply this thinking to other scenarios, be they big or small

too-big sense of responsibility. would feed into the drama for sure. he feels the weight of his community on his shoulders, and because he wants things to go well, and because they're counting on him, he takes on a lot that he maybe should not

self-righteous. he strikes me as filled with righteous anger. he's right, most of the time. on the occasion he isn't, this causes problems

proud. wouldn't be a real issue in most situations, but it's there

irreverent. he flips off cops as a kid. we love him for this

smart. this is obvious, but sometimes can be forgotten in the fandom. I'd see Ekko as book-smart and having street-smarts (or at least a lot more than Jayce, but that's a low bar). I think his verbal skills would also be a bit more polished than some of the other science-inclined characters (cough cough Jinx). I think it's also notable that among the others (Jayce, Viktor, Heimerdinger, Jinx), Ekko is the main science character who has no access to proper schooling at any point. sure, he has his job with Benzo, but it's unclear how much that would have taught him. Silco probably got at least books for Jinx, and the others had real teachers. there's an element of resourcefulness in Ekko's smarts which is laudable, imo

very dorky. we love a man with range. I feel like he would be able to operate on multiple levels, one in which he's this cool charismatic leader and another when you get to know him better, who makes science puns and has a lot of insecurities, which naturally leave him replaying awkward conversations in the shower. layers!

idealistic. you have to give people what they need to live

heart of gold. one thing that always strikes me is that Ekko is really the only member of the main cast concerned enough with the plight of the average person in Zaun to make it his whole business. he's tending to the crisis in a way that is simultaneously very grounded and (again) idealistic, where substance use recovery is very much needed in the setting but he's also (perhaps in contrast to Vander) throwing himself into battles that are unsustainable because he believes in his cause, even if the persecution is so bad he has to hide over it

disaster bi (this one is for me)

Ekko's a really layered and interesting character. I wanted to bring up some things I think about when writing him because of posts I've seen recently about him being reduced to "Jinx's boyfriend" (due to anti-black racism, of course) and posts just kinda about timebomb in general? I think because it's been canon that Ekko has a crush of Jinx for so long, it's easy to take that for granted and not give much thought to his side of the ship. we also spend a lot more time in Jinx's head than his in the show, even though the brief moment we do spend in his head introduces a whole new art style and the best song on the soundtrack (fight me)

obviously, I'm a shameless Ekko and Firelights stan. he's my favorite character in Arcane and one of my favorites in anything ever, so it was fun to flesh out my headcanons, things I think are extrapolatable from canon, and just some of the traits that go into writing him. if people have others (or just traits and things they think are interesting) I'd love to hear them! I love my brilliant and contradictory boy!

[coeurify]

actually on my knees begging for a girl next door blurb with Ellie

like imagine moving into the house next to her’s and her being all grumbly and closed off because she cannot physically face the reader because she’s just a loser lesbian and OMG THE UNKNOWN PINING SUJDJSNSNDB

I NEED HER I CANT-

WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR LOSER GND!ELLIE ⁉️

giggles.. cause like.. yea.

if we r talking modern!ellie, oh god would it be the most cliche shit ever (plz tell me if u want jackson!ellie version cause i’d be happy to do that too. or jus more of this concept) [not edited]

⋆˚✿˖° im talking, ellie looking out from her window in her old house, eyes narrowing as a moving truck pulled into the pretty blue house next door. the neighborhood had been recently taken over by young families, which ellie hated— cause why was she being interrupted in her ‘laying in her bed while blasting music and complaining to herself’ alone time by a bunch of kids screaming outside? either way. she expected another one of these cases.

⋆˚✿˖° but then you popped out, trying to handle three boxes all on your own, cheek pressed against the cardboard as you yelled something ellie couldn’t hear to whoever else was in moving truck. you had glanced over at ellie’s house, maybe even up at her window. and maybe ellie was just dramatic, but she flipped away from that window and face down onto her bed so quickly she was pretty sure it was a new record. because fuck you were pretty.

⋆˚✿˖° and it only got worse later, when el was pulling her hair down from its bun, glancing the sun pressing below the clouds. her fingers moved to close the curtains of her window, and there you were, standing at the window directly across from hers. like— shit straight from a taylor swift music video or something.

⋆˚✿˖° and you, almost as awkward as her, let your hands fall down from their place above your head. you had been putting up shades, but once you caught the gaze of your messy haired neighbor, you smiled at her. fuck, you smiled and waved and ellie just turned away and shut her curtains. you know, like the master at social interactions she was.

⋆˚✿˖° a twin frown painted both your lips at the interaction that night, and at the same time you both huffed out, “god, why’d i do that?”

⋆˚✿˖° nothing really got better from there. not when your family forced you over to ellie’s house with a plate of cookies, your sweet smile the first sight ellie had seen that day as she turned the doorknob to shoo away some girl scout selling something. “we don’t need— oh— oh hi.”

⋆˚✿˖° you looked so fucking pretty. ellie was sure it was fake. maybe she was still in bed dreaming. maybe this was about to turn into one of those really weird s- never mind. you were talking now, and not asking to borrow sugar, so definitely real. “hi! uh— I just, we— i mean, my family, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. and give a gift i guess,” you glance to the plate of wrapped up treats and chuckle lightly. because really, cookies?

⋆˚✿˖° ellie was about red as the shirt she was wearing, stammering a thank you as joel creeped behind her at the door. “you the new neighbors kid?” joel had asked, making ellie clam right up. she backed away from the door, like— just side shuffled out of your view with an awkward wave.

⋆˚✿˖° your eyes followed her, fighting back the odd sense of disappointment that you were no longer staring at the freckled and flushed face of your new neighbor. “uh, yea—yes sir.” you eventually spoke again, offering your grin to joel instead.

⋆˚✿˖° one time joel was doing yard work the same time your family was outside working on the garden. you were fanning your sweating cheek with your hand, the warmth from the sun along with carrying in and out heavy tools was not exactly ideal, and you only felt more heated when ellie came outside the door at the exact moment joel ended up making conversation with your mother.

⋆˚✿˖° “your girl in college?” you could hear him ask, but it was lightly muffled, your attention instead on watching as ellie struggled to bend over and tie her converse against the wall. what an odd way to do it. she was balancing some sort of notebook between arm.. maybe pencils too? did she draw? or maybe write? why couldn’t you stop wondering about it?

⋆˚✿˖° your mom answered joel’s question with some version of the story she always does, gushing about how you were doing so well in school, how she was so proud of you. you didn’t tune back in until joel was speaking again, “ah yea, my — well, ellie, she’s in school too. physics major. but she’s got this thing for astronomy too. kid’s always talking about double majoring.”

⋆˚✿˖° god, she was cute and smart? and her name was ellie? you swore the sun got even hotter at the thought of her talking to you about quantum something-or-other, just nodding along. god you could see it now. a hand in that pretty auburn hair.. mumbling ‘mhm.. whatever you say ellie.’

⋆˚✿˖° then you saw her trip down the stairs on her porch as she looked over. full on hand on the side of the stairs to keep her from eating shit on the rocks there. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a giggle as you wave her way. only to be given a tight lipped smile as she quickly moved away to her car. god. what an odd girl.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie simply lost it the moment she sat in her car, groaning loudly as she slammed her sketch book on her face. “stupid fucking shoes!” she muttered, as if it was the shoes fault for tripping, and not the way she had been intently staring at your face from across the yard. definitely not.

⋆˚✿˖° but really she couldn’t help it, you looked so good, you were wearing shorts, and ellie was happily taking in the sight of skin before that evil fucking creaky porch board got her tumbling down. fuck. she couldn’t ever talk to you again. not ever. she let her head fall to the steering wheel as she went through a million and one ways to simply become invisible and escape any way of running into you. maybe she should become nocturnal.

⋆˚✿˖° but when she let her head fall to the steering wheel, it honked. like a loud, drawn out honk that had you, joel, and your mother’s head turning to the direction of the sound.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie screeched, and you pressed fingers to your lips to contain another smile. you were pretty sure living here was going to be kind of great.