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[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Yandere platonic Batfam x

Child Girl scout reader!

Notes: reader is a child in this.

Warnings ⚠️: mentions of kidnap and reader is low class. Not proofread. Please do not judge my girl scout logic I am not a girl scout and have never been one!

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀����🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

The manor was as dull as ever lately. The big fancy walls of the place only felt colder as time went on.

Dick had broken up with Kori for the umpteenth time that month and was living at the manor ,or more like mopping at the manor..

On rare occasions Cass would stop by. And if they were very lucky jason would stop by and say hi every now and then.

Bruce was as cold as ever not being able to catch the joker and being behind in alot of meetings.

Duke was frustrated with his over all high-school experiences.

And Cass was pretty sure she was going through a mid life crisis despite her still being young.

Pretty soon Tim would graduate high-school and Bruce new he'd be off to living his own life.

Now damian was still pretty young but he didn't really count for a kid. Atleast not in Bruce's eyes. Damian lacked that child imagination. That childish spark. And bruce will admit he is partially to blame....

But on a particular lucky day they had met you!

Or more like Alfred had met you first. And that began the overly possessive vigilanty family to fall absolutely in love with your cute self!

You were about seven never having been blessed with a high class life but your mama sure did try and give you her best!

You oh! so desperately wanted to be a girl scout!

And who was mother to break your heart and tell you she didn't have the money?

So she worked extra shifts at the hospital. Her being a nurse meant that most of her time she was at the hospital working.

But that never stopped her from dropping you off in some of the richest and hopefully safest neighborhoods in gotham so you could sell your cookies for the girl scouts.

She hated leaving you alone but she just couldn't resist your cute puppy dog eyes as you promised you'd be safe....and she really didn't have time to argue or should she'd be late to work, agian!

So with a kiss on the cheek from you and a smile she left. Leaving you on the richest street in gotham.

Sure being low class in gotham was hard but you never saw it that way. You always tried to be kind.

Because in your mother's words, 'in a world where you can be anything, be kind.'

So kind you were. Even to the stuck up little girl scouts who didn't like you because you were poor.

But you didn't pay them any mind! You loved being a girl scout! The other girls were probably just jealous you sold more cookies then them!

Atleast that's what your mama told you.

You smile and skip your way down the street pulling your wagon full of boxes of cookies behind you.

Walking up to each house with a smile on your face most bought some because how could they deny such a cute thing with chubby cheeks?

Sure they'd probably never eat the cookies from a low class kid but they couldn't find it in their cold, spoiled, hearts to say no to you! (They saw it as charity.)

Finally with your last boxes of cookies you pull your wagon with you as you walk up the long drive way and surprisingly the gate was open!

Stepping up to the big door you knock exactly three times.

Alfred being as confused as ever stops cleaning and checks the cameras only to not spot anyone on the footage.

Hesitatently he begins cleaning playing it off as his ears playing tricks on him. But he hears the knock agian. So he doesn't even bother with the camera.

Opening the front door his harsh gaze immediately softens at the sight of you!

Ofc the cameras wouldn't see you! You were to small to be seen on the ring camera!

Your just so cute with your little sash and badges! And your smiles so bright something that the old butler hasn't seen in a while...a genuine smile.

You have that child like wonder that's still in your eyes and by your little dirty shoes the butler knows you traveled a long way to get here.

"Hello sir. I'm here to offer you some of the best cookies in gotham. Girl scout cookies!" You say with one of the biggest smiles and happiest eyes!

"It's five dollars for a box or two boxes for nine! I only have chocolate chip and blueberry left." You say giving your speech like you've done a million other of times.

But this time it would change your life completely.....

To your complete surprise he hands you a hundred dollar bill and you hesitatently take it giving him your last two boxes.

"I don't have change sir....." You say trying to give him back the money to which he just shakes his head.

"Keep it...as a tip." He says his voice holding no pity like the others.

"Really?" You say your eyes shinning with excitement.

And by seeing your happiness Alfred knows you deserve it. So he nods and you take the old spy by surprise by hugging him.

"Thank you so much!" You say as you pull away jumping on the balls of your feet.

"I'll be back every Saturday to give you a box of cookies until I repay you!" You say skipping off with your wagon in tow.

Alfred looks at you with puzzled look did you not know what recieving a tip meant?

Well he wasn't going to stop you from coming back. Especially as you shoot him your absolutely adorable smile as you walk down the driveway and wave goodbye shouting a cute and kind.

"Have a blessed day!" As you leave.

Have a blessed day....Alfred definitely hasn't heard that in a long time..especially in gotham.

You were definitely diffrent...

But you had kept your word coming back every Saturday at 1pm sharp never missing a Saturday!

And each time Alfred would give you a hundred dollar bill saying it was your tip. And you'd give him a hug and tell him you'll be back every Saturday until you repay him!

Alfred doesn't exactly know what about you made him become so attached to you. Maybe it was your hugs? Or your sweet smile?

Either way he didn't mind because he'd wait by the door at 1pm sharp every Saturday waiting to see you walk down the driveway with your little red wagon and big toothy smile.

Eventually he did learn your name and how old you were and you learned quite a bit about him too.

Until one day the he had gotten so caught up in cleaning the manor he didn't even realize that he was about to miss his favorite part of the week!

There was a knock on the door exactly three times just like there always was on Saturday at 1pm for the past few months.

But this time it wasn't the sweet butler you had come accustomed too. No, now it was a big fancy looking man with blue eyes.

"Hello?" He says his voice much softer then it would look like he'd sound like.

Your puzzled eyes search his looking for your dear friend.

"Hi?" You say as tilt your head still searching for your favorite costumer.

Bruce's eyes take you in... your far to young to be out here alone. Where are your parents? He wants to ask but more importantly who are you looking for?

"I usually come by here at this time....do you know where Mr. pennyworth is?" You say your eyes still searching around for the older man.

Bruce looks at you confused how did you know Alfred? Bruce eyes scan you seeing if your a threat but by the way you nervous fiddle around with it your sash as he continues to look at you he deems that your just a harmless child.

"He's inside...do you want to come see him?" He says his voice now much softer and his eyes aren't as cold as they once were. But you take a step back.

You might have been a kid but you aren't that stupid.

"My mama says I can't go in strangers houses.." You say as you look at him clearly looking for a place to hide.

Bruce nods as he sees your nervous deamor.

"Well I suppose I could bring him out to you." Bruce says and your eyes light up with excitement at the thought of seeing your dear friend agian.

And oh.... how bruce envies the old butler by how just the mention of him makes you smile.

Why was Alfred so important to you?

Bruce goes back in but Alfred is already on his way to the door finally remembering his favorite part of the week.

Bruce watches the interaction closely as you smile when Alfred gives you the money. And how sweetly you hug Alfred.

Bruce had initially thought you only came for the good money Alfred was giving you but the way you smiled was kind...and very adorable.

The whole interaction was definitely wholesome and bruce couldn't help but want to be apart of it...he so desperately wished someone would hug him as happily you hug Alfred...

Bruce being the jealous man he is started to be the one opening the door every Saturday at 1pm enjoying your happy smiles and childish jokes you would tell him as you waited for Alfred to come to the door.

And just like Alfred Bruce always made sure he'd never be busy on Saturday at 1pm because rain or sunshine you'd be at their door.

Eventually it was raining very hard and your mother not checking the weather app before you left had left you alone in the rain with no way to contact your mother.

You do your usual houses ending up at the manor at 1pm and despite the hash rain you still had that cute toothy smile on your face that they loved seeing.

"Hi Mr, Wayne!" You happily say...always so happy.

Bruce smiles you always call him Mr. Wayne even when he tells you not to. You must have very good manners or are just very forget he thinks to himself.

"Hello sweetheart." He says. He's called you sweetheart since the second time he had met you.

Now bruce wasn't that into nicknames but for you the nickname really matched. You were just too sweet.

After you do your usual talking with Alfred and bruce you turn to walk back in the rain.

"You can't possibly walk back in that rain, sweetheart." Bruce says his voice edged with worry and concern.

But you dismiss his concern with a shrug and a smile.

"I've walked in worse.. plus my mama is gonna pick me up soon!" You say happily giving them their two boxes of cookies and walking a way.

But they don't smile back this time when you yell. "Have a blessed day!" Like you always do.

No, their eyes circle around everything about you. About the rain. How harshly it's hitting your skin. How wet your hair is getting. How heavy your little red wagon must be for you as it continues filling up with water.

They watch as you slowly disappear down the long driveway their hearts still longing to help.

But altimately they decide that they can't do anything. Your not their kid. They can't offer you a ride because they know you'd never accept.

They don't even know the name of your mother let alone her number. How were they supposed to verify if your mother was really going to pick you up?

Or were you just going to walk home in the rain?

You'd surely get sick... and after after about five more minutes the two men come to the conclusion that.....fuck the rules you were definitely not going to be walking alone in the rain.

So with Alfred handing bruce the keys bruce quickly took off in his black Mercedes.

You continue walking down the street trying not to feel scared as the lightning strikes agian. And when a black and very nice car pulls up beside you you walk faster.

You knew how much your mother worried...the last thing she needed was for you to get kidnapped!

But the car kept up with your pace and the window rolled down and as much as you tried not to you couldn't help but turn your head to see who was driving the car.

You immediately stop walking as you see the driver.

"Hi Mr. Wayne!" You say smiling and bruce can't even register a real smile as he takes in how your soaking wet from head to toe. And he just knows that those old shoes are probably hurting your feet.

"Hey sweetheart......how about I give you a ride?" He says his voice pleading as he pulls the car to a complete stop.

You look at him and tilt your head and bruce has to stop himself from just getting out the car and picking you up and putting you in himself.

Your adorable confused motions give away your response. So bruce speaks up agian.

"Just one ride to your house." He says still pleading but in his mind you don't really have a choice you are going to let him give you a ride.

"You won't kidnap me right?" You question and instead of bruce feeling offend or angry at that he smiles and shakes his head. You were trying to be safe. But that wasn't exactly a good question to ask.

Atleast not to the richest man in gotham who didn't have to necessarily kidnap you to keep you.

Reaching over and open the passengers seat for you Bruce shows you a award winning smile; a smile that not even the paparazzi has caught him with in years.

"Of course not sweetheart....come on get in."

And plus it's not considered kidnapping when you legally adopt someone right?

Thanks for reading!

Part two here! And part three!

Likes Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[yandere-daydreams]

exhibit #3 - stepcest.

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!toji x reader (jjk).

length: 3.0k.

warnings: non/con, fem!reader, step!dad + step!daughter, manipulation, mentions of death, mentions of grief, age gap (toji is in his mid 40s, reader is in her early 20s), long-term stalking, rampant daddy kinks, and slight infantalization. dead dove: do not eat.

Your plane landed about two hours before the funeral. By the time you got to the house (a tucked away two-story built for recluses and retirees), Toji was waiting for you in the driveway, already half-dressed in a pair of suit pants and a plain white button-up – leftover from a wedding or one of your mother’s work parties, you were sure. There was a fifty-dollar bill crumbled messily in his hand, and he palmed it to the cab driver after helping you out of the backseat and hauling your lone, malnourished suitcase out of the trunk. Another day, you might’ve tried to stop him, to insist on taking care of yourself, but you weren’t really in a place to take care of much of anything, at the moment.

You waited in silence for the cab to pull out, disappearing down the greenery-crowded backroad that led into town. When the vehicle was finally out of sight, you took a deep breath, shut your eyes, and collapsed into Toji’s chest.

His arms were around you in a heartbeat. You went boneless against him – exhausted from the news, the sobbing, the flight. If you hadn’t been so tired, you might’ve been able to greet him, to say you were sorry, to recognize that he was in mourning too, but you were tired, and you were sad, and it was all you could do to mutter distantly into his shoulder. “It just feels so…”

“I know, kid, I know.” He squeezed you against him, the same way he had the first time you’d failed a class, or after you’d heard your mother planned to sell your childhood home. It was the good, bone-crushing kind of hug, the type that flattened your lungs and made you feel safe. It was the kind of hug you’d only ever gotten from Toji. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“And you’re sure the ceremony is—”

“All taken care of.” He laughed airily. “We should get you dressed. I tried to lay out everything that still fits, but it’s gonna take some trial and error.”

His hold loosened, but didn’t fall away. You stayed where you were. “If we’re early, do you think I’ll be able to get a few minutes alone with her?”

He sighed, then kissed the top of your head. “It doesn’t matter what time we get there, princess. If anyone tries to stop you, I’ll deal with them.”

You sniffled, but straightened, determined to take consolidation where you could. Toji slung your suitcase over his shoulder and, taking your hand, led you inside.

~

You weren’t early. Toji had to help with your dress – your hands were shaking too badly to slot the buttons into place. You thought, briefly, about make-up, but you hadn’t remembered to pack any, and the only stock in the house would’ve been hers. Instead, you kept your head bowed and your eyes on the floor as you waded through rarely-seen friends and distant relatives, as faces you only just barely recognized recited hollow platitudes about how wonderful your mother was, how much they’d miss the light she’d brought into their lives, how fortunate you’d been to grow up with such a sparkling presence in your life. The business trips, the boarding schools, the screaming matches – those remained unmentioned, unthought of. It was the cruelest thing they could’ve put you through, and it was the most merciful they possibly could’ve been. It was terrible beyond description, and it was the best you could’ve hoped for.

Toji was at your side all the while, only occasionally stepping away to grab yet another box of tissues or a fresh bottle of water. He guarded the doors during your private visitation, and when you left a few minutes into the ceremony to vomit, he held your hair back without a word of complaint. His own estranged children – Megumi and Tsumiki – made an appearance. Neither spoke to you, but Tsumiki hugged you close and Megumi rested a hand on your shoulder. Their sympathy was hollow, but welcomed. What they’d gone through was different, easier. They’d lost both their mothers as children, when they were too young to really know what that meant, but you appreciated the sentiment.

There wasn’t a burial. Cremation had been in the will, added only a few months before the accident. It wasn’t your place to complain, but you wished she would’ve talked to you about it. Even a hole in the ground would’ve been more comforting than knowing you’d have to pick up a cold piece of porcelain containing what was left of your mother some time next week. Toji promised he’d take care of it as he drove you back home, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue.

Left to your own devices, you wandered the house. It’d been less than seventy-two hours since the accident, but already, the house seemed colder, emptier. Too many doors were shut rather than left ajar, too many counters clean rather than cluttered, too many blankets folded instead of absentmindedly thrown into a heap – the way your mother would always leave them when she got up. You tried to brave her bedroom, to find the sweater she’d been attempting to crochet for as long as you could remember, but you couldn’t make it farther than the doorway.

Toji caught you on the staircase. He stood at the bottom, arms crossed and back against the banister. As you neared the end of your descent, he sighed. “Any big plans, kid?”

You tried to smile, but it fell away quickly. “I think I might turn in early. I’m pretty tired from the—” You paused, swallowing. “—from everything.”

He hummed, letting his eyes fall to your feel. Abruptly, you realized that you hadn’t taken off your dress after the funeral. Or your jacket. Or your shoes.

“Yeah.” He straightened, pushing himself onto his feet. “That’s not going to happen. Change, get your ass on the couch, and put on a movie. I’m ordering take-out.”

He didn’t want you to be alone. You might’ve felt a little warmer, if you’d been able to feel anything at all. “I’m fine, I promise. You don’t have to babysit me.”

“And listen to you cry yourself to sleep?” He let out a breath of a laugh. “Ass. Couch. Now. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

It didn’t seem like he ‘no’ for an answer. Reluctantly, you shuffled past him and did as you were told – throwing on a pair of shorts and oversized shirt you hadn’t worn since your sophomore year of college. The living room seemed too big, too foreboding, so you stowed yourself away in the garage, your mother’s makeshift movie room. An unmemorable romcom was chosen out of a catalogue of identical titles with no particular sense of favoritism, but your mind began to wonder as soon as the opening credits started to play.

Toji was a good guy. Really, he was. You had to remind yourself of that from time to time, when something made you think of the bank-vault full of handguns he kept in the guestroom or your mother complained about how vague he was about his high-paying occupation, and you hadn’t always thought so – fuck, when she first brought home a man nearly fifteen years her junior with the build of a hitman and scars to match, you’d called her insane and insisted that, if they ever got married, you’d never speak to her again. You’d figured he was a scam artist, but a conman wouldn’t get up an hour before sunrise to make breakfast for their mark every day without fail, or volunteer for the droning domesticity of weekly laundry and vacuuming, or hide enough cash to cover the first three months of rent in their girlfriend’s daughter’s suitcase when she finally moved out.

You doubted he really loved your mom, but you doubted she’d ever really loved him, either. Toji was good for her, a steady hand to balance out her rashness, a beating heart to keep your home alive whenever her impulsivity led her elsewhere. When they did eventually get married in a small, unglamourous courtroom ceremony, you’d even acted as their witness. He was good to her, and she was happy. That was all that really mattered, you guessed.

When Toji came back, he was carrying a large paper bag printed with the logo of your favorite restaurant – ordered before your conversation, most likely. He pretended not to watch you as you ate, the action mechanical and joyless. You didn’t have much of an appetite, but you didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

The romcom had only passed the half-way mark by the time you tuned back in; the point where your protagonists began to lull into a false sense of security before their lives came crashing down around them. You would’ve expected Toji to leave after making sure you’d gotten something to eat, but instead, he sat stiffly next to you, half buried by your mound of blankets as you stretched your legs across his lap. The hero was delivering his nth poorly written monologue – something about family or belonging, it was hard to tell. As the actor struggled to cry on demand, Toji rested a hand on your knee.

As the heroine stormed out of his apartment and into the melodramatic rainstorm waiting outside, his touch wandered, skirting over your bare thigh.

As she ducked under the canopy of a brightly lit café, pulling out her phone to call her estranged parents for the very first time in five years, his hand slipped under your shorts and settled over your cunt.

Your immediate thought was, embarrassingly, that it had to be an accident. You weren’t sure how it could be, but the logistics didn’t matter – it had to be an accident. The stiff shape pressing into the underside of your calf was a nonfactor, static cast over your conscious mind. You wanted to get up, to take a hot shower, to lock yourself in your room, but your body wouldn’t move. Couldn’t move. That’d get his attention, and he’d realize what he was doing, and—

The heroine sobbed and threw her phone in the overflowing gutter, her reconciliation having ended messily. At the same time, two of Toji’s fingers slipped underneath your panties, tracing the length of your slit before pushing a quick circle into your clit. That was it. You scrambled off of the couch, your foot catching on a cushion and leaving you shambling and crumpled on the floor. You tried to pick yourself up, but you weren’t fast enough. Toji was already shifting, already leaning down, already taking you by either side. A little too easily, he hauled you back onto the sofa and threw your back against the armrest, the impact forceful enough to bruise the base of your spine. You cringed, but he only laughed, letting his hands fall to your hips and squeezing. “Where do you think you’re going, kid?”

“I wasn’t—” A knee was forced between your thighs, nudging them apart. Toji was quick to fill the empty space. “It’s—Uh, it’s kind of funny, actually. I thought I felt something touch my leg, and—”

“Mhm. Just like how I used to find you rooting around in my stuff because you thought it belonged to the old hag.” You winced. That’d been early on – when you were still too suspicious to let your guard down and too naïve to be subtle about it. You’d assumed he would’ve forgotten about that, by now. “Have anything else you want to get off your chest? Go ahead – Daddy’s here to listen.”

Disgust pricked at the back of your throat, bitter and acidic. It must’ve shown through to your expression - Toji smirked as he hooked a thumb underneath the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down to your knees. Your hands shot out on reflex, grappling for what was already lost, but Toji only clicked his tongue and bowed his head, his tongue drawing a wet stripe over the seat of your panties. In the end, it was all you could do to tangle your fingers in his hair and shut your eyes, as if drawing him closer had ever done you any good.

The sound was the worst part. Messy and indulgent, the soft click of saliva against skin and Toji’s airy groans as he buried his face between your thighs. He traced the shape of your cunt through your panties, only occasionally pausing to grind the fabric into your clit, to draw the meekest possible ‘no’ or ‘stop’ out of you. His hands fell to your thighs, forcing them over his broad shoulders and letting him pin you down that much more efficiently. Your body suddenly felt smaller than it had in years, as fragile and as helpless as the morning you’d first woken up with a strange, gigantic man in your home only to be told that the person you loved most in the world invited him in. It was hard to believe you’d ever trusted him, that you’d ever been stupid enough to trust anyone. You’d been in danger from the moment you decided you were safe.

You only realized you were crying when your vision blurred, when you felt the first tear drip onto your chest. Awareness accompanied revulsion as you felt your body start to react, your thighs going rigid as something other than Toji’s spit started to dampen the fabric of your panties. Arousal wasn’t really the right description. Fear-induced hysteria would’ve been a better fit, or a latent survival instinct you would’ve preferred to live without. Either way, Toji chuckled as he pulled back, dragging your panties to the side and thrusting his tongue into your now-sopping cunt. You felt him curl and flex, causing friction where stretch wasn’t possible. You let out a miserable sob, digging your nails into his scalp, trying to pull him away. In response, Toji only nuzzled closer, grinding the bridge of his nose into your clit.

Your orgasm was humiliatingly swift. You’d never really had time to date, not between work and school, and there was only so much that masturbation could prepare you for. You weren’t used to it – the heat, the slickness, the pressure of something splitting you open from the inside out – and it was all happening too quickly, too mercilessly to stave off. Your hands fell away from his head, darting up to cover your face as you came into his mouth. Rather than warmth, a cold dread filled you in-tandem with your climax, the knowledge that’d you’d just done something terribly, terribly. He was your mother’s husband, for fuck’s sake. He was your—

Your mind went blank before you could make the full connection, two wires disconnecting before the unthinkable could be communicated. You imagined black clothes and cardboard tissue boxes and coffins, and convinced yourself that nothing else had ever crossed your mind.

Toji wasn’t as introspective. He pulled back with a jarring sort of rush, then just hastily, shoved his mouth against yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue as he all-but forced it down your throat. By the time he let you breathe, he was panting.

“Been waiting years for that.” He picked himself up, calling against the back of the couch. You stared blankly at the ceiling. “Since the first time I heard you fucking yourself on those pathetic little fingers. You know how thin those walls were, right? You were probably trying to get caught – needy little brat.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Something vital to you had curled up and died in your throat minutes ago, and now, it was all you could do to try and suck in air around it. Toji’s gaze flickered over you, then he laughed. “C’mon, now, don’t play shy. You had to know.”

The words weren’t yours. They belonged to someone else, someone in another body. “You married my mom.”

“Jealous little brat, too.” You felt his arms around you, drawing you upward. Your body was stiff, uncooperative, but Toji was patient – carefully positioning you to straddle his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders and planting his own on your waist. His eyes were softened, half-lidded, his smile lopsided – weighed down by affection. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve mistaken him for genuinely lovestruck. “I had to. She never would’ve let me stick around if I didn’t, and—” He paused, squeezed your side. “I wasn’t going to give you up. Not when we were just starting to get to know each other.”

That wasn’t true. He’d already been living with you for years by the time they’d gotten married. You liked him enough not to tell your mom when you caught him smoking on the front porch or not using coasters, and he liked you enough to invite you out on his long, late-night drives and do your laundry with—

Oh, god.

He’d been doing your laundry.

Your voice was soft, almost inaudibly so. It took everything you had just to get your lips to move. “…can I go, now?”

“Not just yet.” A hand slipped between your body and his, dipping below his sweatpants. His cock – flushed and veined and monstrously thick – was pulled free, allowed to press into your stomach. Weakly, you tried to draw back, but Toji held you still, taking himself by the base and pumping once, twice. “I had to call in a lot of favors to make that accident happen, y’know. It’d be nice if you could show me a little love.”

The shock was cold, numbing. Toji guided you onto your knees, positioning the head of his cock against your entrance. Slowly, delicately, he dragged you down, lowering you inch by agonizing inch until your hips were slotted against his. He started to let his head roll back before thinking better of it and pulling you closer – burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You blinked. His cock twitched inside of you, and it was all you could do to melt, to rest your forehead against him and let your body go slack in his embrace. “Toj—”

“You know that’s not right, pretty girl.” His hips rolled against yours, drawing a pitiful whine from your lips. “Tell me who takes care of you.”

“D-Daddy.” And then, sniffling into his chest. “I’m really scared.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

It might’ve been easier to believe, if you hadn’t been able to feel his grin biting into your throat.

“That’s what you’ve got your daddy for, right?”

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

Neglected Reader x Yandere Platonic Batfam

-> au where reader is neglected but like they don't really care ? Like, yeah, it sucks that their own adopted family don't really care about them, but like they make their own life and are happy? Basically, the reader is just a chill guy man.

More of this au. 🍁🍁 , 🍁🍁🍁 , 🍁🍁🍁🍁

- reader's life starts off normally. They have a loving mom and dad who cared about them a lot, but one day, their parents got caught in a crossfire between the police and Joker and ended up sadly dying.

- reader is taken into the foster care system . Foster care system was kinda shitty , you know normal Gotham shenigans of misusing funds and staff corruption. Despite how shitty foster care was , reader still manages to make connections with foster siblings and make the most of it .

- after the reader's foster parents get arrested for allegedly selling drugs, the reader is placed into Bruce's care .

- first day of reader being at the Wayne's mansion , Bruce leaves her in Alfred's care before leaving to attending to do work . Alfred's introduces the reader to their room and reader is just amazed they got their own room .

- reader meets Jason first at a week of living at the mansion , and the reader gave them a simple 'hi' but Jason just looked at them like they were weird ? Reader didn't really care and just went about their life because like why should they care what some random thinks ?

- reader indulges themselves into learning law - finding it so fascinating how cases unravel out and plans to pursue it for their future .

- reader meets Dick like two months in and he tried being nice but didn't really engage with them unless necessary which reader didn't mind they were busy with other things.

- reader is a literal programming prodigy and literal has a whole programming side hustle that brings them in millions.

- reader meets Tim after five months of living there, and they both just glare at each other because Tim's like, why are they here? The reader just thinks he looks like a zombie.

- reader continues on their life - thanks to their programming hustle , reader gains a network of persons who can help them in their law career .

- five months living there and reader feels so bored there so they take up after school activities like boxing and debate .

- so far, only Alfred's been the one to talk to the reader, not that they mind they think he's pretty cool .

- reader discovers their vigilante life one night accidentally when they came home late from their boxing class and saw NightWing being patched up by Alfred in the kitchen. Reader pieces together that if Dick is nightwing then the others must be batman and robin.

- reader continues on her passion for law and ends up getting full ride scholarship to Harvard law and they immediately jump at the opportunity. They pack their stuff and tell Alfred goodbye and that they're going away to further their education and leaves the mansion since they can live on campus.

- despite leaving the mansion, the reader still keeps in touch with Alfred because they feel a little bad for leaving him behind .

- years pass and reader graduates and becomes the most sought after lawyer in America . Reader makes a name for themselves and is living up her life with her pet cat in her private penthouse in New York.

- one day Bruce is facing some legality issues and randomly brought it up around Alfred and Alfred is like " you can always ask your daughter/son they are literally America's best lawyer " .

-Bruce sits there shocked because what, for you mean he has a daughter /son, that's America's best lawyer . Damian walks in that moment and questions Bruce about it like, " Why hasn't he met them ?"

- Alfred then buts in with " Oh you haven't met them because when you arrived, they were already left to go to Harvard " . Bruce's jaw literally drops to the floor because he literally has a kid that went to Harvard without him knowing -.

- thus Bruce makes an appointment with you along with Damian and Dick because they were both honestly shocked at the news and low behold. Here, they are sitting in your fancy office waiting for you.

- you walk in looking all fancy and professionally in your tailored suit as you welcome them . You swear they look familiar but can't place it . Bruce and you go back and forth with the legalities - still in shock that you are his kid -.

- after their appointment, Damian can't shut up about how cool you are and asking Dick and Bruce questions about you only for them both awkward since they didn't know about you.

- the three of them tell the others about you and everyone's now very much invested in your life .

- Bruce arranges another appointment with you and you're like hellah suspicious because like y'all can communicate through emails or something you know but you shrug it off thinking he's old and that he doesn't know how to properly do emails yet.

- Regardless you met Bruce at the arranged appointment meeting place, and before you could even do anything, Damian literally picks you up WWE style and throws you into the limo . Bruce literally starts lecturing him on the spot about how ' kidnapping is bad ' as if he doesn't make himself cozy in the front seat .

- and thus they drive off, and you're just sitting there like ' wtf ' .

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

The Daycare

Danny moves to Gotham after Lady Gotham themselves asks for his help.

Gotham's natural ecto has been deteriorating, and considering ecto was what held everything in existence together safely this was a major problem for Lady Gotham.

If Gotham got too bad it would spread to the rest of the world, and could cause it to cease to exist entirely.

So Danny came, as the Ghost King he had the power to filter in great amounts of the corrupt ecto just by being in the city.

But part of his obsession was protection & helping, Gotham already had a lot of help (Batfam). So he decided to focus on helping not with the problem at the top (villains), but with the problems at the bottom.

The problems at the bottom that would be the root cause in breeding more problems.

After all, many didn't start evil, but need and desperation pushed them towards that path.

So Danny moved to the worst part of Gotham, The Bowery.

What did he do there?

Why open a Daycare of course!

Many parents could not get a good or stable job simply because they needed to look after their kids and could not afford to pay the daycare fee.

Danny wasn't worried about money after all the coffers that he inherited as king would take forever to even make a dent in it, and that's only if he was living a very lavish lifestyle everyday for several human generations.

With this in mind his Daycare fee was pretty much nothing.

He would take care of the children of a very wide age group, while the adults could focus on getting a decent job or even returning to school for a higher education for better opportunities.

How does he care for so many children?

He duplicates himself of course!

At least in the very beginning, after a while he begins expanding his Daycare offering classes and tutoring to the children as well as free food at all times.

Who's helping him ?

His ex-rouges and other ghosts who volunteered.

Lunch Lady absolutely adores having so many people and kids to make food for, and Box Lunch can socialize and play with the other kids while she works.

Ember even volunteers to be the music teacher!

Danny has the help of many ghosts who once they heard his plans were very excited to help, many having the obsession with teaching children or in general. Other ghosts helped with building, expanding, and just generally helping maintain the building in great shape. Even building a very diverse and fun playground.

Of course all this catches the attention of Red Hood. Danny just appears one day on his territory with many others and practically having a building appear out of nowhere with how fast it was built, asking literal pennies to take care of the children, and free food for anyone who asks.

All that gains a lot of attention and is rather suspicious.

But the crime rate has been going down since he opened, which is a good thing.

But many people don't want good things and decide messing with Danny and his Daycare.

Unfortunately for them cuz Danny is absolutely down for violence if he's protecting what's his.

~

Villain: "What a lovely place you have here would be a shame if something were to happen"

Danny who has the audacity to fight Gods and win: "Someone call an ambulance! But not for me!

Also Danny: "These hands are rated E for everyone"

~

Other people:"Should we call someone for help?"

The ghosts:" Nah, let him have his fun he needs his enrichment"

~

Red Hood: "He's very suspicious"

Danny is absolutely covered in paint and singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with the young kids: "Ah yes I'm totally doing normal Gothamite behavior"

~

Lady Gotham is having some self care spa time she's having a grand time: "Should I warn the young king of the other halfa (Jason)? Hmm best not, it'll be more entertaining if it happens naturally"

~

Just an Idea

[pasleymason910]

https://dostaekwondo.com/

[giuseppe-yuki]

money, money, money

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 6.8k

warnings: curse words, allusions to sex, RUDE people, sprinkle of angst (?)

summary: you introduce max to the good and bad sides of having money.

a/n: roughly inspired by crazy rich asians- one of my fav movies!!!

edit: bonus birthday oneshot :)

photo credits from pinterest :)

it was no secret to the majority of the world that your bloodline was rich- filthy rich. with your father’s side of the family owning the equivalent of half a small country and your mother’s side of the family the owners of several major corporations, you had no lack of paper bills in your bank accounts.

along with your siblings and your cousins, you grew up pampered, only going to your country’s best schools and wearing only the latest fashion. you were picked up by a chauffeur in a personal sleek black bentley and had a team of maids at your beck and call. hell, you were even granted access to a private jet in case you wanted to fly somewhere exotic just for fun!

as a child without a sense of the value of money, you thought all children lived like this. every birthday, you expected only the very best from your parents. on your sixth birthday, your parents closed down disneyland and let the kids rampage throughout the park. for your cousin’s grade school graduation, your aunt bought an entire cruise liner (company) and held a week-long party on the water to celebrate. when your little brother passed his driver’s license, your father bought him a customized ferrari pista (that he might have crashed three days in) as his first car. when christmas came by, your grandma flew in your entire family to her private island in first class, and surprised all the kids with their very own mini play homes in the backyard that were each the size of a small apartment. 

slowly, as you matured, you realized how lucky you were. while eating the caviar and champagne at the expensive gala, the homeless were out in the cold, eating the leftover crusts in oily crumpled pizza boxes that they fished out of the trash. each dollar in your bank accounts could go to sick children whose parents couldn’t pay the hospital bills for, and instead, they were going to mega yachts that sat in the monaco bay most of the year. besides, wouldn’t your parents' money run out some time? 

it seemed that many of your cousins and siblings didn’t give a fuck. you watched them exponentially abuse their power, blowing through thousands of grands for luxury cars they drove only once and exclusive rooftop parties where they swam in pools of champagne. one by one, you saw them drop out of school and spend every day as the life of the party. once they rapidly grew out of the excuse of being “young, naive, and not knowing better” their reputation to the general public became “spoiled and out-of-touch” with society. 

you of course, weren’t totally exempt from this. you had to admit that you occasionally spent a few k on a nice little bag for yourself, or had an occasional trip to bali for some sun. however, you focused much more on your studies and helping others than partying. instead of spending your draining your mother’s company assets, wouldn’t it be better to have your own? why wield a black card embellished with your father’s name in gold when it could be your own name? with your own money, you could also donate huge amounts to people in need- all under your name.

slowly, you built up your own credible business using the knowledge you gained, and it soon skyrocketed into a world-wide profitable company. 

even with such success however, all your siblings and cousins laughed at you. running a company? they had chuckled, in their balenciaga suits and miu miu dresses. why do such tedious work when you can just marry into a rich family?

rich family, you scoff, looking at one of your cousins at the yearly family party that your family threw. though she was dressed to the nines, hair done up and jewelry glistening on her neck, she looked absolutely miserable. her husband, that everyone knew she had just married “for the money” stood on the opposite end of the room, flirting unashamedly with a rather uncomfortable looking waiter. that was really funny, considering that your cousin had been bragging about how much her husband loved her at the last function. she had even shoved a picture of her next to a humongous flower bouquet into your face, teasingly stating how “you never had this experience before, huh?”

your brother wasn’t that much different. although he looked rather successful with a big quarter of your mother’s company stocks, you knew that he was in major debt from burning through his bank accounts gambling at casinos around the world. he paraded around the room with his wife, who hung on his arm so proudly, but only because she didn’t know a thing. if you hinted at your brother’s little “problem,” you knew that she would have the divorce papers ready by afternoon the next day. 

as the party went on and the alcohol broke down the painstakingly-built facades of your family’s relationships, you began to stop envying their so-called perfect lives. you realized that all they knew about was money. what did they know about love?

love to you was a kind man with blue eyes that crinkled whenever he smiled at you, light brown hair that was oh-so-soft to run through with your hands, and a soothing voice with a twinge of an accent and slight lisp. love smelled like his soft cologne, and tasted like the spiced sweetbreads he would bake on the weekends. 

max was the total opposite from the cocky and money-hungry douchebags from your home country that were more attracted to your wallet and family influence, which was what you liked about him. even the way you met him was different. usually, the men would make it all about themselves, trying to impress you with their “achievements” (owning three ferraris is not a keystone achievement, david) or throwing technical jargon at you to sound smart. if you somehow invited them on a second date, they always showed up late and would tear off their clothes the second they got in the house, expecting to get to third base immediately. however, you met max through a friend of a friend at a small party in monaco. he could barely look you in the eyes and stuttered through his sentences, which you found quite refreshing compared to the arrogant guys that you usually encountered. on your first date, he got you some rather wilty looking tulips, but also brought some homemade bread that you swore was the best you ever ate. on the second date, he yapped about all the flags of all the countries he knew, but you didn’t mind because he let you ramble your own interests after. before long, you moved in with him in his apartment on the edge of monaco, and had the honor of calling him your boyfriend.

so now, lying in his arms on his tiny bed, you felt more at home than ever. 

the sunlight streams in through the windows above his bed, casting a glow across his face and filtering through his impossibly long eyelashes. you take a minute to admire the angelic scene, before one his cats leaps off of who-knows-where and jumps on his face. 

he yelps, and unwinds his arm from around you to softly push who you assume to be sassy away from his head. 

you flash a glare at sassy for ruining such a nice moment, before picking her up and attempt to “throw” her off the bed. 

unfortunately, max yanks her out of your hands before you are able to.

“hey!” he says in a chastising tone. “be nice to sassy. i’m sure she didn’t mean to.” 

max sits up on the bed and gives sassy a few head scratches before placing a kiss on her soft head. sassy meows at you, which you swear is in a mocking tone. across the room, jimmy sprints over and takes a spot next to max, purring for head scratches too, effectively pushing you off the bed. 

you didn’t understand how your boyfriend couldn’t see that his cats were literally devils. you were basically subject to their abuse every day (i.e. random ankle attacks, knocking over all you fragile items, unplugging your devices, cat hair in your food, and the worst one, stealing max away from you). scowling, you surrender your rightful spot on the bed and pad into the kitchen in your slippers to start the coffee. 

it’s not until both the coffee and breakfast is ready when max finally enters the kitchen, now freshly dressed. the cats scamper around his feet, curling lovingly around his ankles. 

“sorry about that, baby.” he says, pulling out his chair and taking a seat in front of his plate of food. “jimmy and sassy just wanted some love.”

you roll your eyes before settling down into your own seat.

he spears a few sausage links and eggs into his mouth before glancing at the clock. eyes widening, he shoves the rest of the food into his mouth and chugs down the hot coffee.

“so sorry, i have to run!” he sputters out, “i’m going to be late to my engineering meeting!”

he dashes to the bedroom to grab his bag before running back into the kitchen to press a kiss to your cheek in goodbye. 

“have fun at work too, baby!” he yells before the front door slams closed. 

sighing, you finish your plate before washing the dishes in the sink. he was always late for his engineering job at a small office in downtown monaco. max somehow always got to his office in time though, but probably because he raced his little yellow renault clio rs on the streets like he was some type of formula one driver. meanwhile, you had your “work” at home (which typically meant one phone call to your secretary to make sure everything was running smoothly, a quick scroll through your company accounts, and then netflix on the couch).

from the time you met to the time you started dating, you never got to telling max about your family history or your job. it was actually kind of unbelievable that he didn’t notice actually, even when all your clothes were covertly designer and heels were always red bottoms, or when you seemingly traveled out of the country every other weekend for company meetings. however, he never asked, so you never told. 

well, that was until he came home that night. 

his footsteps echo on the ground as he walks out from the bathroom, but stops before he gets into the kitchen

“hey baby,” he says, tilting his head. “what’s this?”

you stop stirring the pasta sauce, looking back to see your freshly showered boyfriend questioningly glancing at your open macbook on the couch.

you must have forgotten to close out of your company bank account tab. quickly, you throw the spoon aside, slam the laptop shut, and throw it to the side. 

“that’s nothing, baby.” you say, rushing back to the kitchen and stirring the bubbling red mixture again. 

“oh-kay…” he says, walking up behind you and reaching over to help strain the pasta noodles. 

while straining the water out in the sink, he flashes you a quick glance. “was it like…” he whispers quietly. “adult material or something?? is that why you didn’t want me to see it?” 

what? 

you look back him, an unimpressed look at your face. “adult material, max???” you repeat back at him. “no. i was not watching adult material on my work laptop.”

“okay, whatever you say, baby.” max says, clearly not believing you. clearing his throat, he continues. “so, um… anyways, my coworker george was talking about how he met his boyfriend alex's parents over the weekend, and i realized that i never met your parents before. do you think we can maybe pay them a visit?"

you freeze, halfway sliding out a plate of garlic bread from the oven. 

“i- um, don’t think that’s wise, maxie.” you reply quietly.

your boyfriend wrinkles his brow. he stops the plating of the noodles and walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“is it…is it because they are assholes?” he asks, looking at you seriously. “cause it’s okay if they are- i understand, because my dad…my dad is not very kind either.”

you can’t help to think about your family in your home country. you could never take your maxie there. they would rip him to shreds, degrading him for being rather plain and destitute compared to them. you would never want to put your boyfriend through your parents, either, who would probably criticize him for wanting to marry you just for the money, even if max didn’t know a goddamn thing about how you earned your funds. 

you rub your face. “no, it’s not that.” you sigh, “i- mean- it’s just complicated over there in my home country. i don’t want you to feel pressure or uncomfortable-”

max cuts you off with a hug, and presses a kiss to your cheek. “i really don’t mind, baby. i’d really like to meet the people who made such a kind and beautiful person like you.”

you blush a little at his words. even if you have an uneasy feeling to your stomach, you nod lightly. it can’t be that bad, right?

if you were to take max over to your home country, there was no doubt he would be exposed to your massive fame and influence there. to slowly ease him into the more luxurious side of your life, you first introduce the luxuries of a private jet the day you take off from the airport.

“a private JET???” your boyfriend shrieks, looking at his speciality boarding pass. 

hurriedly, you shush him to avoid the glares of other travelers within a yelling distance of you both. 

“max, please be quiet.” you hiss into his ear. “yes, it says private jet.” 

maneuvering your cart with your lv-branded luggage to the side of the terminal, along with max’s one small carry-on and two pet cages with the reincarnations of the devil inside, you pull out your phone to check the location of the driver who would take you to the separate private-jet entrance. 

like magic, he materializes behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. 

politely, he takes your horde of luggages and max’s items before politely gesturing towards a massive black lincoln that was definitely not parked there before. 

“this way miss,” he says curtly, before reaching forward to open the car door for you. 

max, snapping out of his confusion, snaps his hand out first and roughly yanks the door open, and nearly hitting both you and the driver. 

“i’ll open the door for my own girlfriend, thanks!” he retorts, glaring suspiciously at the driver, who just shrugs and starts loading the luggage into the back of the car.

when max climbs into the spacious back of the lincoln, you can’t help but giggle into your hand. 

“max, you need to relax,” you laugh, placing a calming hand on max’s leg. “he’s my driver. it’s his job to open the door, okay?”

your boyfriend sniffs, pouting a little. 

“fine.”

after boarding the jet and ascending safely into the air, you settle into your padded chair. meanwhile, max runs around the jet like a little kid, pointing out the “special features,” much to the amusement of the staff. 

“omg, baby, look!” he yells, pointing at a wooden-paneled door behind your chair. “the bathroom is huge!” 

you nod, and hum in agreement, sparing a quick glance at max, who was opening and closing the door as if it would change what was behind it. 

he then charges toward a cabinet near the middle of the plane, which is stuffed to the brim with your favorite snacks. “wow!” he shouts, before sprinting towards a similar cabinet further down, which you know is the alcohol storage area. 

there’s a moment of silence before max steps into view with three gin and tonics and one of your favorite drinks in hand. he carefully sets them down in front of you, batting away a disgruntled-looking bartender who held a half-open bottle of gin that you assumed he was in the middle of pouring when max snatched the bottle away. 

you apologize profusely to the bartender while max watches on, straight up chugging his drinks. 

“this is wild!!” he whispers, pointing to the cups in front of him.

no more than five minutes after sending the bartender away with a little tip, max has already finished two of his three gin and tonics and was already bounding out of his seat to explore the rest of the plane. 

once you hear his exclamations of joy from the back of the plane, you know he has discovered the master bedroom.

before you have a chance to take a sip of your own drink, max basically pounces on you and drags you towards the private bedroom. your boyfriend pushes you onto the soft bed, yells out the door. 

“give us a little bit of privacy, okay?” he shouts to no one in particular, before slamming the door shut. 

he turns back to your figure lying spread-eagle in the bed, and wiggles his eyebrows. 

max is the first one to talk after you both lay on the bed, lips swollen and cheeks red. 

“so…?” he says, running a hand down your back. 

“so… what?” you ask, looking up at him from your position sprawled on top of him. from your point of view, you could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest, his slightly damp hair, and the way his blue, blue eyes study your face. 

“so, when were you going to tell me that you were…like…rich?” he replies.

you maneuver yourself to a sitting position on your boyfriend’s lap, looking him nervously.

“well…” you remark, twiddling your thumbs. this wasn’t the way you thought you were going to break the news to max. 

“i grew up more- comfortably in my home country, thanks to my family and their connections. i was lucky to not have to worry about money at all. when i became a little older, i separated myself from the rest of my siblings and cousins to form and take care of my own company. then, on a business trip, i met you and then.. yeah, you know what happens next.”

an awkward silence fills the room, with max digesting the information and you toying with a stray thread from the bedcovers.

your boyfriend opens his mouth slowly.

“a company?” he questions, turning to you. “what company?”

you scramble off the bed for your phone, and type something quick in the search bar. when you find what you are looking for, you rotate the phone towards your boyfriend, the glowing screen reflecting on his features. 

it only takes one or two seconds for max to scan and decipher the words on the screen.

“YOU’RE THE CEO OF REDBULL??” max shouts.

when the wheels of your private jet hit the bumpy runway, it was midnight. your pilot’s voice crackles on the intercom, politely notifying you that you have arrived, and are free to disembark whenever you’d like. outside, you can see several workers unloading your luggage, along with jimmy and sassy in their pet carriers.

you turn to max, who was intensely staring at his screen, unmoving. you assume he was still in the middle of his fervent wikipedia dive of you and your family’s entire history that he insisted on learning, once he got over the initial shock. 

“max,” you say, nudging him slightly. 

he doesn’t budge, eyes trained like an eagle on his screen. 

you pull on sweatshirt before nudging him again, this time a little harder. “max, come on, we gotta go.”

he snaps up, and pockets his phone before mock saluting you. “yes, of course, miss ceo! whatever you say!”

you roll your eyes. max was a little extra sometimes.

he trails behind you obediently as you climb down the stairs to get off the plane, and into a sleek black limousine. 

before long, you find yourself on the familiar streets and freeways that you used to frequent when you were younger. it feels the slightest bit nostalgic, so different from the streets of monaco that you became used to thanks to max. 

you look back to find max tilting his head at you. 

“where to now, miss ceo?” he asks in a curious tone.

you smile.

”i know just the place.”

even when it was close to three am, the downtown streets were still packed with people. vendors engulfed the street sides, selling delicious soups and snacks beckoned to people, and little shops with bright signs advertised souvenirs, clothing, stationary, and everything in between. the car inches to a stop when you come upon a familiar old building that you remember visiting often as a child. bright glittery letters on the storefront and windows exclaim, “lombardi ice cream shop.” a line of people streams out the door, an ode to the delicious creamy treats that the shop has been selling for years. god, you could basically taste the ice cream on your tongue already.

you practically leap out of the car, dragging max with you towards the front of the shop. the red bottoms of your heels click against the concrete, turning many heads in the crowd along the sidewalk. you hear gasps of shock and a few whispers of your name along the crowd. they automatically parts like moses and the red sea when you get closer. max hesitates, wide eyed, at the edge of the crowd. 

”c’mon,” you laugh, taking his hand and leading him through the people.

an old woman, back hunched with age, waddles out of the kitchen and greets you warmly when you arrive at the counter. without realizing, a warm feeling spreads across your chest. she was basically like a second mother to you, considering you spent your entire childhood frequenting this shop with your cousins and siblings. whenever you visited your home country, you would always make sure to pop by her shop (not that she needed your business- her lines always curled around the block, day and night). 

“ahh!! welcome back, honey,” she exclaims, wiping her wrinkled hands on her apron. “you’ve gotten so beautiful!” throwing a glance at a shy max hesitantly hidden behind you, she sends you an eyebrow raise. “ah, and i see you brought a boy back huh?”

you reach over to give the weathered old woman a hug, blushing. “hello, momma lella! yes, this is my boyfriend max.”

max waves a polite hello, one hand still nervously holding yours.

the elderly woman smiles kindly at max, not hiding how she looks him up and down. “well, i approve!” she states, giving you a thumbs up and a wink. “polite and handsome!” 

without another word, she grabs the largest size cup and fills it to the brim with creamy chocolate ice cream. sprinkling a good amount of sprinkles and shoving two spoons into the cup, she offers it to you. 

“on the house!”

you and max sit on the sidewalk with the cup of ice cream, watching people walk by and cars zoom through the traffic. occasionally, max takes his spoon and shovels a large helping of chocolate ice cream into his mouth. 

“you look like you’re really enjoying the ice cream,” you state, noticing the chocolate smeared over the corners of his mouth.

max just smiles at you in the way he always does, with the dimples and the crinkle in his eyes. 

suddenly, your moment is ruined when a flash goes off in your face.

max jerks back, rubbing his eyes, not used to the invasive cameras that made up your childhood.

you whip around towards the flash, seeing a small herd of paparazzi smiling wickedly. a rare spotting of you in back in your home country for the first time in years? that was payday for them. a flash of anger shoots through you, causing you to throw your wooden spoon at their expensive cameras. unfortunately, it just bounces off of the arm of a short looking man carrying a heavy duty camera.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you yell, shooing them away from max. “can you just leave us alone for one second?”

bothersome paparazzi like this was common when you grew up in a family rich with drama and money. you recall them camping in front of your house, shutters clicking once they saw a sign of movement. whatever mistake you made, like tripping over a small rock or fighting with your sister over a doll, was publicized and dramatized into unrecognizable stories on gossip magazines that were popular in your home country. it was a pity that this was max’s first introduction to these pests. 

you pull max with you as you shove your way roughly through the paparazzi. they deserved it if you accidentally smashed someone’s lens. 

max stumbles behind you. 

“wha-?” he says, holding the half-empty chocolate ice cream. “where are we going?”

you huff. “away from those wannabe photographers- i hate them so much.”

you flip open your phone to call your chauffeur, but your app notifies you it would take a total of ten minutes for him to weave through traffic to get to you both. in the distance, the paparazzi raise their cameras again, shutters clicking as they photograph your pissed off expression and a dumbfounded max next to you. you can practically see the headlines tomorrow- ‘bratty billionaire back in country!!’

like a godsend, a futuristic-looking car rumbles to life next to you. that will probably get you home and away from these fuckers fast, right? hurriedly, you march over to the disgruntled middle-aged man in the passengers’ seat.

“five million for your car- right now.” you say, dead serious. 

the man’s eyes widen comically large. 

“five mi-“

you cut him off quickly, seeing the paparazzi darting closer to max, who was still holding the ice cream and eyeing the cameras wearily. 

“yes, five million. i’ll mail you the check.”

without another word, the man tosses you the keys and hefts himself out of the car. you leap into the drivers seat just as he gets out, and jam your finger on the window down button to beckon max into the car immediately. 

the moment he sits down on the expensive-looking leather seats, you rev the engine and leave the paparazzi behind in the dust. 

it’s not until you are halfway back to your penthouse when max finally speaks. 

“this is a super nice car,” he states, running his hand against the interior side panels. 

you look around, really noticing the detailings of the car. the sides look like they are made with some carbon fiber material, and it seemed like it didn’t even have a door handle- just straps you pull on the corner of the dashboard. 

”yeah, i guess so,” you admit. “i just bought this off of that dude back there in order to get away from the damn paparazzi.”

max wrinkles his brows. 

“you bought-?? what??? you know this is an aston martin valkyrie, right?”

the next morning, when the sun shines through the skyline windows lining your penthouse, you keep your promise by instructing one of your staff to send the promised check to the random guy on the street (fernando, he said his name was). your boyfriend scrolls idly on his phone next to you, probably scrolling through your family’s lengthy wikipedia page again. his cats stamp around your white bedsheets as if they owned the place. you think about what you both could do today. perhaps visit the children’s hospital? before moving to monaco, you frequented many small hospitals, bringing gifts for the children. it always felt good seeing the sick kids light up with joy. or, you could go shopping, although you did spend a little bit much on the random car yesterday. or- 

before you can complete your thought, a familiar ringtone lights up the screen of your phone. your mother’s name lights up your phone, as if taunting you. before you second-guess yourself, you smash your finger into the green ‘answer’ button and place the phone to your ear.

your mother’s voice flows through the speakers, sending a wave of nostalgia throughout your body. 

“darling!” the voice hums, “why didn’t you tell me that you were back in your home country? i had to find out over the silly little paparazzi pictures on the newspapers!” 

damn it, you think, cursing silently in your head. it seemed that the paparazzi from yesterday night had probably sold your pictures to some trashy gossip magazine that had caught the attention of your mother. that meant that you had to face your family sooner or later. 

“hello, mother,” you reply curtly, trying to avoid the topic. “how may i help you?”

your mother tuts through the speakerphone. “oh, your own mother can’t just call to say hello?” 

you groan. “no- i mean yes-“

your mother cuts you off, laughing. “i’m kidding, darling. i just wanted to let you know that i’m hosting a party at our estate tomorrow, to celebrate your arrival! you’ve been in monaco for a god-awful long time. your cousins and siblings will be coming too- i’m sure they’ll all excited to see you after your hiatus in monaco!” 

you hesitate before responding. your first instinct was to say no, because everybody knew full well that the only reason your cousins and siblings even bothered to show up at these kind of events is to save face and show off their new ridiculously expensive clothing and cars, not to welcome you. however, this also gave you a chance for max to meet your parents, like he wanted back in monaco. it isn’t a hard choice when you agree to meet the next day.

max revs the engine once again as he pulls the valkyrie to stop in front of the valet at the front of your family’s estate. 

through the tinted windows of the car, you see one of your snobby cousins, dressed in an jeweled gown, jump at the loud sound and clutch her husband’s arm tighter however, her husband ignores her to get a good look at your aston martin supercar, which makes you laugh. to your surprise, he is not the only one. a few other family members gather around, admiring the hypercar. 

in the passenger’s seat, max’s mischievous grin slowly turns into a frown of nervousness as he spots the crowd of people gathering around you both. you know it must look intimidating, meeting your significant other’s family, especially when they had such high expectations of you. you place a kiss on his cheek. 

“you ready, maxie?” you ask, patting his shoulder comfortingly. 

he nods, before opening the car door. 

like the gentleman he is, max quickly hurries over to the passenger’s side of the car to help you out of the car. you gladly take his hand, and step out of the vehicle daintily. straight away, you can hear the confused mutterings and jealous glares of your family members start up, which follow the both of you into the house. 

like expected, your childhood home is decorated a little over the top. people mingle under crystal chandeliers around staircases draped with real flowers. from the second living room, music drifts out that sounds suspiciously like martin garrix. a fancy bar is set up a room that was usually the dining room, with a bottle of every single alcohol you can ever think of. the courtyard, usually empty save a few plants, was turned into outdoor buffet bar, complete with a five story cake and massive chocolate fountain. 

once inside, max attempts to introduce himself to the first friendly-looking family member that he sees, which happens to be your aunt on your mother’s side. he sticks out his hand, a smile gracing his face. 

“hi, my name is max,” he says, “i’m your niece’s boyfriend.”

your aunt nods politely, shaking his hand. 

“hello max,” she says, visibly studying him, “what are you, a ceo? businessman? sports star?”

”auntie!” you say, shocked, cutting max off from his response. that rude bitch. although she looked relatively kind from the outside, all she really cared about anyone was their power and money. which was probably why your cousin married a mega popstar that was away half the time. like the rest of your family, money trumped true love. “you can’t just start a conversation like that!”

max shakes his head, “no, no, it’s alright. i’m an engineer.”

“ah,” your aunt says, knowingly. taking a sip of her champagne, she continues, “head engineer, huh? of what company?”

thinking he might have misheard her, max corrects her, “oh- no, not head engineer, just an engineer, like in an office.”

your great-aunt’s friendly demeanor automatically drops.

“just an engineer?” she responds, coldly.

you notice how max’s face falls the slightest bit, before he plasters a fake polite smile on his face. he shuffles uncomfortably, glancing at you, as if saying, did i say something wrong?

before you can say something rather rude to your aunt, a hand clasps your shoulder. turning around, your brother beams at you. 

“sister!” he exclaims. “i haven’t seen you in a hot sec. too busy partying in monaco, huh? or doing your silly little business things for redbull?”

he then eyes max, to which he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “who’s this, huh? your boyfriend?”

”yes,” you snap, still a little pissed from your aunt’s rude reaction. 

your brother puts his hands up jokingly, in a surrender position. “damn, okay, no need to be defensive.” 

he sticks out his hand to your boyfriend, who takes it gladly. 

“what’s up, dude,” your brother says, shaking max’s hand. “i saw you pull up with my sister in that sick aston martin valkyrie! you must have some insane connections- the waitlist for that baby is like years long.”

your aunt answers before your boyfriend can. 

“there’s no way he could have bought that car- he’s just an office engineer at some company at who knows where,” she says pointedly.

hearing this, your brother’s impressed look turns into a sneer of disdain. he steps back from max in disgust, as if he had just turned into some horrible monster. he chuckles at you.

”wow, sister, you’ve outdone yourself huh? an office engineer?”

your family, slowly becoming aware of something going on, turns towards the scene. a wide-eyed martin garrix turns off the booming music in the back.

you shove your brother further away from max, causing the glass of champagne to spill onto your brother’s designer suit. 

“what’s wrong with you?” you exclaim angrily. “at least he has a job, unlike you!”

ignoring the bubbling liquid staining his suit and your enraged expression, he turns toward max, still eyeing him with disgust. “how pathetic, leeching off of my sister’s money as a ceo? ha, you probably used her card to buy that valkyrie, didn’t you?”

next to you, stunned into silence, max’s blue eyes begin to fill with tears. 

behind you, your aunt lets out a cackle of laughter, along with a few members of the crowd.

you just about launch yourself at your brother, wanting more than anything to bash his head in.

as if it couldn’t get worse, your mother pushes through the crowd gathered around you both, and grabs your arm before you can make contact with your brother. 

“hey!” she yells, yanking you back. “what is going on here?” 

your brother grins, pointing at max. “your precious daughter went and got herself a little gold digger boyfriend- and look, he’s crying!”

you glance over to max, heart sinking. like your brother said, he had a tear running down his face, and he shook a little with embarrassment. it reminded you of a story that max once told you, how his father had often upset him as a child when he was forced to do karting. an anger flared inside of you. max had only wanted to be a good boyfriend and introduce himself to your family, but was in turn ridiculed in front of a crowd by your hypocrite brother.

your mother turns to max, then turns to you. 

“is this true, darling?” she asks, tilting her head. “does he exploit you for money?”

does max exploit you for money? you can hardly even comprehend the ridiculous sentence. you roughly yank your arm out of your mother’s grasp and march over to max. you lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze. 

you turn towards your chuckling brother. he won’t be laughing soon.

“you’re really one to talk, brother! you think you’re hot shit, with a large chunk of mother’s company stocks. well, wouldn't it be a shame if everyone knew that you are in debt from your uncontrollable gambling problem, hmm? i wonder what your wife feels about that?”

you take comfort in the way the smug smile drops from your brother’s face, now replaced with a withering glare. the silent crowd gathered around the scene lets out a gasp, in light of this news. their focus now was trained on your brother instead of max. 

“and you!” you exclaim, turning to your aunt. “since you think the word gold digger is so funny, auntie, wouldn’t you like to know how your own daughter is one, huh?” 

your aunt jerks back, not used to the crowd’s attention trained on her, along with your harsh words.

”yeah,” you continue, “if you would stop judging people based on their worth in money, you might have been able to see that all she does is spend her husband‘s money on inane things in order to ignore his multiple affairs!”

from the back of the room, you hear your cousin burst into tears while her mother, your aunt, standing in front of you, turns as red as a tomato. 

gently, you lead max towards the gilded gold front door. your family gives you judgemental looks as you make your way through the crowd. turning back one last time before you step out, you address the crowd. “don’t think any of you guys are any better. all you lot do is leech off of trust fund money!”

max stays silent all the way to your penthouse, as do you. after a hot shower, you bundle him up in your soft fluffy blankets until he looks the puft marshmallow man. you can’t help but feel terrible. he silently shuffles towards you, which you respond by pulling his head against your chest. jimmy and sassy watch wearily from a distance on the carpet.

you are the first to cut through the silence. 

“i am so sorry that my family did that to you, maxie.” 

he doesn’t answer, but the new tears that soak your expensive silk pajama set does the answering for him. 

you run your hand through his damp strands of light brown hair, and rub his back comfortingly. 

he pulls back from your embrace to wipe his eyes briefly. 

“why do you love me?” he hiccups, cheeks wet with tears. “like- i have no money, two cats that you hate, and- and- a tiny apartment-“

“max!” you say, cutting him off from his ramblings. “listen to me.” 

you look into his watery eyes, eyelashes wet with tears.

”i really don’t care if you lived in a literal dirt hole with no job, or if you were a formula one world champion. i would love you no matter what. i love your blue eyes and your pouty lips and your lisp, and your cologne, and the bread that you bake, and your little apartment and even though it may not seem like it, i love your stupid cats too.“

he chuckles wetly at the last part of your sentence.

you kiss the top of his head.

”you don’t know how much i love you, max emillian verstappen.”

a devious grin slips onto his face. he shoots you a sultry look. 

“show me.”

and you do.

later, when max lays asleep on the bed, love bites on his neck, face slightly flushed, and back bare, you get up to fetch your phone.

the person you seek is only a few taps away. he picks up on the second ring, politely greeting you even though it was an ungodly hour. you tell him your request, but he hesitates slightly. 

”are you sure-“

you cut your financial advisor off as politely as possible. 

“yes, that’s right. i would like to buy the entirety of my mother’s companies and my father’s estates.”

the sounds of pencil scratching paper fills your ears before your financial advisor lets out a sound of approval. 

“right away, ma’am!”

a/n: APOLOGIES for my week-long hiatus!! take this fic as an apology... your normal spinoff series! scheduling will resume shortly <3

also let me know if you have a better name for this piece- i was STRUGGLING trying to name this one ;-;

[dollishmehrayan]

- 𐔌 . OUR HOUSE IS A VERY VERY VERY VERY FINE HOUSE, WITH TWO CATS IN THE YARD .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ── .✦ ( jujutsu kaisen boys as girl or boy dad )

𝜗𝜚 dollish note : this is my first jjk write and I’m soo happy about it like genuinely I don’t know if you guys will enjoy it but I’m going to try and serve you guys well w this, tw! This is just my opinion and silly write by me anyways hope this doesn’t flop heh…. 😓 ✦

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

GOJO SATORU – GIRL DAD TO HIS CORE ── .✦

Let’s be honest. This man was built to be a girl dad. (We all know this stop arguing yes megumi but still)

Fluffy pigtails? He learns how to braid hair from a YouTube video and suddenly becomes a PROFESSIONAL STYLIST THAT GRADUATED FROM COSMETOLOGY SCHOOL.

Tea parties? He’s attending in a full suit and tie.

“Daddy, I want to fly.” Say less he’s 20 feet in the air doing flips with her in his arms like a sorcerer ( he is ).

Also? No boy could survive having two Gojo Satorus in one household. The laws of physics would collapse AND YOU WOULD BE DRIVEN CRAZY.

GETO SUGURU – BOY DAD AND GIRL DAD OH DUDE, HE’S SOFT ── .✦

( but I wanna see him as a boy dad for this one since we already saw him as a girl dad )

This man? A boy dad through and through. But not in the “go outside and throw a football” way. Noo way more then that.

He’s the "let me teach you to be kind in a cruel world" dad.

Long talks. Quiet moments. They meditate together. They learn compassion.

Matching man buns? YES. The drip is generational ON EVERYBODY getting that hairstyle.

When he teaches his son about curses, it’s soft-voiced, full of wisdom, like bedtime stories with moral lessons.

He wants his boy to be strong but even more than that? To be good and compassionate, a man is best strong when he knows how to wield his emotions.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI – GIRL DAD. RELUCTANT AT FIRST, BUT THEN... WHOLEHEARTEDLY ── .✦

At first? He’s terrified. Tiny baby girl in his arms? His stoic brain MALFUNCTIONS.

“She’s so small what do I do?”

But then she wraps her little fingers around one of his, and he’s like, “Oh. I’d kill for her. I’d die for her. I’d do both in the same breath.”

Fast forward a few years? He’s letting her ride his divine dogs like ponies.

She’s got one of his hoodies on and a tiny wooden sword. She's CHARGING into battle. He’s clapping. Filming it.

She is his tiny queen and he is her loyal knight. No questions asked ( HE WOULD BE A GOOD DAD THEY ALL WOULD BE )

ITADORI YUJI – BOTH. YES. MULTI-CLASSING DAD ── .✦

HE’S GOT THE RANGE.

Give him a son? Bet he’s teaching him how to make treehouses and so on.

Give him a daughter? He’s letting her paint his nails pink while they watch cartoons and he’s crying at the plot twist like, “WAIT SHE WAS A PRINCESS THIS WHOLE TIME??”

Yuji gives equal dad energy to everyone.

His kids are always laughing. Because he is the joy.

And you know what else? He’s the type to pull up to every recital, game, or event in a custom “#1 DAD” shirt. No shame. Loud and proud.

NANAMI KENTO – ULTIMATE GIRL DAD. PERIOD ── .✦

THE APRON. THE HAIR CLIPS. THE GENTLE “PLEASE DON’T RUN WITH SCISSORS, SWEETHEART.”

He’s the most refined, protective, put-together girl dad in the JJK-verse. (He’s living happily in Malaysia in my heart)

Goes to every parent-teacher conference in a full suit.

His daughter is learning multiplication by age 4, sipping juice boxes while correcting herself.

On weekends? Pancakes. Jazz music. Quality time. She’s got a bookshelf before she has a Barbie doll LIKE AWHHH.

You THINK he’d be strict, but no he’s just firm, kind, and always there. Always.

[talkbycolor]

MC's kindergarden . . . ↷

Yanderes as toddlers AU

GN!Reader as a teacher who doesnt get paid enough for this.

CW: just a bunch of weird kids wanting to marry their teacher, keep scrolling

Sunny Day Jack.

the golden child, the angel of the classroom, he is a little devil in disguise, getting his classmates into trouble so that his teacher thinks he is the best

he looks like a mini teacher, he teaches colors to his classmates and shares everything (except the teacher)

uses guilt to convince his teacher, but with that little face and red cheeks, who wouldn't fall for it?

a very intelligent child but he is selfish, he learned to steal cookies from the kitchen and has not told anyone

he gives part of his lunch to his teacher, he likes to eat and sit next to him, he is the child who gives bouquets of flowers picked from the playground (MC already scolded him so he should look for other places to get flowers)

MC doesn't usually scold him often since he manipulates and makes kicked puppy eyes to get his way, a mini bastard

John Doe.

probably autistic and socially anxious child, very attached to MC, they must always accompany him to go to the bathroom, he eats in the classroom during recess time while MC teacher accompanies him

this is the child you have to make sure doesn't go through the trash or eat the crayons

he is actually a very sweet boy, MC usually combs his hair before school so it doesn't bother him, for some reason Doe always has it tangled and dirty

he can't count to 10 with his hands, poor thing

cat-like affection, gives insects or interesting things he found on the playground to his teacher

when the children play house, he is the mascot

Alan Orion.

boy obsessed with outer space, his lunch box and clothes are full of planets and stars

wants to impress MC with his knowledge about space, he usually tells them facts about galaxies and constellations during classes

MC of course would notice certain marks on Alan's little body, he would feel protective of the child (llamen al dif)

he steals things from his classmates, he was already scolded several times by MC

animal lover, once brought a moth he found on the playground into the classroom and Doe ate it, he cried for thirty minutes while MC comforted him

when he plays with puppets he pretends that one puppet is him and the other is MC, usually his games are of them getting married and living in the forest

Peter Dunbar.

a very sociable child simply because he is indifferent to all other people other than MC, he enjoys causing mischief to his classmates who play with MC

MC has to make sure Peter doesn't bite his fingers or scratch his face, a habit he has while concentrating

Peter looks like a bald rat when it's very hot weather, which MC finds funny, but they still puts sunscreen on him so the boy doesn't get sun-burned

even though there are many things that Peter doesn't like, like swimming, fruits or singing, he would do it for MC, adding the biggest embarrassment of his life by doing group dance with his classmates but happy to see his favorite teacher smiling

he would bring sweet lunches to share with his teacher, lying by saying that it is too much and he can't eat it all by himself (Peter loves sweet lunches but he loves his teacher more)

probably draws him and MC on the board with lots of hearts around them, causing the other kids in the classroom to start crying because they want to be the only ones for MC

Ren.

a cutie with his teacher, a bastard with everyone else, he knows how to maintain that image very well to fool MC

he sneaks into the staff room to see you, very attentive, isn't he? sometimes he leaves small gifts on your table

fights with Peter every time he tries to get him in trouble with the teacher, he must maintain his good boy reputation for you to love him!

the last time a girl confessed to him, Ren pushed her into the mud of the playground and made her cry, unfortunately the girl told MC and Ren also cried, not because of the scolding but because he didn't want MC to think that he was bad

once he saw you outside of class time, you were at the supermarket and he panicked because he had fake tattoos that he put on (they came in the packaging of the gum he ate)

MC would come to think that Ren lives in a super religious way since he always draws angels. Ren doesn't draw angels, he draws an angel (you)

Mycheal.

another little manipulator but this one cries every time he tricks MC and gets hugs illicitly (little baby)

he is a very hardworking child in class when it is time to do manual work, he likes to make small paper flowers for his teacher

the baby gets very sad every time he is left out of school projects, he doesn't know why no one seems to like him. surprisingly, he managed to get along fairly well with John Doe until he noticed his interest in MC

usually wraps his tail around MC's leg whenever he feels nervous or sick, that has been an indicator for MC to lull the child

kid who is a cotton candy fan, Peter pushed him while they were playing on the playground and his candy fell to the ground (he cried for 40 minutes)

kitten boy starts purring when MC praises his work

Keith and Tenebris.

as for them, I decided that they were twins in this AU (tenebris still has his blue skin and strange smile), they don't seem to get along very well and have a marked rivalry because they both want MC for themselves

Keith usually hates being in the classroom because his classmates are very noisy, MC has tried to help him with the overstimulation so that it is not an uncomfortable experience, since then Keith loves going to kindergarten

Tenebris does not get along with most of his classmates (if not all), he came close to befriending John Doe and Mycheal because they know what it's like to be treated differently because of how they look, but Doe scared him off by showing him a pair of beetles he found on the playground and Mycheal…well, just by being a liar

Keith is a very dedicated child, he likes to take care of the flowers in the playground with the help of MC, his teacher usually reads books about facts about flowers and apparently Keith is one of the few who pays attention (he cries every time that Jack plucks flowers from the garden to give them to MC)

Tenebris uses a toy guitar from the classroom to serenade his favorite teacher, that always kills MC with cuteness (Tenebris gets angry because it's not a real guitar)

when there are school trips, Keith always takes his teacher's hand and tries to pull them to see everything he finds interesting with them, whether it's a flower or a heart-shaped cloud

Tenebris always takes advantage when playing with swords with his classmates to satisfy his violent need to hurt everyone who likes MC, the game ends up turning into a real battle and Tenebris is scolded

Solivan Brugmansia.

at first glance, MC thought that the boy was always upset and didn't like him being around, but Sol just doesn't know what to do like when he's around his favorite teacher

the quiet child in the classroom, prefers to do his work alone, always takes the opportunity to draw MC with chalk on the playground

the boy is obviously obsessed (and not in a fun way) with his teacher, his parents came to the classroom angry because Sol had his sketchbooks full of sketches of you

you are the only person he allows to hold his stuffed animal, he leaves it with you whenever he goes to the bathroom and asks you to play with it, you don't think it's strange that Sol has a stuffed horse, children have strange toys all the time

Sol is clearly a target for bullying, you know it, you see it, so you have to constantly check that he is not hurt (Peter put gum in his hair once and he cried a lot)

SURPRISINGLY, he is one of the few children who has REAL friends, he has Hyugo, a classmate from another class, Hyugo knows about his crush on MC and is not very secretive, Sol has to cover his mouth or push him to the sandbox to make him shut up

Damon.

puppy love, usually chases other children on all fours and licks snot from his own nose

barks every time someone gets too close to MC but in the end the scolding is always worth it since MC teacher strokes his head when he doesn't promise it won't happen again (it will happen again)

he will believe anything you tell him, he is quite gullible with the things that MC says, if his teacher tells him that he can't dig holes in the playground because giant insects will come out of there that will eat everyone, Damon believes it

sweet tooth, loves chocolate, MC has to be careful with what his students eat, Damon often hides chocolate bars in his pockets and that always ends in MC confiscating the chocolates

Damon has a friend in another class who he calls DG, he is his best friend and again Damon is one of the few kids with real friends in your class, DG knows that Damon likes you but unlike Hyugo he is more secretive

when there are school dances, Damon gives his all, always trying hard, not only because he loves to dance but he also loves when his favorite teacher applauds and praises him

 ♡

[bratbby333]

was just thinkin about gojo if he played college baseball and it kinda spiraled from there…

baseballplayer!satoru who never misses the chance to show off—especially if you’re watching.

he is most definitely the starting pitcher. are you kidding? the aura? the charisma? the energy? he’s cocky and a total diva because he’s the team’s ace. their defensive lineup is nothing without his skills.

baseballplayer!satoru who has your initials stitched on his glove.

he is so superstitious and ritualistic that he will only wear his lucky batting gloves if you hand them to him. he’ll even throw a fit if you don’t give him a good luck kiss before the game because he’s absolutely certain that you’re the reason he’s preforming so well.

he’s not obnoxious about PDA (anymore), but he does always have a hand on your waist or around your shoulders. physical contact of some kind is a must or he’ll get pouty.

baseballplayer!satoru who loves all the snacks you pack for him. he claims he plays better when they come from you and he refuses to get anything store-bought because they don’t ‘taste the same’.

baseballplayer!satoru who gets mildly offended when you cheer too loudly for his teammates or even mention an opposing team.

he pouts and starts to sulk, his eyes narrowing in mock-suspicion. “i’m literally the best player on the field. you wouldn’t betray me like that…right…?” you just giggle and roll your eyes in response, squishing his cheeks fondly. he’s definitely still pouting, but it’s all facade. he’s actively trying not to smile and is hiding the fact that he’s melting on the inside at the sound of your laugh.

baseballplayer!satoru who always pushes himself to the limit and is absolutely exhausted after practice.

he’ll flop himself onto the bed, curling up against you with a huff. “babyyy…my body hurts. please love on me. it’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better.” and after about two minutes of head scratches he's out cold, head firmly planted on your chest as his fingers curl around your shirt. so big and bad on the field but turns to putty in your arms.

he’ll take you on long drives with no destination in mind, especially after a tiring day. the windows are down as the wind whistles through the car. the music is low, the melody soft and peaceful. his hand rests on your thigh, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

he talks about his dreams of going pro, but always ending with, “as long as you’re there, i don’t care where i end up. and when i make it big, im taking you with me. first-class. forever.”

baseballplayer!satoru who sometimes sneaks you onto the field after-hours.

he teaches you how to hold a bat, how to throw a pitch, and would most definitely make terrible innuendos the entire time. “Gotta get a firm grip, sweetheart. Can’t swing properly if you don’t wrap your hands around it just right.” you almost laugh. almost. “Don’t be shy. Give it everything you’ve got. Full body movement. Trust me—hips make all the difference.” this one earns him a soft slap to his bicep as you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face and warmth in your cheeks tells him everything he needs to know.

you show up for him every single day, on and off the field. but don’t think he doesn’t also support you 100%. in fact, his reciprocity always goes above and beyond. when you do something amazing—ace a test, get a promotion, anything—he leaves a gift box on your pillow or takes you somewhere nice. sometimes, he wears your name written on tape over the back of his jersey just to make a point.

“gotta let ‘em know who i play for.”

baseballplayer!satoru who takes you to all the college ragers and keg parties with him.

if someone starts flirting with you, he keeps his cool. however, he will slide in behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he presses a few kisses to your neck. he’ll cast a sly glance at the person before looking down at you, “sorry, this one’s taken. isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he’d say, his smirk never wavering.

baseballplayer!satoru when he wears his backwards baseball cap and smirks down at you? dangerous. at first, he didn’t understand the effects—fidgeting with his hats is a compulsion at this point. but once he figured it out? he does it on purpose. he loves that it drives you crazy.

sometimes, during a heated makeout session, he’ll take it off and put it on you. he pauses, giving himself a moment to drink in the sight of you—lips swollen and eyes low. you gaze up at him with the cutest little smile while his thumbs trace your cheeks. he can’t help but bite his lip and mutter, “shit. you’re gonna be the death of me.”

and after a big win, he’s so hyped up and absolutely buzzing with adrenaline that he almost doesn’t make it all the way home. he pins you against the wall the second the door closes, growling in your ear, “i need you. now.”

his calloused hands run along your body as he roughly tugs on your clothes, lips sucking on your soft flesh while he nips at your skin.

baseballplayer!satoru who has an undeniable praise kink. i guess that's why he's such good team player...

he runs his mouth like it’s second nature—on the field, in the locker room, and especially when you’re beneath him. he's downright filthy. this man is obnoxiously confident, downright obsessed with you, and dangerously good with his words… he whispers praise and filth in the same breath, telling you how good you feel, how pretty you sound, and especially how lucky he is to have you like this. all his. “you like watching me on the field, baby? bet you like this more, huh?” he’s driven by his deep rooted desire for you to always know how badly he wants you. every moan, every arch of your back, every flutter of your lashes drives him crazy, and he’s not shy about saying it. “you hear that? that’s allll you. sounding so damn pretty for me.” “look at you—fuck, i don’t deserve this…my pretty girl—i don’t deserve you.” he gets especially talkative when you’re being quiet. if you try to bite back your sounds, he’ll go feral trying to break you open with his voice alone. “cmon, baby. don’t hide it. let me hear how good i make you feel.” you already know he’s got so much stamina, and if you don’t answer him the way he likes, he’ll thrust even harder, burying himself even deeper, trying to get those sweet sounds to fall from your lips once more. “say it, pretty girl. say who’s making you feel this good.”

and, when it’s just the two of you, the rest world fading into background noise, he’s soft in ways that only you get to see.

in his mind, he'd happily trade teasing smirks for sleepy smiles, his constant sexual innuendos for whispered “i love you’s,” and baseball caps for hoodie-covered cuddles. he still talks a big game, of course. that will never change. but now it’s about the future he wants with you, the tiny apartment he wants to share, the warm meals after practice, the wins you’ll celebrate together.

because to satoru, success means nothing if you're not by his side. you were always the real home run. his most valuable win.

author note! i know this has probably been done before but i have personally never read/seen any gojo x baseball before and the urge to write my own headcannons was too intense to ignore. i hope y'all enjoyed!

dividers from @/cafekitsune

[axetivev]

— Summary: Ratio was the type of man who was too busy with work, you, his husband texted him without an answer, your solution? Go to the campus where he works! After a light batter, Ratio said something that he shouldn't say, insults making you mad at him. What should be his best way to apologize?

— Warnings/Tags: Professor!Ratio, Fashion Designer!Reader, Married!Ratio & Reader, Domestic AU, Fluff & Smut, Slight Angst, Face sitting, Anal Sex, Ridding.

— Words: 1.7k

— A/N: i think this had more smut then fluff,, and rushed, im currently gonna be extra busy,, and it was annoying for me to see that I haven't done a request. but regardless. Thank you for 🍁 anon who requested this fic ! I hope you and many others enjoyed this as much I enjoy writing this !

— Pairing: Dr Ratio x Male!Reader

Veritas ♥️

M/N > Still on work?

Delivered 4:51 P.M

M/N > Ratio?

Delivered 4:54 P.M

There it goes, you knew your husband, Ratio had his phone in silence.

It isn’t a bad thing really, working with many high school graduates who’s answer when asked about why they go to university was always a false copy paste or just a long pause. Every night after work, he often find himself laying his head on your lap, inside of your studio filled by mannequins as he rumbling about how some students were idiots.

You’d just chuckled to his angry mumbles, the way your eyes met with his as he paused his rambles. He’d just stop. Admiring you like a piece of art, his reddish-pink eyes looking at you so lovingly—making him ended up just rolled his body to face the floor and sleep.

You were sitting inside of your studio, 10 minutes passed, soon. The clock shows 5:32 P.M. Spend by you spamming Ratio in worry; what if something bad happened to him? But you shook it off—an idea popped inside your head. Eyes lit up as you stood up from your chair, as some design of your latest commissions, but for now it doesn’t matter. Taking the keys to your car. You jumped to your destination; Campus where Ratio teaches!

The ride was nothing but normal. You even had to time to stop by a bakery to buy some treats, however. When you took one step to the campus, not even in—a lot of students were looking at you like you were a modal. You thought your popularity was rather average, but you swore 89% of the people knew you. Who wouldn’t with those eye catching beautiful designs? Their eyes were widen open, jaw dropped, even some scrambled over their bag, trying to look for something. But you simply shrugged while you gave them a smile.

You swore some kids were dropping from see you as you entered the last class Ratio was in after reading his schedule. There he was, him and two other students in their chair. Sweating as they write something on their paper like their life dependent on it, Ratio? He was sitting comfortably in his desk as his eyes were scanning those students, before his gaze met with yours.

“You haven’t read my messages, Mr. Veritas,” you smiled sweetly to your husband, your hand slowly pushed a box filled by treats you bought. “Curious, are you going home after this?”

Ratio paused for a second. He stayed silent just to stare at you, his eyes fell to your finger. That ring was perfectly places on your digit like a match made in heaven, similar to his, Ratio grunts quietly before he fixed his glasses and continue to look at his two fellow students who jumped as his gaze darkened at them. You just continue to smile, but you felt that twitch inside your guts. How dare he didn’t answer his own husband?

“Ratio… I believe after this you’ll get home soon, yes?” You repeat trying to keep your calm demeanor, Ratio himself just grunted once more. Leaving you on edge, a sigh of frustration escaped your lips. Before you pulled out an ultimatum. “How about this; work or me?”

A smug look was practically plastered on your face, both students looked at each other. They seriously thought something wholesome would happened—but really, Ratio slowly pulled his glasses, putting them to his desk next to some books, the audacity for him to not even looked up to you—“M/N, you know I’m busy currently. These two students are failing so miserably in my class,” Ratio said, his reddish-pink eye looked at your face a while small smirk formed on his lips. He added, his voice low. “work it is.”

Silence.

…This happened more then once really. But the fact two students were looking with a concern expression, you still plastered a smile. That one smile Ratio knew he was fucked, he even paused for a moment. Did he actually…? Ratio actually looked at you with somewhat concern, but you didn’t say anything but storm off from the class. Leaving Ratio who was standing up and tried to call for you, but too late.

“Did Professor…?”

“That’s… wow.”

At home, you were in your studio, yet again. Letting out frustration in the form of designs, your eyes landed on the same commission that had fell earlier. You picked it up as you examinate something people might call masterpiece, but really. It was stressful in your mind when that same client declined the idea and asked for another design. You were about to stood up, but you felt a arm around your waist. Of course, non-other then Ratio.

“M/N…” Ratio spoke quietly, his warm breath reached your ears making you shivered as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, his grip tightened. “…Sorry, please.”

You froze for a second, confused—should you be annoyed or accepted his apology? But before you could form a sentence, your hand was slowly intertwine with his, while Ratio slowly pushed you to your desk, his second hand, originally on your waist moved to your chin. Gently, he pulled you to a kiss which went heated fast.

His tongue dancing with yours, sucking your breath as your intertwined fingers tightened. Only the kiss was broken by you forcing to pulled the he kiss away, but Ratio still wanted more. He let you catch some breath before he pulled you to another heated kiss. Almost desperate. Ratio muttered against your lips. “M/N, please… I’m sorry.”

Your lips parted yet again, a thin shine thread of saliva connecting your lips against his. Your lips was swollen, a tent clearly visible on your trousers. Your face was flushed. Embarrassed by a kiss making you hard.

“Alright alright…” You spoke, voice somewhat raspy, a smile formed on Ratio. He slowly pulled you to a kiss—more tender, even hesitated. “Apology accepted.”

You can’t believe you actually still fall for Ratio’s tricks to apologize. You remembered once his way of apologizing was to sit you down and handle it like a man that he was, now. His way was fucking you dumb to forget what even happened.

You and Ratio were on your shared bed, your clothes were discharged to the floor, you now found yourself sitting on Ratio’s face, how… never mind. His idea anyway, your hands were on the sheets below Ratio who eagerly licking your hole shameless as his hands were on your hip. Preventing them to be closed, you felt his tongue then slowly entered your at first, tight rim.

His tongue—Ratio’s slimy tongue inside of you, at first, he was kind enough to be gentle. But he didn’t hesitate to immediately plunged his tongue inside of you, making you jolted—throwing your head back as Ratio’s grip on your hip tightened, you swore they would marked by his tight his grip was. His tongue opened you up for a solid two minutes as your cock already sprouting precums, he slowly pulled his tongue, making you flinched over nothing but leaving your hole mixed with his saliva. Disappointment was clear in your face.

“Are you sure you could handle it?” Ratio raised and eye bro, you nod. “Its been a while since we have intimacy, don’t you think?”

A small—hesitated smile formed on your lips. “It is…”

Ratio studied your lips, your eyes, he still remembered that day where you had Ratio had sex did the first time, clearly, he remembered who took his virginity. He slowly adjusted himself, sitting up as his head rested on the headrest as for his hands moved you to his lap, your cock and his touching. A light rub, Ratio’s hand slowly lifted you up, as your asshole kissed with his tip. A low groan runs from your lips.

“Tight…” Ratio muttered to himself before he slams you to his cock, you felt him balls deep inside of you, you twitched. “You’re still as tight as I remembered.”

Embarrassed, you cleared your throat. “Veritas.”

“Yes, Mr. Veritas?” Ratio smugly replied, but before you could continue. Ratio thrust his hips upwards. You yelped—soon, moans filled the room.

Even after what felt months passed (actually, only two months) without intimacy, you still felt in so much pleasure by how good Ratio’s cook fills like, the way it filled you up, the way you’d just suck it like a candy, and the most important thing… His cock hitting your prostate repeatedly, making your eyes rolled go the back to your head. You nearly lost control over your body by how fast Ratio’s pace was—pistoling his cock into you as loud moans kept spilling from your lips, you didn’t even realized you already cum, reaching your climax.

Ratio, soon felt his limit is getting closer, he tried to pulled you away, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his chest, panting with watery eyes. “No, inside…” He groaned by your words, Ratio just go faster. Before then, you felt warmth.

Maybe for those two months, his balls develop so much sperm that some of them leaked out, you felt your body tired even barely doing much, just the first round. You knew Ratio could go all night, but, maybe. Your stamina is getting rather lower, you flopped to his chest as his hand brushed over your hair, damped by sweat. “Tired?”

“Yeah…” You replied with a raspy voice. Ratio nodded, your eyes were hazy, you closed your eyes for a moment. Just—a—moment. Then, you felt something warm surrounded by you, water.

Even in your tired state, you still able to collect some power to shifted, making yourself feel comfortable. You felt a squeezed on your hand, you slowly raised your right hand, to find Ratio’s intertwined with yours. You slowly rubbed your eyes, in front of you, of course. A faucet intact to the bathtub, roses, rubber ducks, and foam surrounding you, you look up, founding Ratio reading his book… You smiled, kissing his jaw. He looked down, a smile formed.

“Romantic…” You smugly tease, Ratio rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing.” He muttered.

You fake a pout, your hands moved to his cheek to gently pinched the skin. “Ratio…”

“What now…” “I love you.”

Ratio stared at you for a moment, that smug look on your face, for him, it was both annoying and lovely. His day wouldn’t be complete without seeing that smug expression, a sigh escaped his lips, he shook his head amusingly. Ratio puts down his book, his hand moved to your chin as he slowly pressed his lips against yours, tender and filled by love.

“I love you too, Veritas M/N.”

[antiiqueness]

DANCE WITH ME

character: bakugou katsuki warnings: none i can think of, just kinda sad to sweet and very sentimental >.< words: 1.2k

synopsis:

”Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that.”

notes: i luv him so much i wanna die. i'm in the works for a spooky little AU for him as well as one for tomura so stay tuned for those im vv excited hehe

Growing up Katsuki's parents wanted him to be the best. To do everything. His mother wanted him to find art in more aggressive sports and hobbies. His father however, pushed for actual art. Masaru had a genuine joy for the peaceful and quiet, something of which he couldn’t enjoy as much as he’d wished for with the home he lived in. Nevertheless, in the seldom moments he had of quiet, he danced, and painted, and sat in the garden of their home, enjoying the moments he had to himself and his thoughts.  

As a kid, Katsuki hated how his father would get in specific “moods” where he just wanted to be to himself and his thoughts. He never truly understood it growing up, until he met you. You were so alike to his father; wanting to sit and enjoy the peace you had in random little moments and increments. It was such a foreign concept to Katsuki.  

He looked at you as if you were an anomaly. When the two of you had first begun dating, he just didn’t get it, who would want to be in areas of time where no one could sit and appreciate what you do. At least with volleyball, and boxing, and debate classes you earn respect for doing it and winning.  

He would sit and watch you in seemingly your own world, planting flowers, or annotating classic literature and be brought back in time to when he was 12 years old seeing his dad sit in the garden reading the same exact book with a pencil in hand. Certain foods you would make, and specific songs you would play would remind him of his father and how much Katsuki truly missed him. 

It was raining out the day he saw you swinging on the porch with a cup of tea and a book in hand, when he had called his dad. He wanted to understand it; he wanted that same peace the two of you seemed to hold so dearly. He wanted to bond over it.  

As a kid his father wanted him to take ballroom dance classes, was adamant it would be a healthy outlet to learn to express himself and to get lost in. Mitsuki and Katsuki were not big on the idea though, brushing it off and pursing their interests that more often than not landed them or others in hospital beds.  

Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that. 

“I'm going to my parents for a bit, want me to grab anything on the way home?” Katsuki stood by the door of the backyard, looking out at the back of your head, you sitting silently in a chair, rocking back and forth. “No, I'm okay baby. Thank you.” quietly muttered as if it were a secret, you don’t turn around. He doesn't want you to. He just stands for a moment more before muttering a quick goodbye and closing the door.  

The drive itself is weird. He doesn’t know if it’s age or if he was having an odd midlife crisis, but he doesn’t speak a word the entire drive, just quietly excelling forward.  

When he arrives at the house he had grown up in, spent every memory of birthdays and holidays, where he learned to ride a bike, where he had his first tooth fall out, every memory lingering in the air around the house, he just stands at the door for a moment.  

He doesn’t know what was different this time, but something was. Maybe himself. Maybe he had finally grown up. He was changed, and content with it.  

His attention is only brought back to the present tense when the door opens, and he sees his father's brown eyes staring back at him. Katsuki doesn’t know what comes over him, but without saying a single word, he gently pushes his way into the house and grabs ahold of his father. He felt like a little kid all over again. He just wanted to hug and talk to his dad. He wanted to take those ballroom dance classes. He wanted to bond with him. 

So that's what they did. Masaru was a man of few words most his life, keeping relatively quiet and to himself, but coming completely out of his shell with his son now. He had taught Katsuki everything he wanted to learn with a small smile and a joy Katsuki had never seen in his father.  

By the end of the night Masaru had grabbed an old record and put it on the player, having classical music whirl throughout the house, before turning to Katsuki and teaching him how to dance. Mitsuki watched quietly, quieter than Katsuki had ever seen her, with a smile and tears gleaming her eyes, happy she could see her two favorite people bonding in ways she knew her husband had always wanted to with him. 

Katsuki felt closer to them, he felt as though he had truly understood family finally. He drove home with a smile, a calm, content smile that had rarely graced his handsome face, cheerful all the way up the steps to the home he shared with you.  

Opening the door, he knew his perspective had changed, knew that life was different, a good different, and that he was fortunate enough to share it with you. You had this lopsided smile on your face when you had seen him walk through the door, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him, covered in little raindrops.  

“I assume you had a good night at your parents’ place?” Helping him out of his jacket, you move to hang it on the rack before he stops you and interlaces his fingers with yours. “Let's dance.” he says simply, looking down at you with a look in his beautifully light eyes that gleamed and shone in enamor and affection.  

“What?” you laughed, taken aback and smiling even bigger, “Yeah, I wanna dance with you.” Tossing his phone onto the counter, the same song his father played for him started to drift throughout his new home, the home he shared with you, the home in which he held dearest of all, simply because you existed in it. you were his home.  

Grabbing ahold of you like his dad had shown him how to, he started to sway slowly, leaning his head against yours, and tightening his grip on your hips ever so lightly. He looked so odd, there was no anger, no irritation, no malice in his features whatsoever, just pure contentment. You wanted to live in this moment for the rest of the days you two had together, falling in love with him all over again.  

Katsuki Bakugou was great at many things, but as he grew and matured, he became great at understanding life, and how much peace was truly worth, especially if it meant this is how he could spend the rest of his life with you.  

[sugudoe]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ ✎ ° 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 ! ࣪₊ 𐙚

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being a kindergarten teacher is something you excel at, you even have two students you treat as if they were your own. not that they mind your endless devotion, much less do their dad, 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, if you could spare some attention to him as well.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: papamin!!!!!!! honestly i love papamin so much, i wish i could make that man a daddy. while on the topic, nanami is girl dad code, but for the plot he is sukuna’s and yuuji’s dad. also i loved writing sukuna as a baby, he is such a menace, he definitely was that kid who bite everyone. just posting this because i can’t wait till i post the series i’m making, i had to do something before. divider by: @cafekitsune

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: pure fluff / ooc!sukuna / reader has no gender / no curse!au / modern!au / mention of death and grief (minor character)

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

Yuuji thinks you are his princess, and you let him play with the wood horses and gallops around your desk, sometimes you even play pretend with him, accepting the roses he plucks from the school’s garden and sharing your sandwiches with him. He loves you very dearly, it’s not a secret he keeps that you are his favorite teacher, but it is yours that he is one of your favorites as well.

Now Sukuna, his twin brother, is a whole story. The two and a half years old siblings can be perceived as the perfect opposites, because Yuuji is adorable and expressive in good ways, and Sukuna tries to bite your ankles whenever you move near him sitting on the floor. His sharp teeth are always on showcase by his little smirk, he is a menace.

You know Sukuna might sometimes dislike you, not because you have done him terrible wrong, au contrarie, you have been a good teacher, a good human! He tries to grab your hair with his tiny fists and you put him in your lap quickly, staring at him with a cute smile, he thinks you are encouraging him to leave you bald but he ends up not caring anymore, and decides to snuggle against you and sleep. Only to wake up later with a bite on your wrist.

It’s love for your profession and for the children that you don’t report any of this to the superiors or his parent, you think hopefully that you can change his ways, make him better. It does work, credits be given, he used to be worse! He used to bite the other students, now his teeth are all over your and, unfortunately, his twin.

It’s something you try your best to control, gods be good, Yuuji only whines before slapping his brother’s head, and then Sukuna cries and comes to you. You open your arms and again, he is biting you.

“Ow, Kuna!” You move his head away from your skin. “What do you eat to have such sharp teeth, hm?”

He doesn’t answer you, his big eyes are filled with tears and he is wiggling towards any skin of yours to sink his canines.

“C’mere.” You grab him and adjust the baby in your hips, before moving towards the box filled with toys and grabbing a plastic one, you take it to the class bathroom and wash it, while Sukuna sits on the balcony, staring at you with his sad puppy eyes. “You are so cute, y’know that, right?” He nods, which takes you by surprise. “You can not keep biting me anymore, Sukuna, you get this?”

As expected, Sukuna doesn’t answer this time. He only gets what he wants.

“But let’s make a deal, you don’t bite me or Yuuji, you bite this whenever you feel like it, hm?”

Sukuna is not supposed to be with pacifiers anymore, something requested by his parent and passed to you through your boss. So it’s a little secret to let him have the blue whale in his mouth, he bites the thing so deeply that by the end of the week, you have to change it for a red rubber duck.

It’s keeps going like this for a couple more days until you notice the progress being made, Sukuna always has the toy by his gripping hands or in his pockets, and whenever he falls to the ground or gets pushed by a classmate, his little eyebrows crunch into an angry face. You think he is going to jump the kid or run at you and be a little vampire, but instead he grabs his toy and starts to violently munch on it.

It’s adorable, it makes you want to eat him.

But you noticed, obviously you did, how Sukuna has anger issues, and being a baby he has no idea how to control the anger but to externalize it with violence, and you gave him a escape plan. Now, he isn’t so angry anymore, sometimes he just squeezes the little toy, he also doesn’t spend his time with only you or his brother, he makes some new friends such as little Uraume, who follows Sukuna around and both keep sharing their lunches.

You do find one more problem arising, anytime Ijichi, who you learn is their butler, comes to pick the boys, Sukuna cries desperate for having to return his toy. You tried to let him have but the man refuses and your superior reprimanded you once, after catching you trying to give it. The next day, you notice quickly that Yuuji and Sukuna both have little red teeth marks on their arms.

You sigh desperate.

After class is over, few days later, Ijichi is late for the pickup, so you sat both Sukuna (sucking his little toy) and Yuuji (talking your ear off) down. They stop what both were doing and stare at you, one with pure sparkling eyes and the other with a raising eyebrow. You laugh at that.

“My darling cherubs, we need to talk.” You sit on the floor. “Kuna, you are not allowed to keep biting your brother, you know that. And you can’t bite him as well, Yuuji. You have to go to your papa, okay?”

The little one nods at you.

“Sukuna, honey, you can’t bring the duck home, we tried. But you can find another one to bite, hm?” He doesn’t answer, of course, he is two years he is not going on a quest for a rubber toy. “I’ll talk to Ijichi-san, for you, okay buddy?”

It takes you by surprise when Sukuna gets up and moves to sit on your lap, snuggling his face to your chest. When your arms go to close, Yuuji follows his twin and sits on you as well.

“Thank you, sensei.” Kuna’s little voice melts your heart even more, you hug them back instantly.

“I’ll do anything for the both of you.”

You don’t notice the presence behind you, or the fact that it’s been there since you sat down, and payed attention to everything you said, but mostly by how Sukuna went for you instantly and thanked you. The little bundle of angriness has his eyes closed, but his brother stares behind your shoulder and gasp, wiggling out of your touch and running towards the door.

“PAPA!” Yuuji screams making your heart jump. You turn back, staring at the scene. A tall blonde man, with formal clothes, kneels to the floor before opening his arms and grabbing Yuuji on his arms, kissing the pink hair of his baby.

You have heard the gossips towards the twins’s father, how exceptionally good looking he is, most charming and polite man anyone has ever seen or meet. And that he is single.

Of course, because of Ijichi being the one to bring and get the boys and the first teacher-parents’s meeting of the year being in just a few weeks, you haven’t met the man yet, but he here is, Nanami Kento, in all his glory.

You get up with Sukuna at the same time Nanami get up with Yuuji, and you notice right away that in his other hand he holds a bouquet of purple tulips.

“Look, Kuna, your papa is here.” You bounce the sleepy head on your lap, he opens his eyes before smiling a bit, and closing it again. “I think he got pretty tired after the playground today.” You laugh quietly before staring at the man, his eyes on his baby, a small smile on his face as well.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n-sensei.” It’s the first thing he says to you, his voice shaking your smile for a bit. “I’m sorry about being so late, the driver got busy with some stuff, so I had to come. I got you this, for the inconvenience.” He presents you the flowers, in your mind, he was going on a date, never in millions thoughts you would expect this.

“Oh, oh! Thank you, they are beautiful.” With your spare hand, you grab the flowers and smell them, smiling sweetly.

“I told papa you like those, sensei.” Yuuji says, with his eyes closed and large smile.

“Thank you, Yuuji, my charming knight.” You put the flowers on your desk before giving a pat to his head. “And thank you again, Mr. Nanami.”

“Again, I’m very sorry. But now, I think it’s time we go, right boys? Your sensei deserves to rest after the two of you.” Nanami grabs Sukuna from your arms, the boy open his eyes again for a second before falling into slumber. You help the male grabbing the twins backpacks and both of you move towards the parking lot.

When Nanami puts the babies in their seats, he turns to you grabbing the bags.

“Thank you for being their teacher, is not an easy job, but they both really like you.”

“It’s my pleasure, really. Sukuna and Yuuji make this job really worth it.” You answer sincerely, the door to the car is closed and the boys can’t hear you.

“I heard what you said to them, about the bites. I’ll get the toys for Sukuna, thank you for caring for him.“ Before Nanami gets into his car, he stops and turns back at you. “Would you need a ride? After all we did kept you here for longer than anticipated.”

You stare at the sky, dark clouds already reaching the sunset orange and pink, even the moon hangs more brightly than ever. You are inclined to accept, but you hold yourself.

“I would, any other day, but there is so much I have to do in the classroom and to grade the kid’s exercises, but thank you for the offer, Mr. Nanami.” You both exchange a smile before you wave at the awake Yuuji, staring at you by the window.

The next day and the others after, surprising everyone, Nanami is the one picking his sons up. His back is always tainted with the sunset from the corridor’s widows whenever he stays at the door, and a dozens of mothers and staff keep staring at him, searching for any opening to create a conversation. You are putting Yuuji’s bear beanie on, when you hear your boss asking Nanami for coffee with the excuse of talking about the boys, you laugh silently before grabbing the twins’s hands and moving towards their dad, giving an scape for him to move away from the woman.

“No need for the coffee ‘date’, the parents reunion with the teachers is this saturday, we all can talk there.” You say a bit loud, enough to send the message across, and all those people ready to jump at the blonde male move away.

“Thank you.” He whispers before grabbing the boys in his arms. “No ride today?”

Every once in a while, after the first time meeting Nanami, he has been asking you if you need a ride, and with a strength you don’t know where came from, you refuse nicely. It’s not that you don’t want, would be stupid to, it’s more for the fact that he is dreamily, you wouldn’t be any better than those who salivate at the sight of him. You could be worse.

“Not today, Mr. Nanami, these two made a mess in the bathroom, although I think Sukuna has a talent for arts, he painted the walls really well.”

“God, you’re joking.” You sign no with your head and the man sighs. “I’ll ask for the price of repair, please don’t worry about it, it’s my kids, I’ll fix it.”

“No need! Seriously, I believe just water and soap and it’ll be fine.” You grab Sukuna’s cheeks and he hides his face in his dad’s chest. “But if not, it’ll be a cute memory in the future, when they move classes or school.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Yuuji squirms. “We’re staying with you forever, right Papa?”

Oh.

“C’mon, buddy, time to go home.” Nanami laughs his answer, and you move with them, holding their backpacks. It’s a little ritual now, you could say.

You wave them goodbye and return home that day with a slight tremble in your fingers, after this year most likely you wouldn’t see them ever again, and that fact made you terribly sad. You would miss pealing the fruits for Yuuji and being gifted half of it, would miss even the mark bites of Sukuna little mouth, even though he hadn’t been a menace in a long time now.

Admitting, you would miss Nanami and his lovely smile, the way he would ask you for a ride anytime. You should accept it, you know, but could you move on from this little crush you’ve been harboring, if you are meant to never see him again? Doubt it, no one can get over the Nanami Kento.

You sleep with those thoughts, these little moments you had with him and the sweet and gentle and chaotic memories you had with the twins. It’s a bittersweet feeling teachers have, you should be used to it by now, dealing with the fact that the babies don’t stay babies forever, only in your heart and memories. But there is something in that little family that shakes your core, that moves your mind and warms your heart, something that scares you.

Saturday comes but your anxiety stays. You decorate your classroom with a large table filled with charcuterie boards and juices, there is also paintings of the kids hanging by the walls, presents to give to their parents. All of them are on the corridor, you call for one couple after the other, for the intimacy of talking about their children.

You notice how each kid can resemble their parents in a comical and adorable way. Megumi, for example, who has his mom messy hair but his dad scowl, Nobara is energetic like her mom, and sensitive like her daddy who cries when gifted her painting.

You also see how they can be with their babies. Toge’s parents who are elated with your hand signs, and how you explain that you learned it in two months for the boy and has been using and teaching it in your class, for the other students to communicate with the him. Maki’s and Mai’s parents are stiff and bored, and you take notice of that to pay more attention to the girls, help if needed anything.

You do your job perfectly, but your eyes always go searching for a blonde man whenever you go call the next parents. He is not there yet, and you wonder if he won’t come. Maybe job related, maybe he forgot, you try to not be sad.

When you are taking Nanako’s and Mimiko’s fathers to the door, waving them goodbye, you catch sight of a man with beige suit and blue shirt, in his hands another bouquet of purple tulips.

“I told you we should have given something.” Mr. Geto whispers while staring at Nanami.

“Love, that’s not a ‘Thank you for being my kid’s teacher’ bouquet.” Mr. Satoru answers with a smirk your way.

“I miss when you would give me flowers.” Geto answers, his voice low because they are already by the end of the corridor.

“Huh? I gave your flowers last week?!”

Nanami and you are staring at the couple, until their figures disappear and both of you stare at each-other, smiling fondly at first and then laughing a second later.

“I’m guessing these are for me?” You ask when you move inside the classroom, Nanami following behind. You turn to him, and he nods, giving you the bouquet, perfumed perfectly. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I was late, the boys wanted to come as well but I had to keep them occupied and tired.” You nod laughing, before pointing at the table in front of your desk, putting your flowers there, he sits and you move towards the wall, grabbing two drawings.

“These are for you.” You sit by his side instead of in front of the man and give him the papers, he has a sweet smile while admiring the drawings. “I asked the class to draw their family, hasn’t had the time to check yet, but I hope it’s better than the one I saw earlier: the girl draw only her sister and their cats.”

“It’s perfect, don’t worry.” Nanami has his eyes on both drawings, side by side. You can tell which is which by the colors and traces, but none other, the art is basically the same. “This is Ijichi in the car, how cute.” Nanami points at the figure in a black suit driving a car besides the house in both paintings. You stares confused at the fifth stick person, besides Nanami and the twins. “Is that…?”

“I think so…” Your hands move to your mouth, hiding your growing smile when you notice characteristics in it that resembles you, specially a rubber duck in your hands, in Sukuna’s drawing. “I’m flattered they consider me family.”

“They are not wrong.” Nanami stares at you now. “That day we meet, you were helping them with one thing I had no idea how.” He moves the drawing to your desk. “I’m not their biological father, don’t know if you know that.” You don’t, so you keep yourself quiet and let him speak. “I was their godfather, been friends with their dad ever since we were little. Itadori Jin, great guy, that’s where they inherited that beautiful pink hair.” Nanami has a sad smile in his lips that break your heart. “He and his wife died in a car crash, first date since the birth of the babies, just two months old. Their grandfather was adamant on keeping them, but he realized he needed my help, so he let me adopt them officially.”

He sighs before grabbing his thighs.

“Recently I told them about their parents, that’s why Sukuna started the biting, his sorrow is physically showing. I tried to help but didn’t knew how, but you did, you handled it better than I could.”

“You are still a great father, they might not have come from you, but they are yours. And you did helped them, Sukuna might have received some slaps from Yuuji, but Yuu always hugged him whenever it became too much, and he listened to me instead of throwing a tantrum.” You hold his arm for a second before removing your hand. “You are raising them very well, Mr. Nanami, it’s not easy to be a parent, but you are doing fine.”

“Thank you, and please call me Kento.” It’s not professional, but you nod.

“Okay… Kento.” You whisper his name like a secret, and you wonder if you feel right, but it tastes like honey in your tongue. It’s just a second of both of you staring at each-other for his eyes to move to your lips. You should move back, but you don’t, nor you can. Instead, your eyes go to his pink lips as well. “We should wrap this up, it’s late, right?”

“Yeah, we should.” But none of you move, eyes moving to eyes and lips, over and over, you wet your lips, he groans and lunges at you. You accept him easily, moving your hands to circle his broad shoulders and touch his neck, while his large hands take your waist.

You shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels wrong to not be doing it. So you allow yourself to be kissed hungrily by Kento.

There is three knocks on the door before you both jump apart, your boss, the principal, makes her way in, eyes shinning at seeing Nanami.

“Mr. Nanami, so good to see you here! Would you like to come and have that coffee we were taking about some days ago?”

Kento looks at you, his hair is a little messy and his mouth is red, he looks even more ravishing than before. You cough awkward, grabbing your flowers, bag and the twins’s drawing before moving to his side.

“I’m so sorry, Principal, but Mr. Nanami is giving me a ride home.” The man has his hands on your back in an instant, moving both of you out of the class. “I see you monday.”

The two of you leave the baffled woman behind, Nanami has an eternal perfect smile charming his face, making you want to kiss him even more. Which you do, when he closes the door he opened for you, and enters the car you kiss him, when you both stop at a red light you kiss him. And when he let you at your house, his hands again in your back, he kisses you.

You are too tempted to bring him inside, even more to have your way with him, but he beats you to it, asking you to go out with him the next day.

It’s just the beginning of your blooming relationship, flowers every week, restaurant dates, kisses at every opportunity. You both keep yourselves occupied and yet reserved. He gives you rides home after most staff and students are gone, the boys happily talking with you all the way to your house, and he leaves you at your door with a peck the babies don’t see.

It’s at your last day of the year, all your students glued to you, crying red faces you promise them to always be there when needed, giving the parents your personal number, they happily accept it. Yuuji and Sukuna are the most devasted, their little hands keep you from moving far away from them, and when Nanami comes to pick them up, Sukuna cries together with his brother, taking you by surprise.

You tell them bye and run to your apartment, where you prepare a whole meal and dress nicely, soon you hear the door knocking. When you open, it takes three stunned seconds before two little babies are running to your arms, screaming happily to see you.

“Now it’s a good time to say, Y/n is staying in our lives.” Nanami says while hugging you, both boys in your arms holding you as well.

“Forever?” Sukuna asks, Yuuji stares at you waiting for the answer.

“Yes, my cherubs, forever.”

[cosmiclily]

How do you write Vi so well 😭 I love our bby girl and she deserves the world!

Can I ask you for some real-life story with her? I’ve been thinking about reader who startsrking at a local grocery shop, a small one with regular customers and Vi is one of them. And the reader sees her in all states - dressed up for a date, hangover, dishelved after break up, etc.

And somehow her and the reader hit it off after Vi’s one particularly bad day. What do you think about it? And I can imagine an old lady working there as well who knows Vi since she was a little kid and can tell there is something going on, maybe she pushes Vi to make a move? Omg so cliche but that’d be sweet!

under fluorescent lights

wc: 3.1k

notes: thank you so much!!! and my secret to write Vi so well is to be gay ! 😼 also yes she deserves the whole universe 😭

Going to your dream college had its ups and downs. On one hand, it was your dream college—you were studying (mostly) what you loved, the professors were great, and best of all, you had finally moved out of your parents' house.

On the other hand… you had to move out.

Which meant a brand-new city, brand-new bills, and a job at a funny little convenience store owned by the weirdest and funniest old lady, Babette.

Your college was in a ridiculously expensive city, so you ended up renting a tiny one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. To make ends meet, you picked up a job at the local convenience store, and thankfully, Babette was understanding about your erratic class schedule. She was patient, and let you take extra shifts when you needed—but that also meant sometimes getting stuck with night shifts, which, yeah, you weren’t exactly thrilled about.

The first few days were rough. Learning the register was hell, but you found solace in stocking the shelves, mindlessly organizing cans and boxes while the store’s soft background music played.

And the days had started blending together—uneventful, repetitive—until she walked in.

“Hey, Babette.”

The pink-haired girl strolled into the store like she’d been there a million times before. She greeted Babette like an old friend, her voice smooth but casual, like she belonged.

“Vander asked me to pick up his order” she continued, leaning against the counter. “Said he already paid for it.”

Babette barely looked up from the crossword puzzle she had spread out on the counter. She spent most of her days pretending to work, occasionally glancing at the security cameras like they were more interesting than the actual customers.

“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand. “Y/N, can you grab the green box from the back for me, please?”

You nodded, slipping into the stockroom. The box was heavier than you expected, but you carried it back to the front, struggling a little, and set it on the counter. “Here.”

The girl straightened, rolling up the sleeves of her hoodie as she reached for it. That’s when you noticed her tattoos—inked lines running up her forearms, disappearing beneath the fabric. Her hands looked rough, but somehow soft at the same time, and for a fleeting second, you wondered how they would feel.

She glanced up at you then, her lips curling into a small, almost shy smile. The scar on her lip caught your attention, making it impossible to look away.

“Thanks” she said, voice quieter this time.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the box, and your stomach did something stupid.

You swallowed, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep your hands from lingering.

And just like that, she turned, carrying the box out the door like it weighed nothing, and you just stood there, watching her go.

Babette didn’t even look up from her crossword. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”

Your face burned. “I am not.”

“Mhm.” She circled something on the paper. “She’s in here all the time, you know. If you want to make a move, at least try not to look like a deer in headlights.”

You groaned, turning away—but even as you went back to stocking the shelves, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart was still racing.

──────────────────────

And Babette was right.

Vi—you had since learned her name—was at the store all the time.

Every Thursday, without fail, she came by to pick up the green box. On Mondays, she bought two cans of Red Bull and a packet of hot chips. On Tuesdays, she sometimes stopped by on her way to the gym—if her athletic clothes were anything to go by. (And god, were they distracting.)

One time, she walked in while you were stacking cans of beans, and the second you caught sight of her—messy hair, hoodie slung over her shoulder, muscles on full display—they all came crashing down.

She had laughed. Loudly.

You had wanted to crawl into a hole.

And then, throughout the week, she would just… appear.

Some days, she actually shopped. Other days, she wandered the aisles like she had nowhere better to be, hands shoved into her pockets as she examined products you knew she wasn’t planning to buy.

Once, she came in, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately turned toward the snack aisle.

You had stared after her, dumbfounded, until Babette cleared her throat behind you.

“You’re staring again*,* sweetheart.”

“I am not.”

“You are.” She smirked knowingly. “You should say something before she gets tired of making excuses to come in here.”

That thought had never left your mind.

So, after that, you started paying closer attention. Not just to Vi, but to the clock, the calendar. You noted her patterns, tried to prepare—ensuring you looked at least somewhat presentable when she walked through the door.

And if you maybe, kind of, adjusted your shifts so you’d be there when she usually stopped by?

Well.

Babette didn’t have to know that part.

But then exam weeks came, and all your carefully laid plans to finally work up the courage to get Vi’s number came crashing down.

You had to pick up mostly night shifts so you’d have time to study and actually take your exams, which meant going weeks without seeing her. And honestly? That didn’t do wonders for your mood.

“You look like a zombie.” Your friend said, eyeing you with mild concern as the two of you sat in the library, cramming before one of your final exams. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“No…” You whined, dropping your head onto the open textbook in front of you. “I’m working at night, studying all the time, and I haven’t seen my wife in almost a week. I’m suffering.”

They snorted. “You can only call her your wife when you actually gather the courage to ask for her number.”

You groaned, waving them off. “I was getting there! But then life happened.”

And then, even after your exams were over, Vi still didn’t show up.

At first, you assumed your schedules just weren’t lining up. But then she missed her usual Thursday pickup—the oneconstant you had been able to count on—and that’s when you started to worry.

You wanted to ask Babette if something had happened, but you weren’t sure how to bring it up without making it obvious you’d been paying way too much attention.

That’s when on Friday night she —finally— showed up.

Except she looked… different.

Her usual hoodie and sweatpants were gone, replaced by an outfit that made your brain short-circuit. Her hair was sleeked back, her cologne reached you from across the store, and when she stopped in front of the wine section, scanning the bottles, she looked like she had just stepped out of a magazine.

You swallowed hard, gripping the counter in front of you for dear life.

Where the hell was she going dressed like that?

She made her way to the register, and before you could think better of it, the words were already slipping out of your mouth.

“You look different. Got a date or something?”

You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t clawing at your own insides with curiosity. Like you didn’t care way more than you should.

Vi grinned, setting the bottle of wine on the counter. “Yeah, actually. Do you like the fit?”

She took a step back, giving you a playful little twirl to show off the outfit, and—god—you wished you had just kept your mouth shut.

Because, yes, you liked it. Too much.

“Yes” you said, forcing yourself to smile through the sudden pit in your stomach. “You look really pretty.”

And you meant it. But you kinda wished she was dressed like that for you.

After Vi’s date, she started showing up even less. She still came by every Thursday to pick up the mysterious green box, but she didn’t linger anymore—no more aimless wandering through the aisles, no more pretending not to notice you watching her.

It was pathetic how much you missed it.

“You could look a little less… dead, dear” Babette commented one afternoon, barely looking up from her crossword puzzle. “I told you to make a move on Vi. You took too long.”

And she was right. If you hadn’t been so slow, maybe that bottle of wine would’ve been for you—not some mystery girl she was seeing.

So once again, your days started to blend together.

College. Work. Home. Rinse. Repeat.

Thursdays became the only bright spot in your week, the only time you got to see Vi—hoodie pulled up, hands shoved in her pockets, mumbling something about Vander’s order before leaving just as quickly as she came.

You lost track of how long that routine lasted—until one particular Saturday night shift.

Because Vi walked in again.

But this time, she looked pissed.

Her brows were furrowed, jaw tight, knuckles raw. She stomped through the aisles like she was ready to punch the next person who looked at her funny. Without hesitation, she grabbed a bottle of vodka, a pint of ice cream, and an obsceneamount of hot chips.

You barely had time to process before she was at your register, slamming the items down with a little too much force.

“Rough night?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, and all she did was sigh—loudly.

“You could say that.”

The two of you fell into silence as you scanned her items, the beep of the register the only sound between you.

You hesitated before asking, “Want to talk about it?”

Because, honestly, you weren’t sure if her bruised knuckles were from a fight or not, but she looked like she was ready to kill someone. And if she got arrested, your weeks would go from boring to extra boring. Plus, that very nice face of hers? Yeah, it didn’t belong in prison.

Vi sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just…” She trailed off, exhaling sharply through her nose before continuing. “I was seeing this girl, and everything was great. Until I found out she was cheating on me.”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your face neutral.

Vi let out a humorless laugh. “And then there’s the other shit—home, college, everything—and I don’t know. I kinda lost it?” She glanced down at her raw knuckles, flexing her fingers like she was only now realizing how bad they looked. “Guess I needed to blow off some steam.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, scanning the last item before handing her the bag.

“Well,” you said, offering a small smile. “If it helps, I think vodka and an unreasonable amount of hot chips are definitelythe right call.”

That got a snort out of her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned on the counter slightly. “And, you know, if you ever need to not get into a fistfight and just complain about life to someone, I do work here almost every day.”

Vi’s lips twitched, almost like she was fighting a grin.

"Noted" she said, grabbing the bag. But before she turned to leave, she hesitated, glancing at you like she was debating something.

Then, with a sigh—like she had finally made up her mind—she asked, “Do you want to go eat an unreasonable amount of hot chips with me?”

You blinked, taken aback by the invitation.

Your eyes flicked to the clock. There were still a couple of hours left in your shift, but Babette wouldn’t mind if you closed a little earlier. It was for a good cause, after all.

“Yeah,” you said, already reaching for your jacket. “I do.”

──────────────────────

That’s how you found yourself in the back of Vi’s pickup truck, parked under the dim glow of a streetlamp, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you and sharing a pint of cookie dough ice cream with a single, slightly bent spoon she had found somewhere in her car.

The night air was crisp, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. The sound of distant traffic and the occasional chirp of crickets filled the silence between sips and spoonfuls.

“So” you started, leaning back against the side of the truck bed “tell me about this girl.”

After all, that’s what you were here for—to let Vi vent, to be a good friend. Even if you kind of hated that you were asking in the first place.

Vi exhaled through her nose, taking a swig of vodka before passing the bottle back to you.

“I don’t know” she admitted, stretching her legs out. “We started hanging out after you disappeared from work. It wasn’t even serious—we weren’t, like, dating dating—but she said we were exclusive.”

You hummed, swirling the bottle in your hands. “And clearly, she had a different definition of ‘exclusive.’”

Vi let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Yeah. Caught her texting some other girl when she thought I wasn’t looking. Turns out she’d been seeing someone else the whole time.”

You frowned. “What an asshole.”

“She really is” Vi agreed, stealing another bite of ice cream. “And I feel stupid because I didn’t even like her that much.”

“So why are you this pissed?” you asked, tilting your head.

Vi hesitated, tapping her fingers against the truck bed. “…I don’t know.” Then she looked at you, really looked at you, and something in her gaze softened. “Maybe it’s because I was wasting my time on the wrong person.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could say anything, she smirked.

“Or maybe I just really wanted an excuse to drink vodka and eat an ungodly amount of hot chips with you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Smooth, Vi. Real smooth.”

She grinned, bumping her knee against yours, the warmth of the small touch lingering longer than it should have.

“And I didn’t disappear from work,” you corrected, making dramatic air quotes. “I had exams. Very important ones. I was basically a zombie for three weeks—working the night shift, studying all day… Life was hell.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Damn. No wonder you looked like death warmed over that one time I did see you.”

You gasped, shoving her shoulder playfully. “Rude.”

She just chuckled, taking another swig of vodka before passing the bottle back to you. “I was kinda worried, though,” she admitted, scratching at the label on the ice cream container. “But I figured if I asked Babette, she’d just tell me your life was none of my business.”

You snorted because, honestly? That sounded exactly like Babette. “Yeah, she totally would. She’s nice in, like, the meanest way possible.”

Vi laughed, nodding. “Right? I once asked her if she thought I looked good in my red hoodie, and she just went, ‘It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen on you, dear’ and then walked away.”

That made you laugh so hard you almost choked on your sip of vodka. “She’s brutal.”

Vi grinned, watching you with something unreadable in her expression. “Yeah, she’s been like that since i was a kid.” She chuckled “But i’m glad you’re back.”

The words were simple, but something about the way she said them—like she meant them—made your stomach flip. You looked at her, at the way the streetlight cast soft shadows across her face, at the way she was watching you like you were something worth paying attention to.

And maybe it was the vodka, or the way the night wrapped around the two of you like a secret, or maybe it was just her—the way she looked softer like this, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the laughing, eyes a little hazy but still locked onto you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

If you were to die right now, you’d die happy.

Vi tilted her head, studying you. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. “Sometimes you stare at me, and it’s like you go somewhere else.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. It’s just… silly.”

Vi narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced. “Silly, huh?”

You nodded, but before you could say anything else, she leaned in just a fraction—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, close enough that you could count the freckles scattered across her nose.

“Try me,” she murmured, her voice low, teasing. “I like silly.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs. She was too close, too Vi—all lazy grins and rough edges, but somehow still soft in moments like these.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, sitting in the back of her pickup truck, a half-finished bottle of vodka, packages of chips and a pint melted ice cream between you, the distant hum of the city as your only witness.

“It’s just…” You hesitated, glancing away for a split second before meeting her gaze again. “If I died right now, I think I’d die happy.”

Vi blinked, her smirk faltering. Something unreadable flickered in her expression—something almost tender.

“That’s a little morbid” she said, but her voice had lost its teasing edge.

You shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “Maybe. But it’s true.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t heavy, wasn’t suffocating. It just was. Comfortable. Unspoken words and lingering glances filling the space between you.

Then Vi shifted, her fingers reaching out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across your face. The touch was light—so gentle that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can I try something?” she whispered.

You nodded, breath hitching in your throat.

And then she kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was slow, careful—like she was memorizing the way your lips felt against hers, like she was afraid you might disappear if she moved too fast.

Her fingers ghosted over your jaw before settling at the nape of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, deepening the kiss in a way that made your chest tighten. You tasted cookie dough and vodka on her lips, something warm and dizzying curling in your stomach.

When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your lips.

“Yeah, I was definitely wasting my time on the wrong person.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes fluttering open to meet hers. “Oh? And who was the right person?”

Vi smirked, her fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt. “Dunno. You tell me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I could be your idiot.”

You sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but when she tilted her head, nudging her nose against yours, you knew you were gone.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured, before kissing her again.

──────────────────────

masterlist

[azulhood]

The Manson's have a habit of dragging Sam to fancy balls where she has to 'be on her best behaviour'

One of these fancy balls was the Wayne Gala.

And it was there she met a young Jason Todd.

The two were immediately besties, ride or die, thicker then thieves.

The whole party shivered in fear as the two formed a friendship, the shivering was mainly because they were standing in front of the burning remains of the most expensive car Bruce owned that they took for a joy ride.

When Sam went home they kept in contact via texts, Emails, phone calls, video calls, letters when one of them was grounded, and the occasion crime spree whenever Sam was in gothem.

They each learnt something from each other even if they didn't want to.

Sam now knew, how to pickpocket, hot wire a car, win a fist fight, and a bunch of facts that were going to carry her through all her English classes.

Jason now knew, how to built a toaster from scratch (Sam learnt that one from Danny), how to know what plants are safe to eat when he's stranded on literally any part of the planet, how to summon a ghost (all amity kids know how), and now knows thousands of recipes that are vegan.

Everything was going alright for them

Then Danny died.

And before Sam could process the fact that she saw one of her best friends die only to come back halfway, the ghosts came.

Then Box Ghost, then Vlad, then Dani, then Frightknight, then Pariah Dark.

Sam didn't get a lot of time to contact her gothem bestie but she managed to find time to talk in the lulls between fights.

Jason was getting busier too, he never told her what he was busy with but she didn't either.

Phonecalls and videos calls gave way to texts that would go unanswered for 48 hours.

But there was always an answer.

And that was the new normal.

Then Jason died.

And Sam's heart broke into a million pieces.

There was a part of her that held to the belief that he'd come back like Danny did, but Sam was realistic and Jason was not Danny.

On the day of the funeral she found out that Joker had gotten free again.

Joker.

The man who killed her friend.

Sam could not avenge Danny, but she could avenge Jason.

And so Sam made a plan to kill the Joker that would span years.

Danny and Tucker decided to help.

Because sitting in on numerous text conversations and calls they became friends, while they were not best friends with Jason like Sam was, he was still their friend.

[the-witty-pen-name]

New Years, New Beginnings

Steve Harrington x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: You don’t believe he’s sincere any time Steve Harrington has asked you out. It’s not until a messy New Year's Eve confession that you realize you may have been wrong. 

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive content; cursing; body image issues/insecurity; mentions of bullying; miscommunication; slight angst; horniness but no smut; slightly sub!steve if you squint

Word Count: 3.0k

You pride yourself on graduating Hawkins High as inconspicuous as possible. You detest attention in most forms and your priority was moving through those three years avoiding most of your peers. Describing yourself as shy was an understatement. Your preteen and teenage years were riddled with the most intense insecurity. 

You were never bullied for your appearance- at least not directly. However, you absorbed every look and every offhand comment like a sponge. You were very aware of the space you took up in a room and how different you felt compared to your friends. As a kid, you remember when you caught on to the way your Halloween costumes were always homemade while your friends had no issue fitting into store bought costumes. You feel like you stand out in group pictures so you slouch, and suck in your tummy and stick out your chin- overtime it just became second nature to contort yourself to fit into boxes. 

Despite your best efforts, you did unfortunately catch the attention of one person in particular. King of Hawkins High- the infamous Steve Harrington with his infuriating hair.

You were blessed with the misfortune of having to sit behind him in study hall. He would turn around and pester you constantly. He seemed to enjoy making you uncomfortable and even though you would ignore him, it seemed to just incite him to tease you more.

He’d sit in his chair backwards and cross his arms to rest them over the top. He’d rest his chin on his arms and stare at you, or watch your hands as you worked on your homework. He’d annoy you with stupid questions, or take your pens.  

“What kind of movies do you like?” he’d ask, out of the blue after an annoying amount of staring you’d effectively ignore. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, without looking up. You’d offer a shrug and then just move on to the next math problem. 

“They’re playing the Star Wars movies at the drive-in,” he volunteers and you love Star Wars. However, you can’t bring yourself to say anything. He’s baiting you. And you refuse to bite. 

He eventually got the hint and let you be. He slowly turned around and focused his attention on the clock at the front of the classroom. 

It was the worst type of teasing, the faking interest- the attempts to make you think he’d be legitimately interested. You knew the outcome already; you’d seen that teen movie and you refuse to be the victim in that cruel game. 

He’d wait at your locker and you’d turn the other way when you saw him in the distance. He’d lean against your locker, looking around expectantly for Tommy and Carol, you’d assume, to see if they were watching. You’d wait until the bell rang and risk being late to class before walking up to him at your locker. 

When you would get there before him, he’d come out of nowhere. He’d sneak up on you and lean on the locker next to yours. He’d smile with that signature look of his and you refused to let yourself acknowledge how great it was. Your heart would tug, wishing it was real if you let yourself dwell on it. 

“You don’t like me,” he’d smirk, like he was trying to break some code to you. “We should really go out and talk about it.”

You’d be in the cafeteria lunchline, moving through the stations with your tray. Steve would cut-in next to you. Everyone loved him so no one cared when he’d cut the lunch line. He’d slide in close to you, and you’d ignore the way his cologne always smelled so good. 

“So the lasagna, huh?” he’d smile, looking at the contents on your tray. “Do you like Italian?”

“It’s fine,” you grumble, moving down the line. 

“You ever been to Enzo’s?” he asks and you realize he doesn’t even have his own tray. He’s just here to mess with you. “They have really good lasagna. We should go.” 

You get to the register to pay and Steve beats you to it, offering a few bills to the lunch lady. “It’s on me, sweetheart,” he flirted, and you just walked away. 

Unbeknownst to you, Steve Harrington was pathetically in love with you. Past the suave and charming exterior and his overcompensation of unfound confidence, Steve had been pining after you since the summer you moved to Hawkins, right before 10th grade. He thought you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He thought your shyness was endearing and he liked that he seemed to make you nervous- because maybe that meant you felt the same way about him. After a year of rejection, Steve finally decided to leave you alone because you made it clear you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. 

Steve didn’t realize how he was coming across to you. He’d never had to think about things like you had. At school and amongst his peers, he didn’t need to have his guard up all the time like you felt you needed. His experiences with social interactions didn’t prepare him for the way you reacted to his advances. He was used to adoration and popularity, he didn’t face rejection. Both of you, with completely opposite experiences, couldn’t figure out or make sense of the other. You shrouded in your defences and Steve was stung for the first time. 

Like a cliche, you’re back in your parents’ town for Christmas and New Years. It’s been a few years since you’d been back for longer than a weekend stay. Now, you’ve managed to get enough time off approved that you arrived before Christmas and will leave shortly after New Years. So far, you've done an excellent job avoiding anyone from school. You had friends you wanted to see, of course. But you skillfully avoided any chance encounter by dodging the errands your mom attempted to pass off to you. 

Your luck had run out when she pulled you aside and told you to go out and get a few movies for you and your parents to watch together. Which is how you ended up at Family Video on a random Thursday and ending up face to face with Steve Harrington. 

When you walked in, you immediately saw him at the counter and the two of you made eye contact for maybe a couple of seconds before you averted your eyes and headed down one of the aisles. It’s fine, you rationalize as you pretend to look at the cases, high school is far enough behind us that he won’t remember me at all. 

It was only a few minutes before your grand entrance back into his world that Steve was complaining to Robin about his nonexistent dating life. Robin does her best to help him out of the slump he seems to have found himself in lately, but he can’t seem to ever feel like his old self. When you walked in, he couldn’t even believe his eyes. But just like before, you immediately dodge him. 

“Oh shit,” Robin smiles, immediately recognizing you. “Hey!” She saunters over and Steve watches from the front counter. He watches the way seeing Robin has brought a huge smile to your face. 

“Oh my god, Robin!” You exclaim happily, pulling her in for a hug. Out of the many people who went to Hawkins High, Robin is probably one of the only people you’d be happy running into. 

The two of you talk and catch up, and Steve stares at the computer screen pretending to keep busy while simultaneously attempting to eavesdrop on your conversation. He straightens his posture when he sees Robin bringing you up to the register. He doesn’t acknowledge you as Robin checks out your movies. 

“Don’t forget, 7- okay?” Robin says with a wave when you leave. The bell rings and then Steve turns to look at Robin expectantly. “What?” she asks, scrunching her nose at him in annoyance. 

“Did you fucking invite her to New Years Eve?” he asks incredulously. She nods. 

“Uh yeah- she’s my friend, I figured you’d be fine with that,” she responds, but raises an eyebrow, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Do you remember when I told you about that girl I liked in the tenth grade-” 

“Holy shit!” Robin exclaims, spinning around on the stool she sat on. “That’s insane,” she continues, “She was like the only cool person in my lab- we talked all the time.”

“She hated me, probably still does,” he shrugged, and Robin rolled her eyes. 

“You were a douchebag,” Robin reasons. 

“Not to her!” Steve insisted. “I asked her out like a thousand times- I really liked her. I wasn’t a douche… I don’t think.” 

“You had a reputation Steve,” Robin points out, “Even if you didn’t necessarily do anything to her specifically, Tommy or Carol might have. Or, she just knew you were a grade-A asshole and was steering clear. You’re much better now.”

“Gee, thanks for that enlightening assessment,” he grumbles, sarcastically. 

“At least if she shows up to the party, you can ask her,” Robin suggests, stealing a box of movie candy from one of the shelves, “Just clear the air so you can move on, you know? Get some closure, cause clearly you’re not over it.”

Had you realized that you were attending a New Years Eve party at Steve’s house, of course you wouldn’t have gone. No one greeted you at the door, it was just left unlocked for everyone to come and go as they pleased. 

People filled the hallway, chatting amongst themselves or dancing to the loud music that was coming from the living room. You couldn’t hear yourself think, and you just wanted a minute to compose yourself before venturing too far into the crowd. 

You navigated down the front hall, having to squeeze and push past people, and found yourself in the kitchen, and just your luck, the only person there was Steve. You hoped to immediately leave before he noticed you. 

“Wait,” he pleaded, when you turned to walk out, “please, can we talk?” 

You pause, and turn back to him. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” He asks, and he sounds broken. 

“You have a lot of fucking nerve Harrington,” you say. “You were so mean to me all the time and you have the audacity to play the victim?” 

“How was I mean?” He asks and you scoff because he sounds so genuinely confused. 

“You know, don’t play fucking stupid.” 

“I’m not! Look I understand if I made you uncomfortable,” he explains, “I probably should’ve taken the hint that you weren’t interested and I just kept perusing it- but I thought it was a thing. I was wrong.” 

“What do you mean take a hint?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion. Steve looks at you, completely dumbfounded that you seem to have no idea what he’s talking about. 

“You clearly didn’t like me back,” he explains, like it’s obvious. “I wouldn’t take the hint, and I kept asking you out and it made you upset. I just thought- I thought you and I had like a little back and forth thing. I realized way too late that I was wrong.” 

“Do you seriously think I’m that stupid?” You ask, your tone is incredibly harsh. “You don’t get to flip the story around to save face. You’re a terrible person Steve. It’s not fair to mess with someone’s feelings like that.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “please just explain to me what I did wrong so we can work through it.” 

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t just messing with me to make fun of me,” you snap, your voice beginning to tremble. 

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks softly, walking towards you and for once you let him. 

“I knew the whole time Steve,” you mumble, looking at the ground. “I know you weren’t actually flirting with me or asking me out all those times. I know it was a joke.” 

“None of it was a joke,” he admits. “I liked you a lot. So I would try to ask you out and you’d never talk to me. I thought maybe you were shy and nervous because you liked me back so I just kept the bit going- I’m sorry. I clearly was a dick who made you uncomfortable.” 

“Wait,” you say, thinking back on as many of the interactions as you can remember. “You were actually asking me out?” 

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Steve counters. 

You’re actually rendered speechless. You’re overwhelmed with this new information and you can’t actually bring yourself to fully believe him. There’s no way, you reason, there’s absolutely no way that Steve would’ve been interested in you. 

“I mean come on,” Steve continues when you say nothing, “look at you.” 

“You’re doing it again,” you respond, defeatedly. 

“I’ve wanted you since we were like 15,” Steve confesses. “Fuck, I literally remember the first time I fucking saw you. Do you even remember that?” 

He moves away and goes to lean against the kitchen counters behind him. He crosses his arms and looks down on the floor, kicking at nothing. You don’t know how to react to this confession. It felt like for once, you were seeing the real Steve. The one he’d been trying to show you forever but didn’t know how. And your guard had  been  up the whole time anyways. 

“This is so stupid,” he scoffs at himself, as he remembers the day and puts himself back in the shoes of his love sick teenage self. “Summer right before tenth grade. July 8th.” 

“You had just moved here and it was at the pool,” Steve continues. “You had on this black bathing suit… literally couldn’t keep it together. I couldn’t focus on literally anything else.” 

You remember the day, but you don’t remember Steve being there at all. You remember feeling awkward in your suit, worried people were judging you. You almost didn’t swim, too self conscious- so you ended up sunbathing for a long while before the heat became too unbearable and you needed to jump in. You didn’t even know Steve had been there. 

“I was too nervous to say anything,” he admits, “so I didn’t go up to you that day and I regretted it. I thought about you the whole rest of the summer. I thought maybe you were like visiting family or something and I’d never see you again… but when you showed up in my class, I had to just go for it. I’m sorry I didn’t just let it go.” 

“But you dated Nancy… and went out with girls like Brenda and Laurie. Why would someone like you- fucking King Steve- want anything to do with a girl who looks like me?” you ask, almost sarcastically. Your walls of defense creep up again, lulling you back to safety. 

Steve is finally sick of this nonsense. He’s done with dancing around the subject. He’s still in love with you, and it’s growing unbearable being in the same space as you if he can’t be near you. It’s taking over all of his senses, everything about it just consumes him whole. He can’t understand why you can’t just see how wrecked you’ve made him. 

He strides over to you and cups your face in his hands. You tilt your head up to him in surprise at his gesture. Yet, you don’t pull away. He sighs, it’s a relief to even touch you as simply as this. The soft skin of your cheeks against the pads of his fingertips is enough to ground him just enough that he doesn’t spiral. He takes in a sharp breath once he realizes how close you are like this. The reaction he has to you makes you dizzy and goosebumps rise on your skin.

You don’t know who leaned in first- don’t know who started it. It was like your mind was completely white static and then you realized you and Steve were kissing. It wasn’t anything like the way you’ve ever been kissed before. It made all your senses fuzzy and your body melt into him. He couldn’t help but smile against your pretty lips when you pulled yourself closer to him. It’s all he’s wanted. 

Your hands grasp tightly to the front of his tshirt, and you feel his arms wrap around your waist. His hands land on the small of your back and it feels like the skin under his touch is on fire even if it is over the material of your top. You gasp against his lips when his hands slide down to rest in the back pockets of your jeans and he pulls you even closer than before. He leans against the counter and he pulls you flush against him. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck. Your hands play with the ends of his hair at his neck and he moans so prettily. 

“Fuck, fuck sweetheart,” he gasps, reluctantly pulling away. You pout, and all he can think looking at you with your big eyes and swollen lips that he’s so royally fucked. “I wanna talk about this.” 

You nod, catching your breath, and you don’t miss how his eyes flicker to watch the rise and fall of your chest. You bite your lip to hold back a smile that’s risking to spill out. “Shit,” he sighs, finding your eyes, “I think I’m still in love with you.” 

His hands are still planted firmly in your back pockets. You match his stance, trailing your hands across his slender waist and then settle them into the back pockets of his jeans. You watch as his cheeks turn bright red and the blush blossoms across the length of his neck. He’s so sweet like this, you can’t help but think to yourself. 

“Oh yeah?” You tease flirtatiously. He’s convinced you could probably see his heart beating rapidly out of his chest. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobs and you can’t help but smirk. Newfound confidence swells up through you, finally seeing the way you affect him.