❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
🪼
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Stranger Things
i don't do bad sauce passes
we're not kids anymore.
roma★
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Not today Justin
Jules of Nature
will byers stan first human second
Three Goblin Art
titsay
Peter Solarz
hello vonnie
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from T1
seen from Germany
seen from Libya
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from China
@grlsagun
▬▬▬▬▬ A girl is a gun loaded, dressed in lace, blood and spite.
This girl is a gun and we've been havin' some fun
twenty-one ; aquarius ; german ; she/her ; halsey ; taylor swift ; sofia isella
I come loaded with the safety switched off
masterlist ; requests ; pinterest ; mdni!
This girl is a gun, before you know it, it's done
Please keep in mind that English is not my first language, so if you find grammatic and spelling mistakes please let me know!
I can see Sanzu being the type person for Mikey and reader. Like their own personal therapist but he gives no actual advice they just rant and solve the problem themselves but Sanzu knows everything and I mean everything, maybe a little to much and he can’t say anything about it. 🫠 And the others don’t ask what Mikey talks to Sanzu about because of the emotionless look in his eyes when he comes out of the office. 😭
"Therapist Sanzu (but Like, Not Really)" — Sanzu + Mikey x fem!reader
The Bonten headquarters had one unspoken rule:
Never. Ask. What Mikey and Sanzu talk about behind closed doors.
Especially when Mikey walked out of Sanzu’s office with that dead stare like he’d just faced a spiritual death and rebirth.
The first time it happened, Ran opened his mouth to ask—
“Don’t,” Rindou whispered, gripping his arm. “Just… don’t.”
Title: Terror in pink
Chapter: one
Fandom: Tokyo revengers
Pairing: all x reader
Genre: fluff
Warnings: male reader, Elle woods reader but morally bankrupt, polyfic, reader is lowkey ace coded
Notes:
Summary: bontens lawyer is terrifying as he is pink
🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛
When people thought of Bontens lawyer a few things came to mind.
Intimidating.
Mean.
Cut throat.
Not
Glittery
Pink
And undeniably peppy.
Would you like fem!reader or gn!reader more?
fem!reader
gn!reader
I am thinking about writing something, based on this.
The Project from Hell.
Manjiro Sano x Reader
-> When you get stuck with the infamous no-show Manjiro Sano as your partner for a major class project, you hunt him down fully prepared to drag a delinquent legend back to school by the collar if you have to.
Word Count: 5,554
------
It starts with a list.
A stupid, crumpled, printed list your teacher taped to the chalkboard while the class groaned like they had just been sentenced. You lean forward in your seat, dragging your finger down the columns of names until you find your own.
And then you blink.
And then you blink again.
“…Who the hell is Manjiro Sano?”
The classroom goes dead silent.
Three heads snap toward you like you just said a slur. Someone drops a pencil. Someone else actually gasps. It's dramatic enough that you lean back in your chair, wondering if you’ve somehow missed a world-ending announcement.
A girl near you leans in, whispering like she’s imparting ancient knowledge.
“You… don’t know who that is?”
“No?” you answer slowly. “Should I?”
Her eyes widen with the kind of fear usually reserved for natural disasters.
“That’s Mikey,” she hisses.
You stare blankly.
“That doesn’t help,” you say.
Her jaw unhinges. “THE Mikey.”
Based on my old prompt
A neglected reader raised by the old ladies of Gotham.
.
.
.
The appearance of Bruce Wayne’s daughter was quite a scandal. She was born from a flimsy woman, an unknown who was quick to sign her parental rights away and get out of the picture with a big check.
His daughter made her debut and lost public interest in a month. Her name was not heard again until her twelfth birthday. She was not the youngest, just a middle and forgettable child, a touch too shy to ask for help when a vapid man pestered her while her siblings and father were busy making connections.
Mirna could still remember dear Martha comforting her after a hard beating, keeping quiet in her shame while using her nursing degree to patch Mirna up. Martha was famous for her tea dates, where women would come “pressured” by their husbands to make a good impression on the Waynes.
All a lie. Martha would spot a woman in trouble and send an invitation.
Times have changed; fewer women are ready to endure a bad egg. But when it was almost a miracle to have a decent husband—one who would only shame you with whores—it was sweet Martha who stood up to help in silence, even when most of them envied her.
Thomas was a jewel, too much in love with Martha to hurt her in any way. The perfect marriage, a dream that ended too soon in a dirty alley. They had endured their tears at the funeral, afraid to show their love for Martha, knowing that their husbands had only allowed their interaction with the understanding that it was more a chore than a joyous time.
Their grief was quiet, but the women that Martha had saved grew up to stand by themselves, to honor her friend in a tight group who would help other wives in need.
The bad eggs were fewer with each generation, but they still stayed vigilant behind snarky and bitter masks. If they could raise the ire of a man in less than five minutes, they would mark him on the blacklist. If he was single, he would find no wife in all of Gotham.
They were old, nosy, and worse... committed.
So, seeing Martha’s granddaughter by herself, and quite obviously forgotten by her father and siblings, made Mirna’s heart ache. Mirna, of course, disposed of the man as soon as she got near, but didn’t stay to chat with the young girl. Still, she told her niece to keep an eye on her. She wanted to believe that this was the mistake of just one night; dear Brucie was sometimes forgetful, but she had seen how much he loved his kids, defending them with fierceness.
More galas came, and each time they saw her alone. What made them move was her smile, that cursed smile full of brightness that concealed the weight of a broken family behind it.
They had worked so hard in honor of Martha, then seeing her granddaughter, who mirrored her in all her beauty, made them seethe in rage.
They may be trapped in their marriages, but Martha’s granddaughter will not be.
The first thing was showing her how to find the secluded room that guarded their little club at each gala. Gaining her trust was not easy work, but experience came to hand more times than not.
“I don’t need pity,” she would reply with anger.
“Don’t be silly, girl,” Olivia would snap. “Needing help doesn’t make you less.”
Olivia was a widow, a lucky widow whose spouse had left a big fortune and no hidden debts. She was the prime benefactor of the tea club, mocked for it. Those outside their circle would only consider it an expensive way to gossip, where old crones would throw venom at each other.
There was gossip and venom; they needed to have their own fun. But they were not heartless, bitter old bitches.
Nosy, maybe.
“I’m not my grandmother either.”
“Oh honey, we can see it,” Olivia laughed. “Dear Martha didn’t need anyone to defend her.”
“Olivia!” reprimanded Esther at her rude words.
“But she was a grown woman; you are just a girl,” continued Olivia. “So, if you are smart enough, you would see this as an opportunity.”
The anger stayed in her eyes, but curiosity was born.
“What for?”
“To seek a life of your choice, be free of your golden cage,” Mirna said. “Let us train you, so one day you become a shining star above everyone else.”
A single tear fell upon her cheek.
“They are never going to love me, are they?”
“I don’t have the answer, but don’t chase love, dear.” Mirna cleaned her face. “The only one who you must seek to love is yourself. Those that come after must give you affection freely, not with conditions.”
Things changed for the better. While Bruce and his children remained quite ignorant of her affairs, Alfred spotted the sudden bond between her and the old ladies of Gotham and chose to say nothing. He had seen her loneliness, so the change on her lips, where a sincere smile adorned, was a nice sight.
After school, she would go to Olivia’s mansion, take lessons, and hear old anecdotes. They would encourage her to take piano lessons, wear clothes even if she separated from her family’s usual trend, and not care about her calorie intake.
Even if not all the days were good, they stayed. Through her tears and laughs, a bond forged deep in their hearts: no longer only Martha’s granddaughter, but theirs. A precious girl who grew up to be a breathtaking lady, one who could command a room with kindness, but be just as stubborn as her grandmother when seeing someone in need of help.
Being a socialite was way different with social media, but their knowledge was put to good use. Their darling would show them her Instagram account; the millions on it made them proud as peacocks. The photos were carefully selected, but what melted them was the way she was proud to show her “Fierce grandmas,” as she titled the shot with all of them in the middle of a Sunday brunch.
The care they had given her: every day, she paid it forward.
So, while their dear girl didn’t need a man... they lived to see her fall in love.
A good man; they made sure of it.
So, with their go-ahead, Charles proposed. When the call came in the middle of the night, the congratulations came as quickly as tears appeared.
And how late Bruce saw his daughter. Too late to rectify his neglect, but in time to see her form her own family.
“Father,” she called, arriving in the morning. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast. I know you’ve got a busy schedule, but I think a year is enough notice.” She spoke kindly, but not affectionately. “My wedding is next spring; could you take three days to be in Monaco?”
The answer doesn’t come, so she continues to talk.
“Maybe two days? You can skip the rehearsal, but if you don’t come to the wedding, everyone is going to talk more about it than about my big day,” she explains.
Bruce exhales.
“W-wedding?” he asks. “With who?”
Shock is so overwhelming that his mind doesn’t register at first how his daughter negotiates the days just to make him come—the way she only wants him there to evade gossip, not from a need to have her father there.
“Charles. I presented you to him two years ago, at the charity gala for Women’s Empowerment.” She sends him a resigned look. “Last week, we took our engagement photos in the mansion. I left you a note in your office.”
He didn’t remember Charles or the note.
“Maybe he could come to dinner today?”
He needed to text the kids to know if they knew of this.
“Really?” She arches an eyebrow, annoyed. “I have invited you and the rest plenty of times to come to dinner with us; you always ghost us.” She tells him, “I thank you for the invitation, but we are taking a plane tonight, so we can’t come.”
She goes after that, without getting an apology or an explanation. Just leaving a white-and-golden invitation that smells faintly like cinnamon.
He finds the note she mentions. The thing is that the office is more a facade; he is more comfortable in the Batcave. His kids know to leave a note there if they require his attention... just not her.
His only child out of familiar vigilantism. And he finds that this runs deeper than a moment of forgetfulness; at best, he has been absent. Stacked in one of the desk drawers, he finds more notes.
There were plenty of them from her childhood; they became shorter, colder, and fewer after she turned thirteen. He read glimpses of her life that he ignored... neglected.
It was hard to find that he had not been her father at all.
Alfred finds him in the middle of his unveiling.
“I think I lost hope that one day you would read them when the young miss was ten.”
“You never mentioned the notes to me,” Bruce’s voice is barely a whisper.
“I did, at the beginning,” he says. “But Gotham was turbulent, and your focus—Master Wayne—kept slipping back to the city.”
“And I give her nothing from me.” Dread has made a home in his chest. “I think the birthdays that I attended were barely because I stepped in by mistake,” he confesses. “I handle the rest of the kids’ gifts, but I can’t remember picking hers.”
“Mrs. Wilson had done it every year, just like the Christmas gift,” Alfred told him. “You should give a bonus to your secretary; she has fine taste.”
A bitter laugh left his lips.
“Did she even know I’m Batman?” he asks.
“If she does, she has never mentioned it.”
Even if she knew, after all these years it was barely an excuse to have lost most of her life.
“She is going to marry some guy called Charles.”
“I know. She called when he proposed; she was delighted.” Alfred sighs. “Master Bruce, this is not fixable, but the least you can do is make her wedding the best day. Spare her the sorrow of the media pointing out your absences; they have done it before, and she has denied it with a smile, even if it was painful to lie.”
He nods.
Night comes, and before the kids leave, he asks his children if they know that their sister is getting married.
“Cassandra?” Dick asks, confused. “With who?”
“Can’t be married if we disappear the groom,” says Jason.
That their assumption goes straight to Cassandra just shows Bruce how she is barely part of their lives.
“No, idiots,” Tim calls out. “The princess is marrying; it’s all over her social media.”
“You knew?” Bruce questions, hopeful that one of his children had formed a bond with their sister.
“Hard to miss when it’s all over the news,” he says, still putting his weapon in place. “It’s good she’s leaving; she’s quite delicate for the city.”
“I don’t know how that weakling has kept herself alive all this time,” mentions Damian without cruelty, just stating a fact.
It hurts Bruce more than words can express, the way they dismiss her like gossip. But how can he demand their care when even he ignored her whole life?
He realized that she had lived her whole life being a stranger in her own home.
No father and no siblings... and now, upon her marriage, for the first time all his thoughts focus on her.
Too late to reach her, to show her he loves her, even when he has not cared for her. So, he does more than the least she expected from him.
When next spring comes, he takes the whole week to concentrate on the wedding. Seeing her surprise and relief is enough. He can’t condense years of apology into a single week, but he tries his best to make this week special.
He is there every morning during her bride meetings, even if he stands out like a sore thumb between her friends and the three older ladies who check every corner of the venue like it is a war field.
“Charles is taking his car to race; you can go if you want, Father.”
“I’m okay here, sweetheart.”
She smiles at him, even if not fully convinced.
He had investigated, but observing the life she had made by herself was quite different from seeing it from a screen.
She has inherited the title of “Princess of Gotham” that the media once threw at him, but while he wore it scandalously, she uses it with grace. Her life is gentle, but she has worked hard for it, with the help of the older ladies that he once marked as exhausting.
They are not the harpy he made up in his mind, not if they care so deeply for his daughter. Now he sees it was a facade, just like his Brucie persona.
Walking her to the altar is agonizing. But he supports it with a smile. She smiles shyly at her soon-to-be husband, and he looks at her, full of devotion... In a single second, he can almost see his parents in them.
The rare love he thought he would never see again. He finds himself crying in silence for the girl he failed, for the woman who has found happiness, and for the daughter he never saw.
Alfred silently extends a handkerchief.
He has no right to feel like he is losing her when he never took her hand. Apologies don’t come out of his mouth, but when the dance arrives, he embraces his daughter tenderly.
“I wish your happiness lasts all your life, my dear daughter.” His voice chokes a little with emotion.
There were not enough apologies to reverse what he had done. His daughter observed him for a long time in silence; tears glinted in her eyes, but some storm in her heart calmed at his words. She didn’t forgive him, but she laid her head on his chest.
For the first time, she stops being defensive in his presence. He treasures the moment and the photo.
Three years later, in winter, he travels for the birth of his first grandchild.
He shared happiness that he didn’t deserve, barely holding back a sob when his daughter presented his grandchild in a Batman blanket.
They share a knowing look while Charles coos at the newborn.
“You were not a father at all,” his daughter confesses years later, “but you are a wonderful grandpa.”
Extra scene.
They were quite conscious that she would move with her husband to Monaco, and while keeping in touch was easy nowadays... they had always been nosy! So it must not have been a surprise when the three old goats decided to retire to Monaco too.
Someone had to keep the fort safe when Charles went to race for Ferrari in the season. And, of course, their darling traveled with him as much as she could, so they were always preparing her a suitcase with outfits for the next country.
So, it came as a shock when suddenly a book called “Gotham’s Tea Club” was published.
Martha’s altruism was well known, but the depth of it revealed a tale of how kindness could surpass death and travel through time. Decades after her death, her good heart had even touched her granddaughter.
A lot of women, even if some in anonymity, shared their testimony. Kindness had not stayed only with the wealthy; it had reached even the lowest neighborhoods of Gotham.
Esther reads with tears how her old housekeeper remembers her acting quite bratty about how she needed to stay in the mansion during Christmas, even if she “must” bring her children with her. That winter they were homeless after her husband died and left her with three little children; she described how her old boss acted cold-hearted but was all warm and fuzzy at her core. The kids and she stayed for a whole year, always under the excuse of how Esther could “endure” them just to keep the house working. They got a new place with cash her youngest child found inside her teddy bear.
No word was shared, and there was no surprise when Carmen told her boss she had found a place. She worked for Esther till the kids graduated college, never telling her how she had replicated the tea club in her own neighborhood.
Carmen was not the only maid who learned to run a tight group of women helping each other. The tea club kept strong for years to come, no longer a silent secret, but a movement.
“I asked chatgpt-” yeah well I asked special agent aaron hotchner and he said the unsub is a straight white male in his 30s
In which crazy gf!reader argues with Boyfriend!Sukuna on a bridge in broad daylight
“It was a fucking milkshake!” he roars.
“It was cheating!” you shriek. People look and point. You ignore them. “You paid for a girl’s milkshake! That means you want her milkshake! I see your infidelity. Real eyes realise real lies, asshole!”
Sukuna groans, face in hands. This day was going from bad to worse — waking up late because you turned his alarms off, getting a ticket when you leaned over to beep the horn at a police car, almost getting into a fist fight after you shoved him into a random man, and now?
Now, he’s stuck on a bridge because his vengeful girlfriend’s pissed he treated a classmate to a milkshake. Apparently, milkshakes are equivalent to head in your books. Suffice to say, he’s ready for the day to end.
And it’s not even 12pm yet.
“Jesus, you drive me fucking insane,” Sukuna grits out. His foot taps relentlessly against the cement, muscles in his face ticking, jaw flexing. “You’ve got a real skill for ruining my goddamn life, I swear to god, woman.”
“Oh? Well, if your life sucks so much, then make a new one without me!” you screech, arms flailing wildly. “In fact, lemme help you out by just, I don’t know, jumping off this goddamn bridge!”
“Yeah, please fucking do! I’ll join you!”
People passing by whisper: “Oh my god, they’re causing a scene,” “should we step in?”, and “are they actually going to jump?” Or some variations of those. Concerned, an old lady steps forward and offers, “My dear, if you need help, we’re here for you.”
You whirl around, throwing the death glare you had at them instead of your boyfriend. That isn’t enough for them to take the hint, it would seem. Taking a deep breath, you give Sukuna only a second to brace himself before you proceed to start…barking. Like a chihuaha. Yipping is probably more accurate. You bark and bark and bark until even more people stop to look. They flinch back, aghast. The old lady splutters, “What on Earth is wrong with you?”
“Fuck you, you old bat,” Sukuna snaps, angry for a new reason. “Never heard a woman bark before? Grow the fuck up and get the hell away from us — our foreplay’s none of your goddamn business.”
Blanching, they stumble back. Then, they march away from the train wreck of a couple making a scene on the bridge flustered and embarrassed. You watch them leave. “Ugh, people these days,” you scoff. “No manners.”
Sukuna grunts in agreement. “Weirdos.” He glances down at you. “Where were we?”
You hum in thought, then beam. “I was gonna jump off the bridge.”
“Oh, yeah.” Shaking tension back into his body, he moulds his face back into an angry scowl. “You can’t keep threatening to jump every time you don’t get your way!”
“Says who?” you yell.
Across the bridge, two policemen sigh and shake their heads at the people silently questioning if they’re going to do something. All they say is, “They’re here every week.”
Based off a couple I saw actually arguing on a bridge a couple days ago. Hope they’re doing well
Forbidden Fruits Series
🍒✨️🍒✨️🍒✨️
❀ hands off, gabriella ! pt.2 ⤷ suguru, yuuta, inumaki, toji, choso x fem!reader
syn. when another girl gets too close.
all roughly 800 words! pt.1
𖦹 g. suguru
suguru being library crush
it’s two in the afternoon.
suguru sits in the back corner of the library across the street from the shop you work at, tucked into a comfortable shadow where the sun doesn’t quite reach. your shift ends at three. he plans to surprise you—walk you out, steal you away for a late lunch, that ramen place downtown you both like. his stoic expression betrays the excitement in his chest. he hasn't seen you in the past few days, conflicting schedules and all.
white noise hums through his airpods, just enough to blur the outside world until it's time to see you. a philosophy book lies open in his hands, spine creased. he’s absorbed, comfortably distant from everything else.
until something thumps onto the table in front of him.
he pauses. slides one airpod out.
ʚᰔɞ hands off, gabriella ! ⤷ megumi, yuuji, nanami, gojo, sukuna x fem!reader
syn. when another girl gets too close.
tw. alcohol + drug use in yuuji's
all roughly 600 words! pt.2
ɞ f. megumi
high school grad trip with megumi and friends
it's finally summer break.
you’re on an end-of-year road trip with your boyfriend and a handful of close friends. high school's over and you’ve crammed yourselves into a rented minivan for a four-hour drive to the staycation you’ve been dying for all year.
SUKUNA is a nerd trapped in a hot football player’s body. You ask stupid questions, and he answers them factually. Sometimes, it’s an educated guess that turns out to be right.
18+ CW college au / suggestive / established relationship
Sometimes you look at your boyfriend and genuinely wonder how he ended up on a football team when he could probably squeeze his way into NASA. If your girl math is correct, he could also find the cure to cancer with that stupidly sexy brain of his.
There was a time when the two of you were just lounging on the couch, talking about general science.
“I was so pissed when they removed Pluto from the roster!” you say dramatically before tossing popcorn into your mouth. “That was my favorite planet.”
“Fuckin' roster?” Sukuna laughs, his hand squeezing your thigh absentmindedly. “It’s cool, baby. I think they’re reconsidering bringing it back.”
pretty little liar: ino takuma x reader
synopsis: you’re a college gossip columnist with a shitty boyfriend. your life takes a turn when you meet a hot guitarist that makes you pause writing about other people’s lives and start living yours. (feeding the ino girls, god knows we’re starving)
warnings: toxic boyfriend, alcohol, justified(?) cheating, some angst, some smut, fem reader, messy reader, cursing, check chapter warnings
chapter one: #ihatemybf
chapter two: desire
chapter three: drunk walk home
✮ chapter four: groupie love (smut)
chapter five: stolen sweethearts
( gif credits to the lovely @parktheeshark for this crisp gifset ! )
☤ ─ KINDER SEAS ; Park the Shark
summ. 3 more times the infamous Park the Shark watches over you, & the 1 time you repaid the favour. w.count. 7.2k (whew!) tags. More oceanic motifs , mutual pining , Shark being an asshole & a protective gentleman all at once , some law-related inaccuracies probably , not beta-read oops a/n. Dynamic previously established here in this fic. Finally a part 2 to the Pearls Before Swine fic! Apologies for the long wait, I hope you enjoy!
1.
A CLARION CALL summons God’s cavalry in the dead of the night. Overhead, the PA system booms the dreaded Code Triage across the halls of Departments: An MCI triggered after a structural collapse of a construction site, which had also caused a multi-vehicle pile-up, bringing about a domino effect of lethal casualties.
It tears everyone asunder. 12-hour shift going 14 (and counting) entirely on your feet now with the additional storm surge of emergency traumas; either standing during surgeries or sailing between multiple theatres to assist with crush cases, complex fractures, traumatic amputations. Pulling all the stops possible, going hammer and tongs—
To no avail.
Case after trauma case watching people die on the table only to have to swiftly move on to the next; Or for them to be ferried to the ICU with the knowledge only a miracle or a prayer might save them. You can’t help but feel the swamping weight of guilt on your shoulders; Can’t help but feel like you’re drowning from the literal and metaphorical blood on your hands.
It’s a struggle. Sink or swim—
You just hadn’t expected Park the Shark, of all people, to be the sea-beast that would keep your head above water instead of dragging you under it.
Check this out!!! Their writing is soo good!
BILLIONAIRE PLAYBOY!GOJO SATORU X HEIRESS NEGLECTED WB!READER
Bio: Young heiress to Wayne Enterprises who ends up getting swept off her feet by the billionaire playboy of Jujutsu Tech. Will the Wayne name be taken over by the Gojo clan?
“Billionaire playboy Satoru Gojo at it again with another girlfriend,” the headline reads as you scroll through your phone.
He’s such a pig, you think. How could that man be the owner of Jujutsu Tech the world’s greatest tech company next to Stark Enterprises and Wayne Enterprises? It’s unbelievable. The one running it is a self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard who can’t keep his dick in his pants. The world can be so unfair. They kiss the ground he walks on, and he can come up with the most bland, basic idea and still make billions off it. It’s infuriating.
While you’re stuck in business meeting after business meeting, trying to make sure your wealth isn’t swallowed up by some rich fat bastard, he’s out there taking shots off a supermodel’s body in Cancún. You’re practically foaming at the mouth just thinking about it.
It’s just not fair how people like him can dilly-dally and do whatever they want, while you have to do all the real work. It took ages for Bruce to finally recognize you and see you as the heir to Wayne Enterprises. It took even longer for him to consider that you should be the heiress. The rest of your brothers didn’t want the position, so it only made sense for you to take it. And finally, you have it. Years of proving yourself and making up for mistakes that other people made put you where you are.
And then there’s him. He just gets it handed to him on a silver platter. It’s just not fair, you think to yourself completely unfair. But life isn’t fair, you remind yourself. Not fair at all. So deal with the cards you’re dealt.
But what if life deals you cards you never thought you even had in your deck? Most people would go insane, while others would forfeit the game. But you stay put, because, God, you have no idea what to do when a boy likes you.
How do you even begin to explain this? Satoru Gojo the heir to the Gojo Clan, Jujutsu Tech CEO, Prince of Tokyo and Shibuya respectively has taken a liking to you. To you, of all people.
At first, you thought he was only there for the money. Wayne Enterprises is a very powerful company, and it would make Jujutsu Tech just as powerful if they were to combine. But he hasn’t once talked about business moguls. Every time he tries to court you or woo you into his arms, he only talks about dates and flying you out to some of the prettiest places in Okinawa. Who knew a billionaire playboy could be such a caring man?
Wait no. You can’t just fumble because of a smile and a couple of well-placed hands. Sure, he put his hand on your hip once while taking a photo with you at an expensive Jujutsu Tech premiere (that he invited you to), and it did make your blood run hot but that’s beside the point.
You’re not something to be won over and crossed off a list. You’re not some playboy’s little plaything. You are an heiress a goddess with an empire all your own, not some princess to be courted and ruled. Even if it felt good.
Because he's a man after all a cheating, lying, narcissistic, evil man. But beautiful blue eyes and white hair like a sheep's, and a dazzling smile, and did I mention he has dimples? And oh my god, get it together.
But you can't fall for him. You can't fall for any of those sweet words. He's probably just trying to trick you into a scandal where you end up losing all you ever worked for, and Bruce might see you as incompetent and never give you that recognition you truly deserve. You can't falter. But sure, your heart does skip a beat when he stares deep into your eyes.
But now you're not the only one who's going through it. Gojo's actually going insane because you haven't taken any of his advances seriously, and he's been annoying all of his workers.
"I don't know what I'm doing wrong, Nanami. I buy her flowers, I buy her jewelry, I take her out to dinners which she doesn't go to anyways and she still doesn't think I'm serious about her."
The tired Nanami rolls his eyes. He's Gojo's secretary while also being one of his close friends, and both jobs are hard enough. One pays well while the other pays zero.
"Maybe if you stop following supermodels on your Instagram and tried to clean up that little playboy persona of yours, then maybe she'll give you a chance," he says simply, like the answer was so obvious. And it was obvious, but it would take someone like Gojo not to even realize that.
"You think a self-respecting woman like her would fumble to the knees of a womanizer? Have more respect. Miss Wayne is a smart young woman. In her eyes, she thinks you're after her fortune, or even worse. At least try to prove to her that you're worth it," he hums simply, walking out of Gojo's office.
Oh, how he wants to wrangle that blonde man, but damn it, he's not wrong either. So he tries his hardest. He cleans up his playboy persona. Still, you won't look at him. It's driving him crazy.
Have you never met a man interested in you before? Well, the answer is obviously no. You've been infected from a young age, and the idea of love horrifies you like a kid being afraid of clowns at a fair. And like Gojo comes rushing in, full of love and affection and care, well, you want to burn him down with a blowtorch.
"Miss Wayne, may I please have this dance?" he'll ask sweetly, holding a hand out to you so you can step closer to the gala's ballroom light. But instead of blushing and taking his hand, you swiftly walk away from him, dodging him instantly.
This is not what he's expecting. You're completely out of the ordinary. He sends flowers to your office; you would turn them back in the next day. What will it take to win your heart? He doesn't even know at this point, cracking down ever so slightly.
But when he makes you laugh for the first time, it's like he's seeing roses and pretty pink flowers surround your face. He's slowly cracking down on his Ice Queen, seeing that warm side of her. Please, just give him one chance. He'll treat you right, he promises. It's not even a promise at this point—it's a vow. He doesn't even want to combine both of your companies. He just wants you. Is that so hard to ask?
Oh, and also be ready for abrupt marriage proposals out of nowhere. He tends to do that when he feels you guys getting closer, ever so slightly.
"Will you marry me?"
"Gojo, we are in a press conference."
"So yes?"
You're so sick of him in the best way possible.
This is soooo good!!!!
rocking horse
pairing(s): (platonic) batmom!reader x arkham knight!jason todd
summary: armor can't hide the fact that jason todd needs his mama
warning(s): mentions of violence, trauma, grief, death, injury, family tension and unedited work
a/n: this is an old ass jason fic i wrote but i rerad it and thought it was cute so here you go !
"i'm uninterested in whatever game you and batman are playing." you deadpanned, looking at the arkham knight.
you expected the knight: the voice, the armor, the faceless cruelty of it all. but when he stepped into the low light of your living room, you didn’t see the monster everyone else feared.
you saw the way his shoulders slumped, like the weight of the city wasn’t just on his back but in his bones. no grand intimidation, no menace. he shifted in place, boots scuffing against the floor like a child would. —like jason would when he was being scolded for doing something: when he’d broken a window, when he’d stayed out too late, when he thought you’d stop loving him for it.— you shook the thought from your head, tilting your head at him. "why didn't you leave town?" the question caught you off guard, causing your mind to stall for a quick moment.
