#I wanted to write a snippet but I had no inspiration besides this and it's a bad day overall so

[cambridge-nps]

I wrote a silly little thing about Tommy hiding the fact he wears glasses from Buck. Unfortunately, since i'm incapable of writing sexy times this is gonna have to stay g :(

Here's a small snippet:

“Be honest with me,” Buck said, arms crossed, “do you think Tommy is seeing someone else?”

Ravi choked. “What?”

“I’m serious. He keeps sneaking off with his phone.”

Ravi wiped his mouth and gave Buck a look. “Buck. Buddy. That man has stolen two helicopters for you.”

Buck waved it off. “Light domestic terrorism aside, I’m just saying something’s up. You think maybe he’s bored? I’ve been working tons of doubles lately so I haven’t had time for my normal gym routine. I think my butt’s gotten flat.”

“Tommy talks about your butt like it’s a religious experience.”

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If you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know.

You can read the whole thing below or on A03 -> Clearly Into You

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Buck wasn't usually a jealous guy. Okay. That was a lie. It had all started early one morning, Buck was balancing a banana nut muffin in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other when he noticed Tommy ducking back into the bedroom with his phone. Again. It was the third time that morning. This was after the incident yesterday—Tommy had disappeared into the garage just to “check a message,” and when Buck rounded the corner with a fresh cup of coffee to surprise him, Tommy had nearly jumped out of his skin. Buck's gut had churned then. Now it was practically staging a rebellion. He didn’t want to be that guy, the paranoid boyfriend, the clingy one, but when your long-term, ruggedly hot firefighter boyfriend starts acting like he's guarding the Missing Link every time his phone buzzes, you begin to worry. And Tommy? Tommy was the definition of sketchy lately. Buck had mentioned it casually to Tommy that night in bed. “You’ve been kind of... phone-private lately, huh?” Tommy had just snorted and rolled over, kissing Buck’s shoulder like that was an answer.

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The next day, Buck strolled into the living room with a dish towel slung over his shoulder and a faint whistle on his lips, just in time to catch Tommy snapping his phone screen off like he’d been caught looking up something deeply illicit. The speed of it was unnatural. Almost Olympic-level. Buck stopped mid-step, eyebrow lifting. “...Was that the nuclear launch codes, or…?” Tommy, sprawled on the couch with an exaggerated air of innocence, blinked up at him. “What?” “You just closed your phone like I walked in on you sexting a senator.” Tommy made a face, scoffing. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was—watching a video.” “Uh-huh,” Buck said, folding his arms. “Why’d you practically throw it across the room like it bit you?” Tommy shifted, “Reflexes. I’ve got cat-like reflexes.” “Oh, is that what we’re calling ‘panic’ now?” Tommy sniffed, nose tilted. “You startled me.” Buck peered at Tommy suspiciously. “What are you hiding?” “Nothing.” “Is it porn? “What? No!” Tommy didn’t even look up. “It was an educational video on new fire safety procedures.” Buck snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Tommy grinned. “Hey, I know “movie night” is a shared activity and I take our joint research sessions very seriously.” “Oh, joint research, huh?” Buck said, crossing his arms. “Because I distinctly remember you fast-forwarding through the plot last night.” “There was a plot?” Buck rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “You know for a guy who claims he likes character development, you sure skipped a lot of dialogue.” “I’m just efficient,” Tommy said, smug. “Besides, I already know how it ends.” “Oh yeah?” Buck asked, stepping closer with a teasing smirk. “And how’s that?” “With both of us hitting pause because it got us a little too inspired.” “You know,” Buck murmured, eyes soft but sharp, “you’re very good at distracting me.” Tommy blinked, doing his best innocent face. “Am I?” “Mhm. Suspiciously good.” Buck kissed the corner of Tommy’s mouth, then pulled back just enough to look at him. “Almost like you’re trying to steer me away from asking what was going on with your phone earlier.” Tommy froze—just a flicker, just for a second—but Buck caught it. “It’s nothing, Evan. I promise.” And with that Tommy got up and walked into the kitchen.

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A few days later, another incident occurred when Buck showed up unannounced to Harbour Station to surprise Tommy with a sandwich from their favourite deli shop, which was the romantic equivalent of a bouquet of roses in firefighter terms. He spotted Tommy sitting alone in his truck in the back lot, hunched over his phone like it owed him money. Buck tapped on the window. Tommy jumped so hard he dropped the phone into the footwell. “Hey,” Buck said, peeking in. “What’re you doing out here?” Tommy looked mildly panicked. “Nothing! Just... decompressing.” Buck leaned into the window. “You know, when most people decompress, they don’t clutch their phone like it’s a cursed artifact.” Tommy fake-laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. “You're cute when you're nosy,” while casually sliding his phone back into his pocket. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

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After another non-answer from Tommy regarding his secretive phone use, Buck finally cornered Ravi in the kitchen of the 118, where Ravi was busy shoveling pasta into his mouth between calls. “Be honest with me,” Buck said, arms crossed, “do you think Tommy is seeing someone else?” Ravi choked. “What?” “I’m serious. He keeps sneaking off with his phone.” Ravi wiped his mouth and gave Buck a look. “Buck. Buddy. That man has stolen two helicopters for you.” Buck waved it off. “Light domestic terrorism aside, I’m just saying something’s up. You think maybe he’s bored? I’ve been working tons of doubles lately so I haven’t had time for my normal gym routine. I think my butt’s gotten flat.” “Tommy talks about your butt like it’s a religious experience.” Buck blushed. “Well. Still.” Since Buck’s falling out with Eddie—that argument in the kitchen that had left more than just words simmering—his friendship with Ravi had unexpectedly deepened. What started as casual conversation and shared beers had turned into real camaraderie, with Ravi naturally folding into Buck’s life outside the station. That meant spending time with Tommy too, and to Buck’s quiet delight, Ravi and Tommy hit it off effortlessly. The two shared an easy banter, trading dry humour and obscure movie references like they'd been friends for years. Ravi rolled his eyes. “Tommy’s not cheating. He’s obsessed with you. He just—sometimes he gets weird when something’s wrong with him. He doesn’t like looking vulnerable.” Buck narrowed his eyes. “So you do��think something’s wrong.” Ravi shrugged. “Probably, but not something scandalous. He’s just not good at asking for help, you know that. Remember he tried to splint his own ankle last month with a clipboard and duct tape.” “…Yeah, okay. That tracks.” Ravi pointed a tomato sauce covered spoon at Buck’s chest. “If Tommy is hiding something, it’s probably because he’s the one embarrassed. You ever think of that?” Buck frowned. “I don’t like it when you’re right. It’s bad for our power dynamic.”

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The truth broke open like a scene from a soap opera. Buck walked into the kitchen one evening after a shortened shift to find Tommy squinting at his phone, held at arm’s length. Then—he reached into the drawer. Pulled out a sleek pair of reading glasses: Slim, black-rimmed, very distinguished. And slipped them on. Buck gasped like a Victorian man seeing a naked ankle. Tommy spun around, glasses in hand, caught red-handed. “Don’t say anything,” he muttered. “Please. I know. It’s awful.” Buck stared. “That’s what all this has been? The secret phone stuff? The whispering? The disappearing acts?” Tommy looked sheepish. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” “Like what? Sexy librarian-core? Because it’s working.” Tommy groaned and sank into a chair. “No, I didn’t want you to see this version of me. I’m officially ancient. Glasses for the phone. Next it’ll be pill organizers and orthopedic sandals. You’re going to realize I’m some tragic, washed-up old man and run off with someone who can read a menu without squinting.” Buck blinked. “…You think I’m going to stop loving you because you need reading glasses?” Tommy looked truly miserable. “You’re still in your thirties. I’m—well, not. And look at me. The greys, a back that makes that clicking noise when I get out of bed. And I didn’t want you to—” Buck took a step forward. “Didn’t want me to what?” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “Realize how much older I am than you.” Buck stared at him, heart lurching. Then he stepped in, gently took the glasses, and placed them back on Tommy’s face. “You look like a sexy professor who teaches Advanced Fire Tactics at the Academy. Honestly, I’d enroll twice.” Tommy snorted. “And for the record?” Buck continued. “Yeah, your body’s incredible. You’re all tall and muscly, with those ridiculous forearms and muscles on top of muscles in your biceps that’s not even fair. And the flecks of grey in your hair? I’ve been trying to act normal about it, but it makes me want to climb you like a rope ladder.” Tommy laughed, the tension cracking at last. “But even if you didn’t look like that,” Buck added, quieter now, “I’d still love you. Because of how you show up. Because of how you make me feel like I matter, even when I’m being annoying or insecure or irrational.” He cupped Tommy’s face. “You’re smart. Snarky. Kind. You give a crap about people, even when it costs you something. That’s what I fell for. And that’s not going away.” Tommy looked at him for a beat, the barest shine in his eyes. “So... you’re okay with the glasses?” “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Buck whispered. “Want me to keep wearing them?” Buck said, grinning. “You might wanna bring them to bed. Just saying.” Tommy kissed him — slow, smiling against his lips. “You’re a menace.” “But I’m your menace,” Buck said.

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Tommy had been hesitant at first—wearing the glasses only when he was home alone, taking them off the second someone knocked at the door, and absolutely refusing to wear them during social gatherings. But Buck noticed. Of course he did. And over time, with quiet compliments and casual sincere praise, Buck chipped away at whatever insecurity was holding Tommy back. Now, Tommy wore them without flinching. Still a little self-conscious, maybe, still adjusting to the feel of them on his face—but the difference was noticeable. He didn’t hide anymore. Buck noticed that, too. Tommy adjusted his new glasses on the bridge of his nose, squinting at the mirror like the frames might suddenly shapeshift into something more flattering. “You keep looking at yourself like you’re trying to figure out who you are,” Buck said from the doorway, arms crossed, leaning just enough to make it obvious he’d been watching for a while. “I look like a dad trying to figure out how to work his own thermostat,” Tommy muttered. “You look like a sexy professor who could ruin my life in under ten seconds,” Buck said, dead serious. Tommy turned, raising an eyebrow over the rim of the glasses. “Ruin your life, huh?” “Oh yeah,” Buck said, pushing off the doorway and walking closer. “Like, ‘talk sternly to me in a quiet voice while handing me back my overdue essay face down’ kind of ruin.” Tommy smirked. “You have a whole fantasy worked out already?” Buck shrugged. “Not my fault you put those on and suddenly I want to sin in a public classroom.” Tommy laughed, cheeks a little pink. “You’re ridiculous.” “You’re hot,” Buck shot back, stopping just in front of him. “I mean—you were already hot. But now? Now I want to make bad choices with you in a very well-lit, academic environment.” Tommy leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “So what you’re saying is… I should wear these more often.” Buck grinned, voice low and warm. “I’m saying if you don’t, I might start leaving textbooks around the house just to tempt you.” Tommy reached up, slowly removing the glasses and setting them aside. “Well. That sounds like dangerous encouragement.” Buck stepped closer, practically nose to nose now. “Good. I like a little danger.”

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[yujeong]

Porsche jokes about hitting Vegas one time during a meeting. He doesn't realize he fucked up right away, not until Vegas gathers himself, smiles and says "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?", all while his skin is buzzing underneath the calm demeanor he's presenting. The reason Porsche even understands he said the wrong thing is because Vegas glances at Kinn as he says those words, who's sitting on the opposite side of the table, silent. Pete is also there, and he's the person Porsche checks first before he clears his throat and apologizes to Vegas. Pete is too busy staring at Vegas' tense back to notice Porsche's attention.

[myrleius]

here, beside you (snippets!) — bakugo k.

bodyguard bakugo k. x rich fem!reader

original fic: here, beside you

notes: I think you can read this even without seeing the original fic. These were just some dialogue ideas I had when I was experimenting which timeline to write and can honestly just be stand alone scenes of these two idiots. This includes the two weeks where Bakugo was guarding yn and after the one year time-skip thingy.

Yn huffed, struggling with the stubborn window. “Ugh, this thing won’t budge.”

Bakugo watched her battle with it for a whole ten seconds before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Move.”

She stepped aside with exaggerated flair. “Oh no, whatever shall I do without the great Bakugo—”

He yanked the window open effortlessly, then shot her a flat look. “You done?”

She stared. “... I loosened it.”

His deadpan expression didn’t waver. “Yeah. Sure you did."

Bakugo stood in the doorway, arms crossed, already regretting giving her the time of day. “What the hell are you on about now?”

Yn turned to him, grinning. “What do you think is stronger? Your explosions or a nuclear bomb?”

He blinked, then shot her a glare. “Are you an idiot? A nuke wipes out entire cities, dumbass.”

She tapped her chin in thought. “Yeah, but yours are way cooler. More... refined, y’know?”

His scowl deepened, though he glanced away. “Hah? You tryna butter me up or somethin’?”

Yn’s smirk grew. “Is it working?”

Bakugo scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Hell no.”

Lying on the floor, yn stared at the ceiling. “I’m bored.” 

Bakugo sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “So?” 

“Entertain me.” 

He shot her an incredulous look. “What the hell do I look like? A damn TV?” 

“No, but you’re here and I’m suffering.” 

Bakugo sighed dramatically, leaning back. “Tch. Not my problem.”

Yn huffed, rolling onto her side to face him. “You’re no fun.”

Bakugo didn’t even glance up. “Not my job to be fun.”

She pouted. “Then what is your job?”

He finally looked at her, deadpan. “Blowing shit up.”

Yn snorted. “Wow. So inspiring.”

Bakugo smirked. “Damn right.”

She sighed dramatically, flopping onto her back. “Still bored.”

Rolling his eyes, he tossed a pillow at her face. “Deal with it.”

“You—” Fwump.

Arms crossed, yn smirked. “Bet you can’t sneak past all those guards without getting caught.”

Bakugo eyed him suspiciously. “You challengin’ me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You talk a lot, but I haven’t seen you do much.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to get me in trouble.”

Her smirk widened. “Yeah? You scared?”

“You are the worst influence,” he muttered.

Grinning, she tilted her head. “And yet, you’re still thinking about it.”

Yn groaned, forehead pressed against her open textbook. “Why am I even studying this? I already know all of it.”

Bakugo, sitting across from her, barely looked up from his own notes. “Then why the hell are you whining?”

She lifted her head to glare at him. “Because it’s tedious. Do you know how insulting it is to be forced to memorize things I’ve already mastered?”

He smirked. “Cry about it.”

She sighed dramatically. “Maybe I’d suffer less if someone brought me snacks.”

Bakugo tossed a protein bar at her face.

“Wow. So romantic.”

“Shut up and eat.”

Bakugo watched as yn struggled to balance her textbooks, her bag, and a tray of food all at once.

“Tch. Bet you drop something in the next ten seconds.”

Yn shot him a glare, expertly shifting her grip. “You underestimate me, Bakugo-san.”

The moment she took a step forward, a pencil case slipped from the stack.

Bakugo smirked. “Called it.”

Yn sighed, bending down to pick it up. “Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want. But if I make it to the table without dropping anything else, you buy me lunch tomorrow.”

His smirk faltered. “The hell? That wasn’t part of the deal—”

“Oh? Are you scared?” she teased.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Fine. But you’re paying if you lose.”

Challenge accepted.

Yn absentmindedly grabbed Bakugo’s wrist, stopping him mid-rant. “Hold still.”

He blinked as she traced her fingers lightly over a cut on his arm. A warm glow spread from her fingertips as the wound sealed up.

“Seriously, you’re worse than Deku-san when it comes to reckless training injuries,” she muttered.

Bakugo huffed, looking away. “Tch. It’s not that bad.”

She let go, patting his arm. “There. Try not to break yourself again for at least a week, yeah?”

He grumbled something under his breath, rubbing his wrist where she’d touched him. “No promises.”

Yn grinned as she took a bite of her ice cream, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So… what’s your weakness?”

Bakugo scoffed. “The hell kind of question is that?”

“I mean, everyone’s got one.” She tapped her chin. “Mine’s probably caffeine withdrawal. Or cute guys who scowl a lot.”

He shot her a glare. “That better not be about me.”

She smiled innocently. “Who said it was?”

“Tch.” He looked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Dumb questions. I don’t have a weakness.”

Yn hummed. “Oh really?”

Before he could react, she reached up and flicked the edge of his ear.

Bakugo flinched.

Her grin widened. “Oh. Oh.”

“Don’t,” he warned.

But it was too late. She had discovered gold.

Yn dozed off in class, arms folded on her desk. Aizawa, completely unfazed, walked past her and didn’t wake her up.

Bakugo frowned. “Oi, why aren’t you waking her?”

Aizawa sighed. “Because she already submitted the advanced version of today’s lesson last week—with corrections.”

Bakugo turned to look at her, unimpressed.

Yn, eyes still closed, smirked. “Jealous?”

“Tch.” He kicked the leg of her desk lightly. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Okay, so… you can solve quantum physics equations in your sleep, but you don’t know how to cook rice?”

Yn stared blankly at the rice cooker. “I never needed to learn. I had chefs.”

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You could build a rocket ship, but you’d starve in your own kitchen.”

She crossed her arms. “Not true. I can survive off of coffee.”

He groaned. “You are actually hopeless.”

She smirked. “But you think it’s cute.”

“No.”

Yn leaned over Bakugo’s desk, eyes bright. “Did you know that nitroglycerin, the main component of your sweat, was originally discovered by an Italian chemist in the 1800s? They used it for mining before it became weaponized.”

Bakugo stared at her, torn between annoyance and… something else. “And?”

“And it’s fascinating.” She grinned. “Your body literally produces one of the most volatile compounds known to man. You’re like a walking science experiment!”

His eye twitched. “I better not hear you call me that again.”

Yn tapped her chin. “Walking disaster?”

“Worse.”

“Explosive nerd?”

He glared. “I will end you.”

She only laughed.

Bakugo scowled as yn scribbled in her notebook, completely ignoring him.

“What’s so damn interesting?”

She barely glanced up. “Research.”

“On what?”

“Explosion quirks.”

His eye twitched. “Are you studying me?”

She grinned. “I’m documenting your patterns for scientific purposes.”

“… That sounds fake.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I just like looking at you.”

Bakugo choked on air. “The hell is wrong with you?”

She laughed. “You’re cute when you panic.”

His entire face turned red. “I—TCH—SHUT UP.”

Yn was shivering, arms wrapped around herself as they walked back to the dorms.

Bakugo sighed, pulling off his jacket and shoving it at her. “Wear it.”

She blinked. “What if I say no?”

“I’ll force it on you.”

She smirked, slipping it on. “You’re awfully sweet when you’re bossy.”

“Tch.”

She lifted the sleeve to her nose, inhaling dramatically. “Wow, it even smells like—”

“Say one more word and I’m taking it back.”

She giggled. “Fine, fine. Thanks, Bakugo-san.”

He grumbled. “Whatever.”

Yn stood under the doorway, arms crossed. “So. Mistletoe.”

Bakugo glanced up, then narrowed his eyes. “Tch. You planned this.”

She shrugged innocently. “Who, me?”

He scoffed. “Not happening.”

She pouted. “Aww, not even a little holiday spirit?”

“No.”

She sighed dramatically. “Guess I’ll just go kiss Kaminari then—”

Bakugo grabbed her wrist, scowling. “Like hell you will.”

She grinned. “Thought so.”

He grumbled. “You’re the worst.”

He leaned in, about to kiss her forehead before headbutting her instead.

“There’s your holiday spirit.”

Yn casually dropped a heart-shaped box onto Bakugo’s desk. “Happy Valentine’s.”

He eyed it warily. “The hell is this?”

“Handmade chocolates. Don’t worry, they’re scientifically perfect.”

He opened the box, seeing neatly arranged chocolates—each labeled with things like EXPLOSION BOOST and ANGER MANAGEMENT (PROBABLY).

His eye twitched. “You seriously made quirk-enhancing chocolates?”

She grinned. “You love them.”

He popped one in his mouth, grumbling. “…They’re not bad.”

She smirked. “You mean delicious?”

“Tch. Shut up.”

Bakugo opened his door and immediately shut it again.

Yn knocked again. “You’re not avoiding this.”

He groaned. “Tell me you didn’t rent out an entire arcade for my birthday.”

“… Okay, I won’t tell you.”

“Yn.”

She giggled. “C’mon, it’s your day! We have the whole place to ourselves!”

He sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

Bakugo had zero reason to be mad.

So what if Kaminari was sitting too close to yn? So what if she laughed at something dumb he said?

Didn’t matter. It didn’t.

And yet, the next thing Kaminari knew, a perfectly aimed explosion went off inches from his feet.

“W-What the hell, dude?!” Kaminari yelped.

Bakugo shrugged, walking past. “Tch. Thought I saw a bug.”

Yn sighed as she wrapped Bakugo’s hand in fresh bandages. “You need to stop breaking yourself every other day.”

He grumbled. “Not my fault villains are weak.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That literally makes no sense.”

“Tch. Whatever.”

She finished tying the bandage, then, with a grin, brought his hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles.

Bakugo froze.

He yanked his hand back, ears burning. “The hell was that?!”

She cleared her throat. “Well, I read somewhere that positive reinforcement speeds up healing—”

“THAT’S BULLSHIT.”

“… So do you not want me to do it again?”

“… I didn’t say that.”

Bakugo didn’t do birthday parties.

Hell, he barely remembered his own birthday half the time.

But this wasn’t just anyone’s birthday. It was yn’s. And after weeks of her not-so-subtly reminding everyone—

“Ugh, can you believe my birthday’s coming up soon? Crazy, right?”

“Man, I wonder what kind of surprises are in store for me on my birthday~”

“I mean, it’s not like I expect anything big… but I would cry if nothing happened.”

—he got the damn hint.

So, fine. He was doing something about it.

The problem was, the rest of their classmates were absolute idiots.

“You planned a party?” Kirishima blinked, stunned. “Like… on purpose?”

“Shut up, Shitty Hair. You in or not?”

“Oh, I’m so in.”

Thus, the operation began.

Step 1: Keep yn Distracted

Easier said than done. She was annoyingly observant.

So, Kaminari was given the task of keeping her occupied while the others set up in the dorm lounge. It mostly involved loud, overcomplicated debates.

“Yn, if you could only pick one—unlimited knowledge or Bakugo’s eternal love, what would you choose?”

“Obviously Bakugo’s eternal—wait, why are you asking?”

“No reason!” Kaminari grinned, sweating.

Step 2: Decorations

Mina took over this part, much to Bakugo’s reluctant approval. She added fairy lights, streamers, and a banner that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIMP” in sparkly letters.

Bakugo nearly ripped it down.

Mina fought him off. “She’ll love it!”

“… Tch.” He let it stay.

Step 3: The Cake Situation

Sato obviously. But Sero and Kirishima also attempted cupcakes, which ended in small-scale disaster.

The kitchen smelled slightly burnt. They covered it with air freshener.

Close enough.

Step 4: The Surprise

Finally, when everything was set, Bakugo begrudgingly went to retrieve yn.

He found her on the dorm rooftop, arms crossed.

“… You forgot, didn’t you?” she deadpanned.

Bakugo scoffed. “Tch. Like I’d ever forget something that important.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Wait. Are you—”

“Shut up and follow me.”

And when they reached the common room…

“SURPRISE!”

Confetti popped. Music blasted. And yn, for once, was speechless.

She turned to Bakugo, still processing. “… You did this?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, it just magically appeared, dumbass.”

Her grin was blinding. “You do love me.”

His ears burned. “I—Shut up.”

She laughed, throwing her arms around him. And despite all the teasing, all the effort—

It was worth it.

[gr4cier4cie]

girl that lewis snippet

i think like my brain broke cause

what

HEHHEHEEHEHE HIII MY LOVE 💫 THIS INSPIRED ME TO WRITE ANOTHER ONE HERE IT IS JUST FOR YOU I LOVE YOU SOOO MUCH MWAH: the rain wasn't supposed to happen.

not today. not here. not now, with you standing in the paddock wearing a rather... translucent shade of white. (it was stupid, really. you should've known better. should've checked the forecast this morning on your way out of lewis' bed. should have done anything besides trust the goddamn sky.)

your mascara was running (because of course). your shirt was soaked through (because why not?). and lewis hamilton was standing next to you as your eyes tracked the downpour, his hands intermittently clenching and relaxing near your lower hip. you could hear the slight shuffle of skin against skin, the whisper traveling accusatorily across the space between you. you swallowed thickly.

lewis watched the descent of your forgone mascara with something dark in his eyes. something hungry. (he always seemed to look at you like that. in briefing rooms. across the garage. in those moments when everyone else had gone home and the only sound in the air was rain against metal. hearts against cages of bone.)

"here." his voice was gravel wrapped in silk, the kind of sound that made your fingers itch to touch him. he shrugged off his jacket—the one worth more than your monthly salary, the one that had his name emblazoned across the back like a claim—and draped it over your shoulders. you shouldn't have let him.

but you did.

the scent of him made your skin prickle. made you wonder what it would taste like on your tongue. (wait a minute. you already knew that.) "i'm fine," you lied, the words tasting like copper on your tongue. it felt mysteriously like defeat.

his laugh was soft. the kind of sound that belonged in dark rooms made out of borrowed time. "you always are." his thumb caught a droplet of rain trailing down the side of your temple, and you found yourself unable to breathe. his skin was fever-hot, a stark reminder of jeddah and suzuka and every other bad decision you'd decided was worth making. his eyes had dropped to your mouth like gravity, and your fraying professionalism cracked like carbon fiber under pressure.

"thanks for the jacket," you whispered, swallowing, watching his eyes track the movement of your throat like he tracked racing telemetry—precise, hungry, calculating. he was so close you could count his eyelashes. one, two, three, four—

"you're welcome," he murmured, and only then did you realize he was brushing stray water droplets from your lashes, the tilt of your brow, the apple of your cheek. an excuse to touch you.

"you should—" his hand grazed the spot below your ear, and your words caught on a choked inhale. "we should—"

"careful," lewis huffed, thumb brushing your bottom lip, coming away stained red. (you'd done it on purpose, the lipstick. the mascara. the goddamn outfit. you were sure he knew.) "don't choke."

"someone might see us," you finally got out, palm closing around his wrist. your voice didn't sound like yours. too breathless. too wanting. too much like the sounds you'd made against his pillows last night, and the night before, and the night before. "this morning, when i—"

"left?"

you scoffed, taken aback by his interruption. "that's not—"

"ran away?"

"lewis." your breath ghosted over his lips, and you watched them part. longing you didn't even realize you had bubbled over, spilling into your bloodstream like heroin. your fingers dropped his hand, curled into his shirt without permission. "i didn't run."

his laugh was dark chocolate and champagne spray as he stepped away, leaving your skin burning. "sure you didn't."

(lewis hamilton had you on a leash. no matter how far you ran, you'd always come crawling right back.)

♡

I'M HAVING SO MUCH FUN WRITING FOR THIS WHAT 😵‍💫 love you always baby i've missed you MWAH from gracie always!!!

[willowpains]

introducing…

latina actress reader!

mexican to be exact, born and raised. sings and dances, but has decided to focus all her efforts into acting and breaking through Hollywood, fighting closed doors due to her nationality, always with a good attitude and ready to work her ass off to achieve her dreams to be the next it girl and big thing around the world.

she’s…

big hearted. soft. sensitive. hardworking. multilingual. singer. dancer. warm. family girl. fangirl. super friendly. the one that makes everyone feel included. a listener and big yapper around the people she trusts. a bit shy at first. loves a good party. cinephile. tequila lover.

loves…

going out with her friends and fellow costars. traveling back home whenever she can. the beach. taking photos of everyone and everything. speaking spanish in front of people that don’t understand. doing karaoke. her dog. reggaeton. doing tiktok dances. reading romance and fantasy. going to the movies at night. posting photo dumps on instagram. doing pranks. her mexican food. makeup. her alone time.

can’t stand…

horror movies. people that don’t love animals. over bearing and noisy paparazzi and press. liars. smoking and cigarettes. loud chewing. small spaces. rats. not wearing perfume. losing her favorite lip gloss. online spoilers. missing out on stuff. people talking on the movie theater.

wikipedia…

-her first big role outside of her country was as a pogue, with a trope of slow burn enemies to lovers with Drew Starkey’s character, and member of the main friend group in the highly acclaimed Netflix series Outer Banks, still ongoing now with a just released season 4.

-she was casted and is part of the wrapped up and upcoming movie: Wake Up Dead Man, sequel to the famous murder mystery movie Knives Out.

-uploads covers and snippets of originals songs on her YouTube channel, as well as see social media accounts such as TikTok and Instagram.

-had a big role besides actor Jacob Elordi in last years hit project Saltburn, making it one of her biggest movies in her repertoire to this day.

-she was seen attending a Niall Horan concert previously in the year, and was brought up on stage by the artist to sing a duet, as she claimed one of her favorite songs, “You could start a cult” during the show.

-she is rumored to take part in the role of Susan Pevensie in upcoming Narnia Series directed by Greta Gerwig, nothing has been confirmed yet but both the actress and the director have been hinting at it in different interviews and events.

loading more…🎥🎞️🎬🍿

***

I am so freaking excited about this concept that I came up with! I had been wanting to continue writing for drew and this idea just landed on my lap didn’t it? *wink wink*

I have so many plans for this universe with mexican/latina actress reader, from moodboards, blurbs, headcanons, specific scenarios, sooooo so much! if you have any questions, things you wanna request or know about reader please feel free to ask or let me know, you’ll be feeding into my motivation to write more about her and drew and the rest of the obx cast<3

credits and inspiration to all the writers out here that come up with these concepts of ___ reader! if ate up most of them and I think they’re creative and amazing af

about time my writer personality came back, and as always, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar or writing errors there may be!

stay tuned👀

[cas-backwards-tie]

I'm new to you page and wa wondering if you had discontinued the pack plan series as its brilliant:))

Ahhh, well, welcome! 💖🥰🫂 We’re so glad to have you here! I want to thank you for reaching out and asking 💕 I always appreciate asks! Even when they’re not related to my fics.

TOPP is definitely still in the works! And because you asked so nicely and cared to inquire, I feel like I owe it to all of you all to post a snippet of the next chapter! 🙌🏻 Because I definitely realize and know how long you guys have been waiting! I’ll post the snippet and then I also can give you an update about the fic/where I’m at, at the bottom.

Snippet of Ch.2:

"Why wouldn't you just tell us?!" Soap grits out, his voice taking on a dark tone as he turns his once sky blue, now stormy, eyes on you. "Do you realize what position you've gone and put us in?"

“Yeah, and what position’s that?” You engage, turning to square off against Johnny, the both of you only a foot apart since you’d been standing next to each other in line.

You’re met with a low warning growl, the motion of his hand balling up into a fist at his side not being missed by your peripheral vision. Despite your defiance not being unusual within the team, your designation now, is known, and an Omega standing up to an Alpha? Not taken kindly upon. Nor is it taken lightly. Regardless, they’re not your Alphas, and that means they have no claim over what you do or say. And while there’s always the risk of an Alpha disciplining an unruly, unclaimed Omega, you’re willing to take it.

"It's your fault, really," Ghost eggs on, making everyone whip their heads in his direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[If you don’t know what this is in reference too, here’s the masterlist for the series in question!]

So the reason why I haven’t posted the chapter yet is for a few reasons 💕 One, from a writing standpoint this one is quite longer, and I want it to be amazing for you guys! When I was writing the first chapter I had a friend to help me with the dialogue (which is why I feel I really struggle) and rn I don’t, so I think I’ve been nervous about that a bit.

But also, because in my real life there’s been a lot of major changes recently. In September I found out that I have CIRS (Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome) which, is basically like mold sickness but, like, permanent. So I’ve been trying to find somewhere safe to move/detox from the mold w meds bc my body can’t on its own, and I’m actually just finally moving into my new apartment on Sunday! 💖🙌🏻 so that’s cool.

Besides that, I also got diagnosed with, like, idk, I guess it’s a disability, technically, and the fact that I’ve been struggling my whole life with it but never knew has been… kind of mind blowing tbh? Like I haven’t told anyone except one person about it—not even my best friends yet—bc it’s been a lot to work through since… I guess I’ve technically had this my whole life but only now know at 25? 😅🤯

So it’s been a lot of working on my health both physically, mentally, and with moving, my family, Christmas coming up, and trying to find a job/support myself even day-to-day, it’s been kind of taxing tbh balancing everything. And that’s not even mentioning the little social life I do have 😅😭🙈 So while I know it’s frustrating waiting, and I’m sorry that it’s taken so long, I do want to be open and tell you guys what’s going on behind the scenes 💕 Granted, I know not everyone necessarily cares, and that’s okay! If you did read all this, though, I appreciate you and hope you have an amazing day!

Your ask, though, Nonnie definitely is inspiring me to sit down and really finish the next two chapters bc I have both laid out- one nearly finished, the other will be shorter (I think?) because of the plot point it’s mostly about 💕 I will say though, too, it does make me a bit anxious not having had a whole plan for this fic unlike the others which I’ve sort of started writing with a whole plot in mind 😂🙈💖 so I just hope you guys will continue to love it ask much as you’ve loved the first chapter! I genuinely have never received as much love on a work than that one chapter, alone! So I am truly grateful 💖

[srslyscary]

The Final Breath

contents/warnings: SFW , reader is written as she/her, major angst, mentions of illness, mentions of death, bang chan is named his birth name in the narrative, lowercase intended

including: bang chan x reader

note: I CRIED WRITING THIS. why I got the inspiration to make something hand written? i have no clue. I thought I should start writing more often. seriously had to stop writing this just to cry for one second. this may or may not be ooc (just a slither) because i have problems writing personalities of people I don’t know in person.. please enjoy!

_

chris wiped the sweat from his brow as the final beats of the song faded. practice had been intense, as always, but his mind was elsewhere. his bandmates, felix, hyunjin, and the others, were still catching their breath when chris glanced at the clock.

"hey, guys, I need to head out early today," he said, grabbing his bag.

felix raised an eyebrow. "again? you’ve been leaving early a lot lately. everything okay?"

chris forced a smile. "yeah, everything's fine. just some personal stuff I need to take care of."

the others exchanged puzzled glances but didn’t press him further. they had their suspicions—but ultimately thought he was going home to his girlfriend, whom they were all very aquantined with. little did they know, his destination was far more somber.

chris’s heart ached as he drove to the hospital. YN, his girlfriend, was battling a brain tumor, and the prognosis was grim. the visits had become a daily ritual, a blend of love, fear, and a desperate hope for a miracle.

he entered her hospital room, greeted by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft beep of monitors. YN's face lit up when she saw him, her smile weak but genuine.

"hey channie!" she whispered, her voice fragile.

"hey, beautiful," he replied, sitting beside her and taking her hand. "how are you feeling today?"

she shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "same as always. but seeing you makes everything better." she laughed, nearly cringing at herself. “I bet it does.”

they spent the next few hours talking, laughing, and simply being together. chris recounted funny stories from practice, doing his best to lift her spirits. they watched videos on his phone, and he played her snippets of new songs he was working on. for those precious moments, the world outside the hospital room faded away. nothing else mattered to them but the time they spent together.

as the days passed, YN's condition slowly worsened. chris continued to visit daily, his dedication unwavering. the hospital staff began to recognize him, greeting him with sad smiles as he made his way to her room.

one evening, chris arrived to find YN's family gathered around her bed, their faces etched with worry. her mother stood up, giving chris a small, grateful nod.

"thank you for coming, christopher. she talks about you all the time," her mother said, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances..”

chris nodded, his throat tight. “It’s fine, really.” he approached YN, who was asleep, her face pale and drawn. he sat beside her, holding her hand and whispering softly. "I’m here, YN. I won’t leave you."

when she woke, she smiled weakly at him. "channie, you’re here."

"of course, I am," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I always will be."

as the night wore on, chris and YN talked about their future—one filled with dreams they both knew might never come true. they spoke of travels, adventures, and the life they had planned together. it was a bittersweet conversation, filled with love and an unspoken understanding of the reality they faced. “hey.. do you think.. I’ll be able to see outside again?”

“of course you will. i have no doubt about that, beautiful.”

the next day, chris convinced YN's doctors to let her leave the hospital for a few hours. he wanted to give her a change of scenery, a taste of the usual through the chaos of her illness. “let’s set you in, first time in a wheelchair huh?”

she laughed only slightly, being carried and put into the wheelchair. “yeah, it feels really funny.” and with that chris began to take her outside the hospital, talking a small stroll to the nearest park. he pushed her wheelchair along the winding paths, the spring air fresh and invigorating. YN marveled at the blooming flowers, the chirping birds, and the children playing nearby. It was a simple outing, but it meant the world to her.

"thank you for this, my love." she said, her eyes shining with gratitude. "I needed it more than you know."

chris smiled, though his heart ached. "anything for you, sweetheart. always."

they sat on a bench, watching the world go by. for a few precious hours, they were just another couple, enjoying a day at the park. but as the sun began to set, reality intruded once more.

YN's condition took a drastic turn for the worse. she was confined to her bed, her strength fading rapidly. chris continued his visits, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. he spent every moment he could with her, knowing their time was running out.

then the day finally came, that day both of them never dreamed of happening. as he sat by her bed, YN's breathing became labored. chris held her hand tightly, his heart pounding with fear and sorrow.

"baby.." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm scared..”

chris leaned closer, his eyes filled with tears. he wanted to keep strong for her, for the one he loved, even through this hard time. "I know, YN. but I'm here. you’re not alone. and you’ll never be alone.”

she looked at him, her gaze filled with love and pain. "promise me... you won’t forget me. live your life, be happy."

chris swallowed hard, his voice choked with emotion. "I promise, YN. i’ll never forget you. you mean everything to me. i’ll love you till the end of time.”

“then promise me one more thing.. please swear you’ll keep this promise.”

“Anything beautiful— what is it?”

“just promise me.. that if you’re not happy, that you’ll find happiness with someone else.” she said, her lips shaking slightly and her eyes barely could keep open.

“no.. no i can’t promise that. i’ll love you and only you. i can’t possibly—“ “chris please.. please don’t do this. just promise me.” YN began to tear up, looking at him.

“…i promise. but.. you’ll make it out of here just fine.. don’t say that.”

she smiled, running her thumb against his hand. “thank you for everything, my love.” and with a final, shaky breath, YN closed her eyes, her grip on his hand loosening. chris felt his world shatter as she slipped away, the silence in the room deafening.

“hey.. hey sweetheart- get up..!” he held her face, kissing her cheeks and tapping her arms slightly. “please.. don’t— don’t close your eyes.. don’t go..!”

but it was too late, she was already gone. chris quickly got up and tapped the call button, screaming for the nurses.

the days following YN’s passing were a blur for chris. he attended the funeral, supported her grieving family, and tried to make sense of a world without her. his bandmates, finally aware of the truth, rallied around him, offering their support and understanding.

chris threw himself into his work, trying to drown the pain with music and dance. But no matter how busy he kept himself, the void YN left behind was inescapable. he found himself visiting her grave regularly, bringing her favorite flowers and sitting in silence, lost in memories.

every night, for two years straight, Chris called YN’s phone. each time, he left a message, his voice filled with longing and sorrow. "hey, YN. It’s me, channie. I miss you so much. it’s hard.. knowing you’re really gone. i wish I could just wake up and come straight to your apartment to see you each morning, like usual. i wish I could take you out on dates at your favorite places, like usual. i want to be angry for you leaving me.. but I know I shouldn’t. i know I should think better about this. it’s just so.. hard. i love you so so much.”

the calling became his way of coping, a connection to the girl he loved and lost. he gained hope for the shortest moment everytime he heard the call go straight to voicemail, the last thing he had left to really remember what you sounded like. “Hi this is YN! Sorry i couldn’t answer the phone. I’ll get to you as soon as i can! Leave a message!”. even as the number eventually became invalid, chris continued to dial, his heart refusing to let go. each call was a reminder of the promises he made and the love they shared.

_

it had been a year since YN’s passing, and chris found himself standing in front of her grave once more. the seasons had changed, the world had moved on, but his grief remained as fresh as the day she left.

his bandmates, who had become his rock, stood beside him, their presence a silent support. felix placed a hand on his shoulder. "we’re here for you, bro. always."

chris nodded, his eyes never leaving the gravestone. he sniffled, trying not to let tears fall. "thanks, guys… It means a lot."

he knelt down, placing a bouquet of YN’s favorite flowers on her grave. "Hey, YN. It’s me, channie. I miss you so much. It’s been a year, but it still feels like yesterday. i feel emotional everytime i come here, knowing I was just fine 3 hours ago. i don’t think you really know how much this affects me. im slowly getting better but.. it still hurts.”

as the sun set, casting long shadows across the cemetery, chris and his bandmates stood in silence, remembering YN and the love she had brought into his life.

through all, chris kept his promise to YN. he lived his life, pursued his dreams, and found moments of happiness. but he never forgot her. she remained a part of him, a cherished memory that guided him through the darkest times.

he found even more solace in his music, channeling his grief and love into his songs. His bandmates stood by him, understanding the depth of his loss and the strength it took to keep moving forward.

on the anniversary of YN’s passing each year, chris visited her grave, bringing her favorite flowers and sitting in silence. He spoke to her, sharing his life and achievements, as if she were still beside him.

and though the pain of losing her never fully faded, Chris found a way to honor her memory in everything he did. she had taught him the true meaning of love and loss, and that lesson became a cornerstone of his life.

in the quiet moments, when the world felt too heavy, chris would close his eyes and remember YN’s smile, her laughter, and the love they shared. and he would find the strength to keep going, knowing she was with him, always.

[arealphrooblem]

Hi!! First off I just want to say that this is my new favorite writing blog on tumblr!! I'm so grateful for whatever strings the universe pulled that led me here. I'm literally addicted to every single thing you've written here. I swear I've read Mutually Assured Destruction like ten times within the past 24 hours.

I was wondering, if you find the free time and the inspiration, if you could write a villain x medic/civilian snippet? Maybe Medic accidentally witnessed villain's crime so villain can't let them just wander around freely since medic works for the hero agency, but also doesn't want to kill medic since medic is useful?

Thank you so much! I've always loved the idea of Villain x Medic so here you go!

CW: Kidnapping

“You know my face.”

The medic knew this day would come. Still, they froze in the doorway of the living room, keys dangling in their hands, blood frosting over in sheer dread. The villain sat with their legs crossed in the medic’s favorite armchair, the fire place unlit. The room in semi-darkness, the only light a glow from a street-lamp.

They didn’t ask how the villain knew their address. They should have taken Hero’s offer to leave under witness protection, but their whole life was built here. They couldn’t just leave and start over.

“I haven’t revealed it,” the medic said.

“Yet,” the villain amended. “I’m sure you would for the right price. Or under the right pressure.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t. But I am not going to risk it.”

The lamp beside the couch switched on. The medic flinched away from the sight, eyes trained on the coat rack by the door. As if mattered anymore if they saw the villain’s face again. As if they hadn’t doomed themselves the first time.

Footsteps creaked over the old wood floors. The medic took slow deep breaths, holding it for four counts and releasing it. A trick they had taught people afraid of IV needles to calm their racing heart.

The time to run had long since passed. And even if it hadn’t, the villain most definitely had people outside lying in wait for such an escape.

Hands that tipped the medic’s chin to meet that dangerous gaze.

“You’re going to kill me,” the medic said. It was not a question.

An eyebrow raised. “You sound very calm about that.”

“My career has taught me how to recognize and accept things that aren’t in my control. Right now there is nothing I can do to stop you.”

“This is true.”

The villain studied them, thumb brushing absently against the curve of their bottom lip.  The darkness of their eyes felt unfathomable, like the Marianas Trench. Like the deepest part of the ocean, full of wonder and terror.

“I am not going to kill you,” the villain said finally. “I owe you my life. And I always repay my debts. But you know my face.”

The medic swallowed thickly against the barrage of options that opened up. The villain could blind them, torture them into insanity, cut out their tongue. All of the above. The villain’s hand slips across their cheek to cup the back of the medic’s head. A possessive gesture, they noted with a shiver.

“You are coming with me. Whether it be conscious or unconscious, I leave up to your . . . control.”

Relief warred with new fear. “Where are you taking me?” they asked.  “What happens to me when we get there?”

“Questions I will happily answer in the car,” said the villain, their hand sliding down the medic’s 

neck before retreating. “Hand me your phone and your keys and then go pack your things. You have ten minutes.”

The medic stood rooted to the spot. This was real, this was happening. And it yet it still felt like a bad dream. Ten minutes to pack their life up? Ten minutes?

“Tick tock, darling,” crooned the villain, holding their hand out.

Numbly, the medic dropped their phone and keys into the villain's hand and took robotic steps towards their bedroom. Clothes were easy to grab and stuff into the suitcase. As were their birth certificate and other identity papers. Personal items, less so. Medic spent precious minutes at their bookshelf, picking a well thumbed classic from their childhood, their most referenced medical texts, and a novel they hadn’t started yet.

The pressure of time throbbed in the back of their head, making it difficult to think rationally about what they needed. They ducked into the bathroom, grabbing their contact case and solution, their toothbrush. Then they stood in the middle of their bedroom, frantically trying to think of what they couldn’t live without.

“Times up.”

The villain’s voice came from behind, causing the medic to jump out of their skin.

“Zip it up and let’s go.”

The villain’s car lay hidden in the shadows of the back alley. A dangerous looking driver waiting for them, their cigarette glow the only light. The villain opened the backseat of the car for Medic with a mocking flourish.

It was their last opportunity to run, but the medic knew a shot in the back waited for them if they tried it. So, dread sitting heavy in their stomach, they climbed in. The villain took the seat next to them, giving out curt orders to the driver in a language the medic didn’t recognize.

 The nagging horror that the medic forgot something important haunted them. They leaned their head against the window, mentally walking through their house, trying to remember. But the fear churning in their blood made it so difficult.

“I’m taking you to my compound,” said the villain, almost conversationally. As if detailing the itinerary for a date. “I have a room set up for you, as well as a med bay. You can resume your work taking care of my mercenaries.”

The medic listened with half an ear, watching the wave of street lamps pass them by. What were they missing?

“No objections to that?” the villain asked, bemused.

They passed a park, one the medic had many birthday parties in as a child, and the sudden zing of memory made them gasp.

“Stop! We have to go back!” they cried.

The driver didn’t so much as flinch.

“Go back?" The villain laughed. "Too late for that, doctor. You should have protested before you climbed into this car."

"I forgot something!"

"Whatever it is can be replaced," the villain said with a dismissive wave of their hand. 

"It's not replaceable. Please."

Desperation clawed at their throat but the villain remained unmoved.

"If it were so important, one would think it would be the first thing you packed, not the first thing you forgot. You will have to learn to live without it."

The medic closed their eyes the rest of the journey. They couldn't bear to look at Villain's face.

"Do you regret it?"

The villain sat upon the examination bed, looking almost innocent.

It had been a week since the medic was taken. Their life had changed so drastically that the normality of the med bay, of the tools they had spent years around, clanged like a discordant note. They threw themselves into their work, demanding physicals for the Villain's mercenaries to establish a baseline of health. These people, so used to sewing their own wounds, grew awkward around the medic’s soft and attentive care. Some refused to come. 

The villain showed up last, a new laceration on their ribs. They sat, spine straight and unflinching as medic carefully cleaned the wound and bandaged it. 

"Regret what?" the medic asked. 

" . . .Saving my life."

Their hands stilled for a moment, hovering over the wound. It was a tricky question and the medic wasn't sure how to answer it honestly. 

"I would have regretted the person that I'd become if I had let you die," they said finally. 

"Oh? Most people would consider it a net positive, preventing all my future damage."

"It's not up to me to decide who deserves to live and who doesn't."

"I beg to differ. You hold people's lives in your hands every day. Who else, if not you?"

The medic glanced up at the villain, who stared at them with open-faced fascination, rather than the usual dispassion. 

"I don't think any one person should have that power," they said pointedly. 

The villain smiled, a slow curving movement. "A pity. You could be terrifying indeed."

The medic swallowed something strange dancing in their gut. "You're lucky I'm not." 

"Indeed I am."

They finished the examination without further conversation. The villain watched with quiet fascination as the medic sterilized their tools, folded unused bandages away, updated the Villain's medical records. 

"What did you leave behind?" they asked softly. 

"My life," the medic said, tersely, as they tapped on the keyboard. 

The villain was undeterred. "What did you remember in the car?"

The medic paused at that, unsure if they should answer. They didn't want the villain's mockery over it. But lies rarely went over well with the villain -- the medic had cleaned up the wounds left behind from that. 

"A box under my bed," they replied, keeping their eyes locked on the computer. "It had my keepsakes in it. Family photos, birthday cards, that sort of thing."

"Sentiment," the villain said skeptically. "That's what got you so worked up?"

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," they snapped, standing up. 

The villain watched them leave and the medic felt their gaze like a laser all the way down the hall. 

Two days later a painfully familiar box sat on the examination table. Scribbled in sharpie on the cardboard was a message: 

I do understand. 

[fkinkindagauche]

WIP Weekend

I don't think I've ever actually participated in one of these. I have a tendency to only work on one project at a time, which makes it kind of boring, only giving people one emoji to choose from. But I'm gonna give it a try this weekend and see how I feel about bouncing around between projects!

Rules: Send me one of the emojis below in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences (or paragraphs if I'm feeling particularly inspired) from that WIP, and then I'll post it. You can request as many as you want!

divider by @/saradika-graphics

Current WIPs to choose from:

🍆Steddie smutpilogue to II Most Wanted

✂️Ronance smutpilogue to II Most Wanted

❓Steddie Big Bang (I won't be able to post the snippet I write for this since we're still under a gag order, but you're welcome to make me write some of it! I'll post a pic of one of my cats for you instead if you choose this.)

⛰️⛰️Twin Peaks Metalsandwich AU

🐙OFMD Izzy seamonster fic for the Fandom Trumps Hate auction, if you're feeling particularly adventurous and want to venture outside of ST

Tagging some people who may or may not want to do this and/or send me an ask: @stellarspecter, @tinytalkingtina, @pearynice, @vthx, @dame-zoom-a-lot, @hbyrde36, @alwaysurvalentine, @talanashta, @cxwzkeys, @jo-harrington, @sourw0lfs, @cloudsurfing42, and anyone else who wants to participate!

Here is a snippet from one of the unposted chapters of II Most Wanted to wet your whistle (CW for discussions of murder, but not very graphic):

Steve tried to get her to talk about it once they'd pulled out of Hopper's driveway and were back on the road, but she wouldn't. She didn't start talking until they were in Steve's bedroom with the door shut.

"You do realize there's no one else in this house?" Steve teased as he watched her lock the door. She glared at him.

"We need to kill Jason," she said. He'd had an inkling this was where the conversation would be going after what she'd said at the hospital the night before.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Looks like we do."

She collapsed onto the bed beside him with a groan, throwing an arm over her face. "How do we kill someone?"

"I dunno. Shoot him? Stab him? Hit him really hard on the head?"

Robin scoffed, turning toward Steve and pulling the arm from her face. "No way. Those are all too messy."

"Well then what? Poison? Carbon monoxide?" Back when his parents had still been home occasionally, his mom watched murder mysteries constantly. He knew all sorts of ways to kill people.

Robin sat up abruptly. "Exactly how we do it isn't as important as how we keep from getting caught."

"Make it look like an accident?" Steve suggested.

Robin hummed. "Maybe. Seems difficult." She tapped a finger against her lips, deep in thought, then stood up and started to pace.

Steve tried to think about the problem as well, but his head hurt, and he was more exhausted than he remembered being since they'd finished Vecna off. He curled up on his bed and closed his eyes.

Robin took the hint. He heard her call her mom, telling her she was spending the night, then she crawled into bed beside Steve. She pulled the covers over both of them, then wrapped an arm around his waist. "We'll talk about it more in the morning," she said, squeezing Steve.

He had a feeling she was just going to lay there thinking all night, but he, at least, needed to sleep to use his brain. He drifted off, comforted by the reassuring weight of his best friend at his back.

[chock-and-bates]

(trying to distract myself from The Horrors)

I am curious to hear more about the phone sex fic if you would like to share some details? is it tied to one you've already told about?

(i get it, this is a nightmare 😭)

i actually don't think i've talked about the phone sex fic, so i'm happy to share more. i've wanted to write phone sex for awhile, and i felt inspired recently. it's also a nice, easy fic to keep up with my writing while the rest of my life is such a mess lol. it's basic but filthy, very fun to write.

Premise: During a race weekend, Charles gets a late night call from Max. His boyfriend is frustrated, not only because he can't sleep, but also because Charles can't be in bed next to him. When Max suggests phone sex, Charles finds that he isn't that opposed to the idea 👀

should be out next weekend!

snippet under the cut (mildly spicy 🌶️)

“I said, I sleep better when you’re next to me,” Max says, a little testily, but Charles thinks he can practically hear his embarrassed blush through the phone.

The warm feeling from a moment ago returns ten-fold, and Charles has to smother his dumb little grin into his pillow, grateful that Max can’t see him. Five months together and he’s still bashful about the butterflies Max gives him.

“I’ll try to stay with you tomorrow night, mon amour,” Charles promises, hoping he doesn’t sound as lovesick as he so truly is.

“That’s lovely, baby, but it won’t help me tonight,” Max grouses, “Fuck, you’re sure you can’t come over? We haven’t been together in-��

“Five days,” Charles says, maybe a bit too quickly, giving himself away.

It’s just- it’s been a very long five days, and though Charles is too proud to admit, he’s missed his boyfriend quite a bit. Their relationship had bloomed in the offseason, and though there were plenty of days spent apart, it’s been pitifully hard ever since the season started to have Max so close but so untouchable.

Charles may have been going a little crazy. But Max didn't need to know that.

“Five shitty days,” Max sounds so agitated, something rustling on his end like he’s tossing and turning in his bed.

“We have been apart for longer,” Charles half-heartedly defends, “Remember in December, for the holidays? We didn’t see each other for two weeks until I surprised you back in Monaco.”

Max is quiet for a moment, “Back when you knocked on my door in the middle of the night?”

“Yes. I am just saying if we survived that-”

“Charles,” Max cuts him off, his voice suddenly raspier, “If you want me to think about being inside you, you could have just said so.”

Charles' breath hitches, startled, “What?”

“The sofa,” Max replies, “That night you surprised me.”

And Charles had even been thinking of that aspect of their reunion, but it comes back to him quickly- how Max had looked so surprised when he’d opened the door before breaking out into the cutest smile. He’d pulled Charles in for a kiss hello that had rapidly deepened, their time apart making them so hungry. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom… instead stumbling over to the sofa, where Max had bent Charles over the arm, pressing him down, his big cock splitting him open-

Even as the memory makes his blood run hot, Charles eyes narrow down at the phone, realization suddenly dawning on him.

“Are you horny,” Charles hisses, accusatory, “Is that why you are trying to get me to come over?”

There’s another vague shuffling sound as Max snickers, “Can you blame me? You looked so good today. Had to hold myself back from smacking your ass when you walked by in the paddock… And so what if I am also missing the other stuff we do in bed besides sleeping.”

Charles groans, “I cannot believe you woke me for sex.”

[alienoresimagines-archive]

I wish you would write a fic (canon era, modern au, any setting really) where Buck is sick and Bucky fusses over him. Maybe with Buck’s head in Bucky’s lap?

I loved your fic of Bucky watching Buck sleep, so anything with that type of vibe? ❤️

I don't know the difference between a snippet and an actual fic so this is 1.4k 😅 But hey, Gale's awake for this one! Thank you so much for this inspiring ask, I've been writing angst for a week so going back to fluff felt really good 🥰❤️ Featuring : A sick Gale and a worrywart Bucky Also on AO3 Find my other Mota fics here

"Do you need anything ? Blanket ? Water ?" His hands hover over Gale's shivering form but the other weakly bats his hand away when John reaches out to check his fever.

"M'fine, Bucky." Gale's usual deep voice is now raspy and hoarse from too much coughing and Bucky winces in sympathy, knowing how much just saying those few words must've hurt. It also happens to be one of the biggest lies he's ever heard, on the top of his list with Buck's other countless "I'm fine"s he's heard since meeting the other. Bucky's only slightly exasperated.

"Like hell you are." He grumbles unhappily but fondness rounds the edge of every word as he fusses with the army issued blankets until only two unimpressed, slightly hazy with fever, blue eyes could be seen above the green fabric. John has to physically suppress a coo at the sight, sure it wouldn't be welcome, and very much not in the mood to wrestle Gale back in bed a second time.

He's honestly surprised the other held on for as long as he did considering the entire 100th had fallen victim to a nasty cold in the past two weeks, even Bucky himself. Buck had nursed him back to health and despite the pounding headache he remembers, John had enjoyed every minute of it. He would've enjoyed it a lot more though, if this stubborn sweetheart of a man hadn't also decided to take as much of a workload as he could while the rest of them were bedridden, disregarding any signs of his own degrading health.

A hand pulls on his sleeve until he sits on the edge of the bunk, the heat from Gale's body warming his side even through two blankets. Those pills better kick in soon or John might just die from worry. Over a damn cold.

Well, that's not exactly true. Even if the depth of his feelings for Gale still scares him absolutely shitless, he's past the shameful stage of denial. A mere small splinter would be enough to have him worried sick if it was in Gale's finger. But, he considers, maybe he went a bit overboard when he tucked Gale in with all the blankets available. Perhaps just four would be enough... which is why he lets Gale, although unhappily, drop some of the blankets on the bunk next to him. His mouth opens then closes with a click at Buck's glare.

Three blankets it was.

Gale settles again under the remaining covers, graciously letting John adjust them until his neck is covered. His lips, despite being chapped and not as pink as usual, still look so inviting that Bucky has to physically stop himself from pressing his own lips to Buck's. Three days he's been deprived of Gale's kisses and he has never wanted anything more in his life - except for Gale himself. During the two days he was sick, Buck had imposed a no-kissing-on-the-lips rule, much to his own chagrin but he respected Gale's boundary and need for cleanliness. Besides, it's not like he wanted to get Gale sick. And today, on the day he'd been longingly awaiting for 48 endless hours, Buck himself was sick and would refuse Bucky's kisses, he knows. It doesn't stop him from gazing mournfully at those plump lips.

"I was really looking forward to those kisses." He whines dramatically in a defeated sigh, a pang of fondness in his chest at Buck's own saddened eyes. He hasn't been alone in his longing, and the thought sends warmth through his body. Yet, coldness courses through him as he watches guilt overcome sadness when Gale turns his head sideways to avoid looking at him.

"M'sorry." All theatrics forgotten, a frown crosses his face immediately. He leans closer to Buck's face, gently sweeping his hair of his forehead and then cupping his flushed cheek to stroke over a high cheekbone until Gale looks at him.

"Hey, Buck. Listen to me." With his thumb, he tenderly frees Gale's bottom lip from the cage of his teeth. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. Damn cold got everyone, it's no surprise it'd get you too. Nothing shameful 'bout that, okay?"

Later, when the other isn't as miserable as now, John will grouch to him about working himself to the bone instead of going to see Smokey as soon as he’d started feeling bad. Later, he'll make Gale promise to come to him too, if he doesn't feel like talking to their flight surgeon.

The thing is, Gale is John's safe place. With him, he doesn't have to worry about talking too much, touching too much -as much as he could in public- being too much. He just wishes Gale would allow John to be his safe place too. And he knows that Gale allowing him to see that vulnerable side of his is already a huge show of trust. But he wants Gale to trust him not only to catch him when he falls but also to lean on him when he misses a step or falters just a bit.

For now though, he accepts the small nod he gets and relishes in the soft, barely there up of the corners of his lips, which blooms into a sweet smile when Bucky leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"As soon as you're back on your feet, I'm kissing you 'till you push me away." He promises against the too-warm skin of Buck's forehead before pulling back and grinning down at him. Gale looks amused, if a bit tired, but the light in his eyes is one of amused defiance. Even if he doesn't speak, Bucky hears him anyway and it sends thrills of anticipation down his spine. Just a few days more.

There's a moment of silence as John mindlessly plays with sweaty golden strands until Buck blinks slow and long and Gale's warm hand slips into his under the blanket. He has to bite his lips to keep the dopey smile from his face but he does stroke his thumb back and forth the expanse of Gale's knuckles. Shivers still wrack his form, though they did subside a bit compared to minutes ago. It's not nearly enough for Bucky.

"You sure I can't get you anything ?" Buck audibly groans as he opens his eyes just enough to show Bucky just how hard he's rolling his eyes and John snickers sheepishly. He raises the hand not in Gale's soft grip in mock surrender, the amused glint in sky-blue eyes only spurring him on. 

"Sorry, sorry. But really, do you need anything ?" Gale licks his lips once and oh, John knows that look. It's as adorable as it makes his heart ache, the way Gale doesn't look him in the eyes. He thinks of a young boy, barely knee tall, not daring to ask his father anything and imperceptibly clenches his jaw. Softly squeezing Buck's hand in his, he smiles encouragingly when the other faces him.

"Anything, Gale." Tired eyes look at him for a moment, searching for something but John isn't sure what. He keeps his face open, knowing perfectly well there's no way he could hide how he feels about the other man when no one is around. Gale must find whatever he's looking for because he bites his lip slightly, seemingly pleased and content, if a little shy.

John is keeping a tally of how many kisses he's been robbed of.

Minutely, Gale starts scooting over and John huffs a laugh but obediently sits in the spot just vacated, back leaning on the metal headboard. He's barely put his legs on the blankets that Gale immediately presses in close to rest his head on John's lap like a cat pressing his head on his hand until he gets pets.

Bucky might just die of adoration for this sweet, sweet man he's blessed to call his.

He's half convinced the other will start purring when he strokes his fingers through his hair, nails slightly scratching at his scalp like he knows Buck likes but Gale only presses even closer to him until his body is one hot line against John's leg, a happy hum leaving him. He's asleep in one minute flat, face buried in Bucky's lap as the latter keeps playing with his hair, eyes not leaving the even rise and fall of his back.

John's so, so in love that he wonders how he ever thought he wasn't Gale's safe place just as much as Gale was his.

[miceskulls]

Wanted to post a small snippet of my series that I’m writing! It’s a Ticci Toby x reader, I got inspired by an old one shot I did and wanted to continue it.

It’ll be available to read on quotev, Ao3 and here! I plan to make it 10-20 chapters long, maybe even more depending on how I want the story to go. Hope you guys enjoy what I have so far!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

        Smoke and ash fluttered around you, framing the terror and grime that grimaced your face. There was a scream as axe struck down besides you. It was Toby, he was crying uncontrollably, sobbing on how you ruined everything, “YOU! FUCKING BITCH! You just HAD to ruin things for me didn’t you?”

        There was a pause, Toby trying to catch his breath as fire fanned his back, “Why couldn’t you just let me have this one thing? ….Why couldn’t you just love me?”

        His shoulders slumped, both of you went quiet except for your panting and Toby’s sobs. He was exposed to be happy, he had someone for once, he had you. But you betrayed him, all you did was ignore and belittle him. Treating him like some dog. Toby collapsed, his knees digging into the dry and ashy ground. Loud sobs and whimpering could be heard as he pathetically cried out. All you could do was watch as he broke down in front of you, wanting oh so desperately to be held.

        Standing up, you instinctively reach out and grab the axe Toby threw in his moment of desperation. All you could feel was numb as you lifted the axe and swung.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

        "_____?" A feminine voice broke you out of your daydream, letting out a disappointed groan you look where the voice is coming from. Sasha one of your best friends gave you a concerned look, "you've been quiet for a while, everything ok?"

        "hmm? yeah I'm fine, just lost in thought you know?" you hummed out, turning away to look out the window again. Sasha had proposed the idea of moving in with each other, saying 'it'll be fun! we already practically live together with how much you come over'. The proposal took over a year to put in motion,  housing was hard to come by in the small town. Eventually you both had to start branching out to other areas, it wasn't till about 2 months ago when you finally found a place. And now here you where 2 hours in a 5 hour drive to your new apartment. 

        "aren't you excited?" Sasha exclaimed, her excitement radiating off her. You couldn't say you were excited per say, but you were ready for the change. After 22 years of living in a boring old town and you where ready for the big city. honestly? you where ready for anywhere but there. Too many bad memories, too many regrets. 

        "please don't do this... they'll find me! PLEAS-"

        "_____!!" Sasha called out to you, a frustrated pout on her face, "are you even listening to me? come on! be more excited, we're starting a new chapter of our lives!" Sasha huffed, giving you a playful glare from the drivers seat. 

        a small smile made its way to your face, this was exposed to be a happy day. why where you so set dwelling on the past? you gave Sasha a apologetic look letting out a small chuckle , "you're right, today is exposed to be exciting. I'm just gonna miss not paying rent." 

        "me too! but now we have our own place! that's better in my opinion!" Sasha happily went on about how nice the new apartment going to be. it didn't take long for you to tune her out, she could will talk for hours and right now was no exception. turning your attention back to the window, gazing out into the passing trees. up ahead you could see a tall figure, ever so slightly sticking out from the long lanky trees. a small gasp left your lips as you made eye contact with it. before you could properly see the figure the car had already flew past it, your mind reeling.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

[m1ckeyb3rry]

CONGRATS ON 500 FOLLOWERS WOOO!! its been a little over a year since ive found your writting, how time flies T-T Could you possibly write a platonic gojo & reader oneshot where its just snippets of Gojo's first year teaching and the reader is a 1st year student not part of jujutsu society? I'd prefer if the mc had a somewhat introverted personality while being grumpy bc of being forced to attend the school. U can change their behaviour to what u feel more comfortable writing if u want tho!!

── THE SCHOLAR

Synopsis: A short snippet of how Satoru Gojo convinces you to be his first student in full.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo & Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2.6k

Content Warnings: not many tbh…reader is a d1 hater of gojo and ino ig?? also just a hater in general LMAO she does NOT want to be there

A/N: wow anon i can’t believe it’s been a year since you found my account and that you’ve stuck around for so long, that means a lot to me!! i apologize for how long this took me and how short it is 😫 it was a bit difficult for me to write gojo as a teacher without feeling like i was just rehashing his dynamic w a previous y/n i’ve written 😓 but i hope this is somewhat close to what you wanted?? also idk if you’ve read my fic pomegranate ink or not but i did throw in a reference to it at one point so props to anyone who catches that hehe

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

You weren’t really sure what cause your classmate had to be as pleased as he was, but for some reason, the boy was bouncing in his seat, scribbling down notes with the fervor of a scholar — though you were quite certain that he was nothing of the sort, at least not when his test scores were taken into consideration. 

“Hey,” you whispered, tossing an eraser at his head when your teacher’s back was turned. “Ino. What’s the big deal? We’re not even learning anything yet, so what are you writing down?”

“Are you kidding me? Gojo just told us an entire story of his past. That’s valuable information!” Ino said. You frowned at him.

“It’s not valuable information, because he’s so prone to embellishment that he’s all but an author at this point. Besides, do you think you, or anyone else for that matter, will ever face seven first grades and come out the winner, without even a scratch?” you said.

“He’s the strongest sorcerer in the world, though, so it’s feasible for him,” Ino said.

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Maybe for him, but not for anyone else. This is just bragging under the guise of an educational opportunity. We’re never going to be powerful enough to replicate such a feat, so what’s the use in wasting our time talking about it?”

“You’re such a spoil-sport,” Ino huffed. “We’re the first students to ever get to learn from Satoru Gojo, and somehow, you’re complaining about it? That’s ridiculous no matter what way you put it!”

“Is everything okay?” 

Both you and Ino jumped as Satoru Gojo appeared in front of your desks, peering down at you over the lenses of his dark glasses. He didn’t seem annoyed that you were talking while he was ‘teaching’; in fact, he looked excited, as if he wanted to join in the conversation as well. You could imagine him pulling up a chair and resting his chin in his hands as he gossiped with you, and it made you scoff.

“Everything’s fine. We were just wondering when you were actually going to start the lesson,” you said.

“She was wondering that!” Ino rushed to clarify. You shot him a dirty look out of the corner of your eye, which he ignored — you supposed loyalty didn’t mean much to him, as you two weren’t really friends and therefore couldn’t inspire much loyalty in one another regardless. “I was telling her how fascinated I am by the story you were telling!”

“Suck-up,” you hissed.

“Stupid,” he hissed back. Gojo clapped his hands, returning to the front of the classroom with a distinctly unacademic swagger to his step that made you internally fume.

“No worries, we’re just getting to that part! Today, we’ll go over some basic curse theory,” he said, drawing simplistic shapes on the chalkboard to accompany his explanations. As usual, Ino was absorbed by the standard bullshit Gojo spouted, but you found it to be so boring that you actually began to nod off, catching up on the sleep you had missed last night due to a mission which had run later than expected.

Unlike Ino, who had been automatically enrolled in the school because of his family lineage, you had been scouted as a fresh talent by Satoru Gojo himself. It had been a long conversation, and he had only managed to convince you in the end by telling you all about Kaito Hinode, the well-regarded first year teacher who you would study under. Hinode was a sorcerer you believed you wouldn’t have trouble respecting, and so you begrudgingly agreed to attend the school and give the whole notion of ‘jujutsu sorcery’ a shot.

Then Hinode retired, mere weeks before you were set to begin at the school, and his replacement was revealed to be none other than that irreverent, inept, and decidedly unserious man who you had secretly hoped you would not see much more of: Satoru Gojo.

You didn’t even want to be a sorcerer in active duty, but the theoretical side of it interested you to an almost unhealthy extent. You spent days upon days studying the workings of curses and cursed energy, to the point that you could be considered almost an expert. That was the only thing cheering you about coming to the school, that you’d get to discuss with individuals on your level, and so it had been such a heartbreaking disappointment when Gojo, who cared little about the causes and more about the results, was the only proper sorcerer you came into frequent contact with.

The other teachers didn’t have time to entertain your pestering, far too busy with their own students, which meant that Gojo was really your only option. And of course you had tried — really, you had. You had presented him with your questions and ideas, but he had only made a face and told you that studying curse theory to this extent wouldn’t help anyone, and least of all yourself.

He wanted you to learn how to fight, but you didn’t care for that. You didn’t want to fight. If you could spend the rest of your days shut away in a study, reading your books and taking notes on them, then you’d be quite content. You were reluctant to go on missions, even if you were ten times better than your peers, and you often dragged your feet heading into your practical classes. More than once, Ino had had to hoist you over his shoulders and sprint to the training field so that you were not both late, and you knew that you probably shouldn’t be so harsh on him given that, but because it meant that you had to exert yourself on the battlefield instead of rereading your favorite essays, his good intentions only made you resent him more.

“You know, you could really be a great sorcerer,” Gojo said to you one day. You were sitting on a bench while Ino did exercises, ink smudging your hand as you meticulously annotated a book that the principal had given to you. You blinked up at him, amazed once again at how tall he was. He blocked out the sunlight, his shadow looming over you in a way that would’ve been ominous if he wasn’t so typically harmless.

“Hm?” you said, returning to your book when you realized he wasn’t going to say anything of importance. “Sure, I guess I could be.”

“Becoming a first grade isn’t an impossibility for you. It’s something attainable, which is incredibly rare for someone as young as you,” he continued.

“Right,” you said.

“Do you care about that, though?” he said.

“Nope,” you said. “I have no interest in being a first grade sorcerer. It just means more dangerous missions, doesn’t it? I don’t care about all of that.”

“It also means a higher salary,” he said.

“Probably not high enough to make up for the risks,” you said.

“Well, it’s pretty high, though only you can decide if it makes up for the risks or not,” he said.

“Listen, sir, I’m only even here because you told me I could further my studies with people renowned in their fields. Do you mind telling me what field you’re renowned in? Because for some unfathomable reason, you’ve ended up as my teacher,” you said.

“I’m…the strongest sorcerer? In the world?” he said, though the way he phrased it made it seem like he was asking you instead of telling. You shrugged.

“That’s an intrinsic talent. You didn’t learn to be that way; you were just born with it. Sure, you had to practice, but practicing and studying are different. Anyways, even if you are the strongest soldier, I think we’ve established that that’s not something I’m interested in. I was supposed to be under the tutelage of wise and experienced professors, but instead, I’m being instructed by you, who’s barely even a few years my elder and has never taught before,” you said, closing your book and holding it to your chest, smiling tightly at him. “I’m staying here because my parents already paid the tuition fee, but I’m not happy about it. Just so you know.”

“If you’re a first grade sorcerer, you also get more access to information,” he said after a moment. “Stuff behind a million clearances that only people of a sufficiently high rank get access to.”

You froze, your eyes brightening at the thought of this forbidden knowledge. You already knew that you were missing several key pieces in your preliminary research, but no matter how hard you looked, you had never been able to find the answers to the seemingly obvious questions. Was this why? Was it really because you did not have the seniority to warrant the understanding?

“Is that truly the case?” you said.

“I can’t help you in terms of books and learning and all of that boring stuff,” he said. “But if you put in a bit more effort, I can turn you into someone that the higher ups listen to, instead of the other way around.”

You mulled this over before nodding, standing up and leaving your book on the bench.

“Okay. I’ll do as you tell me to, but like I said earlier, I’m not going to be happy about it,” he said.

“Who cares? You can be the gloomiest girl alive!” he said, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Let’s work together, Y/N!”

“I’m your student,” you reminded him. “Not your friend.” 

He waved you off. “You’re old enough to be both. Now let’s get to training!”

It was horrible, being Gojo’s favorite student. For one, Ino was jealous — although soon enough he found another mentor to cotton on to, and then your relationship with him mended into something a little more cordial and polite. For another, Gojo had this strange penchant for throwing you into impossible situations and watching in glee as you struggled to get out of them.

His missions also tended to be errands disguised as pressing matters. Once, he made you run around Tokyo, stopping in various stores so that you could improve your conditioning — stores which just so happened to carry the items on his week’s grocery list. Another time, you single-handedly had to exorcise every single curse harassing a nearby bakery — a bakery which just so happened to carry a specialty flavor of cake that was his new favorite. Whenever you complained about the silly chores, he asked if the exercise had made you stronger or not. You would begrudgingly admit that it had, and then he’d tell you that you should just think of it as a win-win scenario and stop whining.

“Y/N!” That was how it always began: he would shout your name as he entered the classroom, usually accompanying it with a wad of paper or some other, similarly harmless object sent flying your way. You’d catch it in one hand and glare at him.

“What?” This would prompt him to explain his ridiculous plan for the day, after which he would turn to Ino and hand him his assignments. He had gotten special permission from the school to train you in this non-orthodox manner, given that you were so far ahead in any material that giving you homework would be redundant and a waste of time for all parties involved. For his part, Ino did not complain, for he had long ago lost interest in training with Gojo, who was admittedly terrible at actually explaining anything of note.

You made a good pair, you and Gojo, or at least as good of a pair as could be made given the circumstances. As the year went on, you grew more and more familiar with the reasoning behind his atypical style, and though you would never cease to complain, it was more lighthearted, a habit instead of a genuine gripe.

“You’ll be promoted any day now,” Gojo told you on the last day of your first year — the last day that he would be your director supervisor. “They’re waiting for you to grow a bit older, but it’s maturity you lack, not talent. If you participate in the Exchange Event next year, you’ll get the recommendations you need without a problem.”

“If?” you said, picking up on what he had left unsaid. “Isn’t it mandatory? Why wouldn’t I participate?”

“It’s mandatory if you’re living on campus, yes,” he said.

“And what cause would I have to not be living on campus?” you said.

“You’re interested in curse theory, aren’t you?” he said. When you nodded, he sighed. “Still? I was hoping you’d have moved on by now…well, I can get an alternate course of study approved for you by the principal, if you want.”

“An alternate course? What would that entail?” you said.

“One of my fellow special grade sorcerers, Yuki Tsukumo, specializes in researching the exact types of things you find so fascinating. If she agrees to it, then you could serve as an assistant of sorts to her. It’ll be like an internship or something. She won’t let you slack off — it’ll be much worse than anything I put you through, that’s for certain — but if that’s the path you want to take, then it’s an option,” he said.

You had never loved him quite as much as you did in that moment. Without even taking a moment to think about it, you nodded enthusiastically, beaming at him.

“Yes! Yes, Gojo, sir, that would be ideal. I’ve read some of the proposals Tsukumo’s submitted to the higher ups, and oh, if I got to work with her, it would be such a dream,” you said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he said. “She still has to agree to it.”

“Do you think she’ll say no?” you said.

“Maybe at first,” he said. “After she meets you, though? No way. You’re my pupil, after all. You’ll be the most impressive student she’s ever taken under her wing — and I can attest to the fact that you’ll be far and away the most dedicated.”

You supposed you had some things to thank him for, then. The corners of your lips twitched as you bowed your head at him, causing him to grunt in confusion; after all, you had never shown him such deference before.

“You’re not that bad as a teacher,” you said. “You know, for it being your first time, I think you did alright.”

“Yeah?” he said eagerly before composing himself, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Yeah, I guess you turned out just fine.”

“Thank you for everything, Gojo,” you said. “Please know that you’ll always have an ally in me.”

His black sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, just a bit, but enough that you could see the way his eyes softened ever so slightly. Then he reached out and socked you in the arm affectionately.

“Considering how often I butt heads with the higher ups, I might call upon you one day,” he said. “Don’t make that kind of promise lightly, is what I’m saying.”

“I’m not making it lightly,” you said. “If you call upon me, I’ll come. That’s what you do for someone who’s changed your life, right?”

Even the shades he had shoved back into position could not hide the breadth of his smile nor the depth of his fondness. He nodded, slowly at first and then quickly, like he wanted you to be very sure of his agreement.

“True,” he said, and then he patted you on the head. “Guess that means you can call on me whenever you want, too. I’ll be there.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder as you left for the summer and thought that you might never be so fortunate — or unfortunate — as to have a teacher quite like him again.

[bedoballoons]

Omggggggg

ok but I have another one! And yes I am obsessed with demon slayer. so Tokito muichiro inspired x (angry bois also albedo and the dadd- like zhongli and Al-haithim.

so muichiro has Memory loss due to young tramaaaa, anemo vision fits best, has very baggy cloths to help with is battle technique, in his 7 form can literally turn into air, to quite but he is super fast. And ya. Ohh Also when we remember our past(tokitos brother was murdered plus his parents) I just want confurttt.

I only have one he because when I was around 1-3 l don’t remember I was diagnosed with eye cancer I things. We caught it early and we could either do chemo(which could’ve killed me) or remove the eye intirely so we did that. There’s more to the story but I’m so tired right now .

Oh my gosh! I'm so glad you're okay! It sounds like it was a scary situation but you pulled through and now you have a pretty unique quirk about you! I hope you know that's really awesome <3

YAY okay I'm so excited for this request! Sorry it's been awhile since I've answered! I do have a question though! Do you think because he turns into air and Venti is the anemo archon, he could control him in that form?!?!?

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Tokito Muichiro like reader~༺}

CW: Reader has past trauma and memory loss, slight angst but mostly comfort and fluff! Some of these are extremely long and I apologize, I just got really into writing them...

(Includes: Zhongli, Albedo, Alhaitham, and Wanderer!)

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𑁍༄Zhongli:

You sighed quietly, your head aching as memories swirled around your mind like a messy swamp...nothing making sense and yet...you were still trying to put the puzzle together. You just wanted to know...even if it would hurt, you had to know what happened in your past...

"You know, there are better ways to go about recovering your memories, as someone with a long history who remembers many things from very different time periods, I might be able to shed some light on the subject." You looked up to see Zhongli walking towards you, his voice as calm and collected as always...comforting in some ways.

You bit your lip, it seemed embarrassing to ask for help from someone else, but you'd run out of options...so it only seemed reasonable, "Please... help me." The tall man smiled at you, his eyes filled with kindness as he sat down beside you, looking up at the sky. "First of all you should take time to clear your thoughts, take a deep breath and then exhale...relieve yourself of all the unimportant thoughts clouding the memories you want to recover."

You did as he said, taking in a deep breath...and then slowly letting it out, even if it seemed a bit strange to you...it actually did help you feel slightly better. "Very good, now I want you to think about the snippets you do remember, concentrate on the little things, tiny details one wouldn't usually focus on..but don't frustrate yourself, getting overwhelmed won't do you any favours."

You nodded, closing your eyes and recalling your few memories as best as you could...the scent of the air...the sounds...even down to the smallest shred of movement...and just like that, it came back to you. The images of your brother...your parents, all of it playing over and over while you tried to stop it, but it was like you were trapped in your own memories, screaming for help.

And then, nothing...you were back in Liyue...Zhongli holding you in his arms while you stared blankly at him..."Are you alright?" He asked, but you didn't even have it in you to answer...the suddenness of what just happened leaving you silent with shock. He seemed to notice this, kissing your head softly and rubbing your back, perhaps it would be better to not remember all at once...

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedo gently touched your vision, the soft teal glow of it very familiar to him...beautiful and inviting, but earned from such sorrow and loss. A loss he wished could have been reversed...while you on the other hand, weren't focused on the vision or its meaning, you were far more concerned with perfecting your fighting style. "Albedo?" You looked at him curiously...he seemed so interested in your vision, but he'd seen many of the course of his lifetime...why was yours so captivating?

"Oh apologies love, I was just thinking about something. Back to the topic at hand, I've given your clothes a bit more of a baggy design, making sure to leave lots of room for movement and airflow. Please let me know if anything is uncomfortable, I'll make adjustments to improve their quality." He handed you a stack of clothing, the material soft and comfy looking, but also durable...perfect.

You rushed into the empty room nearby and changed clothes, leaving your old ones behind before hurrying to the dummy you'd set up by the entrance. You practiced your fighting techniques, already impressed by Albedos work and also very aware that he was watching you closely...maybe...he was worried about you?

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

Alhaitham closed his book, looking up from his desk to check on you...and noticing the bags under your eyes, you'd been tossing and turning in your sleep all night...mumbling things about death. You had him very worried, and that was saying something because he truthfully didn't concern himself with other people's issues unless they were incredibly serious, but your sleepless nights and difficult past...were starting to really impede your life, he just wanted to help.

He stood up from his chair, breaking your attention away from the plate of food you'd been poking at for a hour now and leaving you slightly confused, by now you'd gotten used to Alhaithams schedule and the one thing he never left out or cut short was his reading time...so why was he doing so? "Alhaitham, are you alright?" You asked, looking up at him slightly worried and running through different scenarios in your head, each one not really making enough sense to be considered a explanation.

"I'm perfectly fine, I'm more concerned with you. Would you like to take a nap together? You look exhausted and I can only assume you won't want to sleep alone because of your recent nightmare increase." Alhaitham held out his hand to you, gesturing towards the door as you tried to comprehend what he'd just said...he wanted to take a nap with you? "Oh...alright." You didn't really know a better way to answer as you accepted his hand and the two of you made your way to the large couch in the livingroom.

You crawled onto it first, watching as he left for a moment, only to return with your favourite blanket. Then he joined you on the sofa, sighing in content as you cuddled up to him and he covered you both up, in truth he was hoping this would help with not only your lack of sleep...but the nightmares themselves. He just wanted you to be okay.

𑁍༄Wanderer:

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Turning into air...was unlike anything else, exhilarating...calming...terrifying and apparently one of your most alluring qualities, well in Wanderers opinion anyway. Other than him most of the people in Sumeru considered this some type of witch craft, even though you carried a vision...they saw you as an outsider and whenever you attempted to take a trip to the city you get many stares.

Wanderer was the only one who found it beautiful, although to be honest he found everything about you beautiful and for some reason you were incredibly easy to talk to...to relate to. You'd share moments together where one of you would be caught up thinking about the things you couldn't change...forced to remember times you'd wish you could forget and then you'd comfort eachother, make the other feel better just by knowing what it was like.

"Heyyy get your head outta the clouds. The sooner we help her royal majesty the cabbage head, the sooner we can go home." Wanderer gently bonked your head, pulling you back into reality and making you smile, a very light blush colouring your cheeks.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[xpulchritudinousx]

guys im so excited for my wip that I just wanna post a little snippet of it. idek if im gonna finish it bc it's a lot of writing and i have like 0 motivation, but i rllly wanna try to! this is very much heavily inspired by Letters from Katsuki by @saeshiraw on here. I loved this story so much, especially as someone who loves classic literature and wanted to write my own fic of Katsuki as a soldier, bc wdymmm this is the only story with that concept, I genuinely love it sm and decided i wanted to add to it. So full credits to them for writing so beautifully, I genuinely felt so inspired.

Pls lmk what you guys think! Enjoy :)

This marriage wasn’t arranged for business or financial gain, but for his parents to rest assured they’re soft hearted son was cared for. You found the concept preposterous, never imagining that man could even crack a smile, let alone be anything near soft nor tender. But that was before the short lived war, with his body left to heal and his heart weakened, your families insisted on speeding up the process. So here you were, squeezed into your wedding gown made to look like royalty while your husband to be was still bandaged, his right arm in a sling underneath his suit coat. If not for the bandages tousling his hair and the patch on his cheek, you’d find the man almost… Handsome. He didn’t say a word to you, expression left stone cold as he stood in front of you, his left hand shakily signing the marriage contract. With you following suit, frowning down at the paper with malice in your gaze.

Wishing that if you glared down at it long enough that the paper would burn up, but no such luck had reached you. The evening barely passed by as enjoyable, with him trying to waltz with you, but stepping on your foot and becoming disoriented from standing for too long. While all your guests enjoyed themselves, you were left sitting with the man you now had to call your husband. Silence had encompassed you both in a small cloud, covering both your view of anything positive and your judgement. Turning your head to the man next to you with a look of disdain as he stays silent, watching everyone else weave through the area. The venue was simple, with his riches not being much, but more than the common man. It wasn’t the palace of roses you’d longed for as a child, but it was covered in flowers. Those same rouge red roses you’d read storybooks about covering the tables, draped along the arches of the garden’s walls. It wasn’t filled with splendor nor was it expensive, but it was unique and gentle. The fireflies coming out and illuminating the dimness that began somehow making the evening feel more hopeful. The man seated beside you seemed unaffected by the area, not even giving it a second glance. In your head you marked the beautiful night off as the cheapest he could go, allowing the man to guide you away from the party when he grew bored. And inside you both went to your new home just in front of the wedding party, with him jutting his chin over to the curtains for you, voice gruff and words short. Turning away without thanking you, leaving you to do as he says, clumsily following after him as you clutch to your gown trying your best to keep up.

Not bothering to call after the man in front of you, biting down on your trembling lip as you watch him almost run off.

This wasn’t what you wanted…

[mistythedritten]

Snippet!

@rat-rosemary made an AU a couple of days ago that I saw while waiting for my brother's graduation cerimony to start, and I was inspired to write a thing. So I did!

“Okay, so someone obviously snuck into the tent while we were out getting supplies and threatened him, I bet it was Quackity. My ex is relentless,” Sapnap grumbles, kicking at a root. “Because you don’t just run away from the people you love like that, right?”

“Yeah, Dream dumb, but not that dumb,” George agrees, stretching and popping his back. “Your idea is stupid, though; there weren’t any tracks to show people around us, besides Dream’s desperate bootprints.”

“Well, what could it be then?” Sapnap demands, cutting some thistles out of the way. 

“You saw the infection site, I may not have nearly as much medical experience as Bad, or even Antfrost, but I have enough to know he was having fever dreams galore.”

Sapnap snorts. “Dream having fever dreams because he’s a feverish Dream.” He checks the tattoo on his wrist, double-checking their direction. 

George slaps Sapnap’s arm, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, Dream probably hallucinated something, and I won’t bore you with my brain and dream science specifics of how that works, but he thought it was real and important, so he ran off.” 

Sapnap nods, stepping over a tree root. “You know, speaking of Bad, we should call him. Maybe he could help us?”

They pause, thinking. It had been several weeks of chasing after Dream by this point, and honestly, they just wanted to catch up to him so they could reassure him that his feelings were returned and figure out why he was even running in the first place. After all, he was the one who confessed to them about how long he had been in love with them. 

“You know what, let’s do that this evening, after we set up camp,” George says, checking his own tracking tattoo. “If anyone can knock sense into Dream’s head, it should be him.”