#apparently I had this saved in my drafts...

[andy-15-07]

I REALLY REALLY LOVE UR WRITING FOR DANNY RAMIREZ CHARACS, COMPLETES MY DAY EVERYTIMEEE. Can I make a request on Ash Graver in a College AU? Could be enemies-to-loversss

Tysm <3

From Rivalry to Right Here

PAIRING: Ash Garver x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 1762 ✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way — I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

You glared at the back of Ash Garver’s head as he breezed into the lecture hall ten seconds before class started,again. You tightened your grip on your notebook, resisting the urge to stomp your foot. Of course he was here to steal the best seat, the comfiest spot by the window, the one you’d been gunning for all semester.

“Save a seat for me, Y/N?” he called over his shoulder with that trademark smirk. His dark curls bounced as he sat down three rows ahead of you, fully expecting you to march up and lecture him on civility.

Forget it. You weren’t giving him the satisfaction. Ever since you’d both been assigned to the same Political Science seminar, he’d made it his life’s mission to needle you,correcting your out-loud annotations, raising his hand before you could, and giving you that smug half-smile whenever you stumbled over an argument.

Professor Chen strode in, tapping the microphone. “Good morning. Today: interest-group theory. Let’s,”

Ash raised his hand. “Professor, would you clarify the way collective action models apply to our local chapter example?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he had to steal the first question, too.

Later that afternoon, you headed to the campus coffee shop to drown your frustration in a triple-shot latte. You pulled out your laptop, determined to finish your seminar paper on women’s suffrage lobbying. Your fingers danced across the keyboard until,

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see Ash holding his own coffee, giving you a tentative half-wave. Your heart lurched,why was he here? The coffee shop was huge. You were in your corner for a reason.

“What do you want?” you asked, punctuating your words with a glare.

He glanced at his latte, unscrewing the lid. “I heard you’re behind on that group project for Poli 302.”

Your jaw dropped. “That’s none of your business.”

He leaned in closer. “It is if we’re partners.”

��Partners?”

He nodded, discomfort flickering in his eyes. “When I got the email, I thought there was a mistake. But apparently you and I are the two ‘most prepared and motivated students’,Chen’s words,so he teamed us up.”

You stared at him. “He called us motivated?”

He shrugged, dark lashes brushing his cheeks. “Don’t look at me.”

You closed your laptop with a snap. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

Ash smiled,genuinely,like the world had momentarily righted itself. You hated that smile.

You met two days later in the deserted library wing. A stack of journal articles lay between you. He offered you a seat.

“I looked at interest-group strategies for environmental policy,” he said, launching right in. “What angle are you thinking for campaign messaging?”

You crossed your arms. “I’m focusing on demographic targeting and media framing for women’s rights.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ambitious.”

“Necessary.”

He considered. “Okay. So environmental and women’s rights. We could do a comparative case study,examine how both groups used social media, rallies, and direct lobbying in 2018.”

You blinked. “That’s… actually a good idea.”

He grinned and slid a spreadsheet across the table. “I made a draft outline.”

You blinked again. “You’re organized.”

He shrugged modestly. “I know my weaknesses.”

A pause,then you realized he was looking at you. Really looking. His green eyes were curious, almost gentle. You swallowed.

“Thanks,” you muttered, clearing your throat.

He straightened. “Let’s divvy up the sections.”

Over the next week, you discovered unexpected things about Ash. He was the kid who volunteered at local shelters. He read novels,Tolstoy was a favorite. He remembered your coffee order without you reminding him. And he worked late in the library until it closed, sometimes nodding off into his laptop.

You, in turn, surprised him. He learned you’d grown up writing letters for your grandmother’s nonprofit, which sparked your passion for policy. You were an ice-dancer,your summers spent training on real ice, dreaming of Olympics that never came. He’d always assumed you were just a studious bookworm.

Late one evening, you stayed behind at the library to finish editing your section. Ash came in, rubbing his eyes.

“You locked yourself out again?” you teased.

He gave you a half-smile. “Copy/paste error. I didn’t see that duplication until just now.”

You scooted over. “Here,let me help.”

He sighed and let you. You pointed out missing citations. He nodded, gratitude soft on his face.

He closed his laptop. “I owe you dinner.”

You laughed. “In your dreams. I’m not your research assistant,”

He cut you off with a grin. “What about as gratitude for saving my grade?”

You bit your lip. “Tell you what: if my part gets an A, you buy dinner. If yours does, I buy.”

“Deal,” he said, and the weight of his handshake sent a thrill down your spine.

Presentation day arrived. You and Ash stood before the class, nerves humming in your bellies.

“This study examines comparative strategies used by environmental and women’s rights groups in 2018,” Ash began. His voice was strong and steady. He clicked slides showing campaign timelines. You watched him, admiration curdling into something warmer.

When your turn came, you stepped forward, laying out messaging frameworks with the confidence that only long practice could build. Ash caught your eye from the back of the room, giving you a subtle thumbs-up. Your heart sped up,and not just from nerves.

You finished to applause. Professor Chen beamed. “Impressive work. A.”

You exhaled beside Ash as students filed out. “I think we both get A’s.”

He smirked. “Guess you owe me dinner.”

You punched him lightly. “Go pick the place.”

That evening you met at your favorite taco truck, laughing at spilled salsa and awkward tofu choices. Your shoulders brushed, and you felt static,a current you could no longer pretend wasn’t there.

“Here,” he said, handing you a spicy mango taco. “Your victory taco.”

You bit into it, flames of chili dancing on your tongue. You squealed. “Too spicy!”

He chuckled, offering you a milk shake. “Here. Peace offering.”

You took it gratefully, smiling around whipped cream. “Thanks.”

He watched you eat, smoky lamplight accentuating his features. He looked… soft. Vulnerable.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him. “Yeah?”

He cleared his throat. “I,uh,I had fun tonight.”

You grinned. “Me too.”

He hesitated, thumb brushing yours. “I was wondering… maybe we could do this again? Outside of academic obligation.”

Your breath caught. “I’d like that.”

Over the next month, you worked side by side and flirted in between research. You borrowed his hoodie; he stole your fries; you stayed up debating constitutional amendments until the dawn. The more time you spent together, the more your rivalry melted into something tender, something deliciously complicated.

One crisp evening, you walked the campus quad under golden streetlamps, the autumn air sharp enough to sting your cheeks. You crossed your arms, shivering despite your layers.

Ash fell into step beside you, eyes flicking to your trembling shoulders. “You’re freezing,” he said, his tone soft.

You forced a laugh. “I’m fine.”

He reached out without warning, slipping off his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The warmth spread through you instantly. “No, you’re not.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the gentle concern in his eyes. “You don’t have to,”

He cut you off, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your face toward his. His breath ghosted over your lips. “I want to.”

You caught the jacket’s scent,his cologne mixed with leather,and your heart fluttered.

“Is this… okay?” you whispered.

He smiled, brushing the back of his thumb across your cheek. “More than okay.”

Your breath caught as his jacket settled over you, bridging the space between rivalry and something undeniably tender.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he admitted, voice low.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, then gently took your hand in his and led you silently through the dorm to your room. The door clicked shut behind you and the corridor noise faded as he turned to face you.

His gaze was intense, hungry yet tender. He reached out, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You’re all I want tonight.”

You swallowed, heart pounding. “Then show me.”

He needed no further encouragement. His lips found yours in a deep, searing kiss, hands roaming your back as he pulled you toward the bed. You melted against him, hands tangling in his shirt as he lifted it over your head.

You shivered in anticipation, and he responded by trailing kisses down your collarbone, each one igniting warmth beneath your skin. Your fingers fumbled with his belt, and he helped, lowering both your layers simultaneously until you stood before him in delicate lace.

His breath hitched as he surveyed you. “Beautiful,” he whispered, voice thick.

You stepped closer, hands sliding down his chest. “Ready?”

He nodded, cupping your face. “Always.”

He guided you onto the bed, positioning himself above you. Slowly, deliberately, he entered you, giving you time to adjust to the exquisite fullness. You gasped, lifting your hips to meet his.

He began a rhythmic pace, each movement strong and sure, building a delicious tension that pulsed through your body. You met him in every thrust, gasping his name, nails tracing his back.

“Y/N…” he groaned, voice rough. “You feel perfect.”

You arched into him. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Instead, he picked up speed, hands gripping your hips as he drove you both toward the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed through you, and you cried out, clinging to him.

He flipped you gently onto your stomach, kissing a line down your spine before pulling you up onto your knees. “I want to see all of you,” he murmured.

You whimpered as he thrust into you from behind, the angle even deeper, overwhelming. His name spilled from your lips with every movement.

He reached around to rub tight circles over your clit, the double sensation making you shudder. “Come for me,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me feel it.”

You came undone with a scream, body wracked with waves of pleasure. He followed moments later, voice broken and needy as he spilled into you, holding you against his chest as you both came down.

He collapsed beside you, arms tight around your waist. You turned in his embrace, pressing your lips to his shoulder.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, breath still shallow. “Never better.”

He kissed your forehead. “I love you,” he murmured.

You smiled, sliding your arms around his torso. “I love you too.”

He held you close as sleep claimed you, rivalry now a distant memory. All that mattered was here and now,right in his arms.

[thevioletcaptain]

my eye twitches every time someone gets on the internet & asks an author or screenwriter or actor for permission to have a headcanon

[nejackdaw]

(reads my own fic) woah. I'm so good at my job

[dipplinduo]

Oh diiiipliiiin~! No music this time but I had an idea that I couldn't resist leaving here for you. Kieran being fully under the toxic chain's influence until Juliana, or maybe even someone else gets put into (Possible) mortal danger and him breaking free of the toxic chain's influence completely with his own strength. The idea gives me the evil giggles and I just had to slide it your way. Do with it what you will you're free to use it if you like it.

(Context: my request for S&S D What If Prompts)

Oh don't mind me I am DIABOLICALLY LAUGHING in undisclosed plans because the way Kieran's gonna break the curse has been pre-determined since before Chapter 1 was released. Something tells me you're gonna like it based on this ~ ✨

[nottsangel]

hii beautiful, I saw an anon spilling tea on here and I got two questions first may I spill a little too pleasee it's like my neighbours purposely yell louder just for me and my friends don't wanna know, second can I be an emoji anon? 🪐

you can always spill tea bb 🙂‍↕️ and that emoji isn’t available anymore but you can check here which ones are taken! i’d also need your age and pronouns <3

[can-of-slorgs]

Im dying at your tags on that last anon 😭😂 youre now the dr.sloth pinup artist that neopets needed

Not the title i wanted to craft for myself when i started this blog but hey, it brought us such good memories like

[mysteriouswolf]

...I would like to mention that I saw someone dressed up as Crowley yesterday and she was hot as fuck with those sunglasses on god help me I was dying AND SHE SAID TO ME SHE WAS HOPING SHE WOULD SEE SOMEONE DRESSED UP AS AZRIPHALE AND GOD I WANTED TO SAY

"I could be the Azriphale to your Crowley."

But no. We just ✨ l o v e ✨ anxiety

[laaawliet]

hi heyo my name is andrea and this is my crib *cool hip pose* im currently 30 and ive been in this hellsite for about 15 years (help). i never know what im doing. this is not a fandom specific blog, i have no posting schedule, im generally a mess but do try to tag every other thing :') if you need me to blacklist something, please reach out!

i write occasionally! i used to make graphics back in the day! here's some useful links for ya:

[ my fics ] [ gifsets ] [ graphics ]

i crave human interaction, so i will always welcome asks and replies and anything resembling connection lol so please reach out if you want!

[jasper-the-menace]

Are you even putting that guy into situations if you're not working on three different fics where he's being tortured (both physically and psychologically)?

[superfluouskeys]

i'm so burned out lol we're already at 'works for 20 minutes before she needs a loooooooooooong break' levels

[maximumhideoutpatrol]

I lived bitch

Definitely requires context. Since 2018 I have had what I've been followed by what I've deemed a March Curse, and for a while it was of increasing Badness each year:

2018: "friend" outed me to her parents (who was my soccer coach and friends with my parents) various fall out and social problems associated to that

2019: Almost the whole month my dad's out of town for work, had a meeting with my pastor and a friend bc pastor was leaving after an affair scandal (it was a Whole Thing), my mom had a mystery illness for a month (hospitalizations, etc), continued grief from a sudden family death. Extras: My brother and I had tech and performances for a ballet, and I ran the county orchestra festival my school hosted almost single-handedly

2020: Obligatory start of Covid mention, but for flavor in the week leading up to that I found out a family friend and bandmate had taken pictures down my shirt the year prior, my counselor was a dick about it and legitimately traumatized me in his response, had a migraine for the first time, started to get regular panic attacks

2021: best friend went awol for 38 days (started in mid-february, hit hard and had mental health repercussions), the beginning of the end of high school and realizing how much I had actually lost in the past year, burnout hit hard, anniversaries of the past marches started to become a Problem

2022: had a feeling that ants were crawling over my body every night for a full week (no explanation), found out I was severely anemic (and had a classic American Healthcare System Moment), got COVID (despite masking everywhere I went), came back to the ballet company for the first time (emotional roller coaster), started to realize that college wasn't working for me

AND THEN THIS YEAR

NOTHING

THE CURSE FUCKING BROKE

The power trip I went on when I realized at like 8pm that it was March 31st was Wild, it was crazy windy and I went on a walk and yelled at and cursed the universe (I guess?) that I fucking won. I stayed up to watch the countdown to April 1st, had a full on celebration by myself, and cried for a solid 30 minutes when the day changed, I cannot put words to how I felt, it was crazy.

[psychesmoon]

IT'S FORTNITE??? 😭

it is, i'm sorry😭😭😭 i still think you not knowing is extremely valid and i wish i was you fr rjfjdj useless shooter game knowledge in my head go brrrrrrr

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight

a.n; I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OKAY? I HAVE HAD IT IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE A YEAR ALREADY AND I NEED YA'LL TO RANT WITH ME ABOUT THISSSS<3 it's mostly enemies to lovers💕

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

"For the love of–... I'M COMING!"

It's Sunday morning. You have been expecting this day to wake up maybe mid-morning, with the gentle warm breeze coming from your open window; have an exquisite brunch that you have been planning and craving since Friday; maybe watch an episode or two of your favorite show before preparing a full spa day, with a long and refreshing bath included. That's how you have planned your Sunday to go.

But no… Apparently, someone's intention was to ruin the whole day for you while their knocks on your door were persistent and annoying at 6 freaking a.m.

You don't think about what you're wearing before stumbling towards the door, with the loud BANGS still sounding. You think of your poor neighbors next door and their newborn baby.

"This little shit," you protest, completely annoyed with this person knocking on your door like someone has died. "Someone better be dead or else…" You open the door in one strong pull and huff utterly annoyed when you encounter the person behind.

Vermillion eyes collide with yours, the intense hate and annoyance so palpable in the air it almost cuts you both.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He tchs, rolling his eyes at you. The bile travels up through your esophagus, and you want to spit at him.

"Save the greetings, if you know what a decent greeting means… Well, considering how well you just did it, I doubt you fuckin’ know…"

The muscle at your temple twitches so hard, you believe he is actually able to see it. That would explain his upcoming smirk.

"The fuck do you want?" You repeat, not even caring or taking the time to follow this banter with him. You would normally do it, come back at him with a snarky response that would probably hurt his ego and he would answer back making you even angrier, and yada yada, nothing new to this ‘hate x hate’ relationship you had with this man in front of you. But today is not a day you planned on dealing with Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki.

He looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting a bit with the buttons on his all-black suit jacket you just now noticed he is wearing. Interesting; he never uses formal suits like this one if it isn't for a Hero Gala, and that was only once a year. Or that one time you remember he had to apologize to citizens through a TV interview with Deku because of a villain attack in Hokkaido they couldn't quite contain on time and caused a lot of material damage. You shake your head coming back to the present. Pro Hero Dynamight, a.k.a. Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki is standing right at your door, looking a bit nervous while playing with the buttons of his jacket, furrowing his eyebrows like he is angry even at the air he breathes.

You could have expected anything from this unpredictable man who infuriated you almost twenty-four hours a day, the seven days of the whole week. However, you were not expecting at all the words that come from his mouth after he looks up again and his eyes lock with yours.

"Fucking marry me."

Your eyes open wide. And the only thing you think of doing is punching him. And you do.

Your hands close in tight fists, and before saying anything, you punch his shoulder as strongly as you can with one. You know for sure your small and useless fist won't do any damage to this hulk of a man, but the meaning behind it it's what matters.

He simply looks at you in disbelief. "Ouch?" He smirks. He fucking smirks at you, and this time you punch his stomach, which does make him grunt and hover a bit in pain.

You attempt to close the door right at his face, but he suddenly pushes it with his hand and makes you waver a bit back, holding yourself on the door handle. He stands straight again, retrieving his hand from the door when he realizes he used more force than intended to prevent you from closing the door.

"I- umm- Shit, sorry, I didn't-..." 

You raise a hand to stop him from talking.

"Just fucking tell me what you want, so I can go back to bed and not see your ugly face for the rest of my day."

You watch in satisfaction how his face contours into full rage. And this time you smirk. 

"I fucking hate you…" He spits, and you bat your lashes at him while smiling.

"Ah, the feeling is mutual, baby."

Bakugou takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding himself on the door frame with strength. You're sure his hand shape will print on it, and you get more annoyed –if that's possible, but you have already learned that when Bakugou was involved, the anger was immeasurable– thinking that you will have to hire someone to fix that.

"I fucking hate you," he repeats through his teeth with his eyes still closed, but then he opens them, and his entire face changes into something you never expected to see. He looks at you, begging, "But I need you to marry me."

You look… perplexed. Again, never in your life have you ever come across the thought that those words would ever come from the man in front of you, much less towards you.

You open your mouth to say something, but the neighbor from the apartment in front of yours opens his door, standing there with his arms crossed and looking menacingly.

"Everything okay, Y/N?" His deep baritone voice asks. Bakugou turns his head and when he sees him, stands straight, head held high and you can imagine the type of defying expression on his face.

You roll your eyes. Men.

"Yes, Arisu, everything is fine. He's… a… friend," the word stung your tongue because you couldn't consider Bakugou that, even though you shared the same group of friends. But it wouldn't have been good having these two fight over something you still didn't understand what was happening; the thought of who of these two hulk men would win still was entertaining to think about. Your money was on Arisu, of course.

"Alrigh’," Arisu says, looking at Bakugou up and down before retrieving himself back into his apartment.

"The fuck this fucking extra-..." You stop Bakugou from turning and going towards Arisu by holding his arm and pulling him towards you.

"Stop it. Come inside," you demand, pulling him as he watches your hand around his bicep, "before any of my neighbors file a complaint against me thanks to your fucking loud mouth."

Bakugou grunts at your words as he lets you pull him inside. When you close the door and turn to him, you realize how big he looks in your small apartment, where there is barely space between the living room and the kitchen and two doors, one leads to your bedroom and the other to the bathroom. You want to laugh at how uncomfortable he looks.

You take a deep breath, scratching your forehead to regain a bit of patience –which was non-existent whenever Bakugou was around.

"Okay, now, explain to me what the hell is wrong with you."

"Nothing is wrong with me. More like what's wrong with you and this small thing you call apartment… When did you-..."

"Bakugou! I didn't invite you in for you to start insulting my living space!" You say more exasperated by every second he is in there. "Tell me what the hell happened to you! Why did you come here, almost tearing down the door of my place at 6 in the fucking morning, annoying even my neighbors, and then you fucking propose out of nowhere!"

His lips are held in a tight line as he watches you almost yell at him, hands opening and closing anxiously. There is silence for a couple of minutes before he says, "My father died."

You gasp, taking a step back. Wow. That's something you were not expecting at all. You get now why the black suit. And now that you look at him better, his eyes look glassy and reddish –probably thanks to how much he's holding himself back from showing any other emotion that isn't anger. And that's… sad.

Your arms immediately hug yourself, one hand settling over your chest. "I- I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," he turns a bit to the left, facing the kitchen to avoid looking at you. "Fucker was a right pain in the ass."

You choke on the laugh that almost escapes you at his words, and after you clear your throat you murmur, "Sorry." He looks at you a bit amused, the right corner of his mouth lifted a bit at your reaction.

You sigh again after a few seconds of silence, "Bakugou, what does that have to do with you asking me to-...”

"My great-grandparents are-were the funders and CEOs of TCA Technologies Corp.," your eyes open wide at the name of the prestigious company that had been ground-breaking in the creation and use of robots, before being the number one seller of technology materials to support heroes. They were high class in society, civilians and heroes. "Yeah, that's the face every extra makes," he smirks when you stick your tongue out at him.

He then looks at you up and down and immediately looks away, clearing his throat in a clear gesture of shyness. You frown confused.

"Fucking go put some clothes on."

That's when you remember you had no pants, no bra, and an old shirt that barely covered your panties. Fuck. You almost run towards your room to get changed. All of this had to be a dream… or a nightmare.

Your Sunday was entirely ruined. You know that for sure.

After you change to decent, more covered clothing, leggings and a big shirt that almost reached your knees –it is Sunday, dammit, and the hell you are gonna dress up for Bakugou Katsuki– you walk again towards the living room where you left said asshole waiting for you there. He is now sitting on your couch, his suit jacket lying over the back of it. His elbows are resting over his knees, his hands holding his head. You have never encountered a tired Bakugou, yet here he is. Looking beaten and down.

He looks up at you when he hears you approach him; his eyes are more reddish than before, kind of like when you want to cry but don't let yourself do it. That made you feel bad for thinking about him as an asshole.

"What took you so long, short-legs? Whatever you wear, you'll still stink and look ugly on it."

Nope. He is and will always be a stupid asshole.

You roll your eyes grunting as you let yourself fall on the couch, as far away from him as you can on that three-people couch, crossing your legs under you.

"Spit it out, asshole. What's all this about?"

He sighs, "My father inherited it all after my grandfather died. His whole life had been that stupid company, his and my mother's. I don't give a fuck about it, but the old hack insists that I- ow!"

You pinch him on the shoulder this time, knowing very well that if you had punched him he wouldn't have felt anything. But pinching… he did feel that.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Don't call your mom like that, idiot!"

"Fucking piss off, you know shit! The old hack is an old hack, she deserves the title."

You shake your head in disagreement but decide to leave that topic there considering how affected he looks by it.

"The old hack said," he simply repeats that to spite you, and you really want to punch him, "that I need to step up and be fucking CEO of that bullshit, or…"

He looks at you, and you gulp, kind of understanding where this is going.

"Or get married." You finish the sentence, crossing your arms over your chest, "But why? Those two options are completely different from one another."

"The sky will fucking fall the day I understand any-fucking-thing that comes out of her mouth. She's nuts!" He protests, arms exaggerating his words as he opens them wide, evidently showing how much stress he has, before laying back on the couch, head resting over the back of it where his jacket is. He sighs long and deeply before talking again, "My great-grandmother had a strong Quirk, but she decided to stay at home instead of being a Hero. Those were other times, ya'know?"

"I know History of Heroes, Bakugou. I'm not stupid."

He looks at you again, this time genuinely surprised, "I, umm, thought you-..."

"Have you ever thought that despite not having a Quirk, I know about heroes?"

He tchs, "No wonder why you and shitty Deku are such shitty nerds."

You roll your eyes for the eleventh time that morning, "Get to the point, shitty asshole."

Bakugou scoffs, clearly holding back a retort to answer back, then he continues, "I'm the first in generations with a strong, hero-level Quirk. Most of my family had decided to live as civilians, building this stupid company from generation to generation."

"Oh, and you are the first actual Hero in the family. You are the first one to choose differently…"

He nods in response, "It almost gave my grandfather a heart attack. Ever since my Quirk woke up, I knew what I wanted," he looks back at you, and for the first time, you admit to yourself that you're curious of knowing what he wants, what goes through his head, so you nod allowing him to continue, "I want to be a Number One Hero. I want to kick villains' asses as much and as hard as I can for as long as my stupid aging bones allow me to."

The intensity in his eyes and conviction in every word he spoke made you feel his passion. And that was… new.

"But to be that, I can't afford to waste time in falling in love and all that bullshit…"

"Then say no to your mom and the company," you offer as a solution. He snorts letting his head fall back against the couch.

"You know shit…" He shakes his head, "There's a requirement in every hero company, it says that a familiar, or a spouse if the hero is married, has to validate your mental sanity alongside a doctor to keep working as a Hero."

"I… didn't know that."

"Of course not, short-legs. You're not a hero, why would you know?"

"So, if I… If we get married-..." he nods in confirmation even before you say the words. But he says them.

"The old hag won't have to validate my status as Hero anymore, and she won't have anything to hold me back from sending her and the company to hell."

You looked serious at him, "Bakugou, you and I don't like each other. You hate me and I hate you. And you want to put your Hero status in my hands by marrying me?" You say in disbelief, almost anxious about the whole meaning of this. You stand up and walk from one side to the other as you keep talking, "Why? Because your inner kid is in rebellious tantrum mode and does not want to take the responsibility to-..."

"Shut the fuck up! You. Know. Shit!" He also stood up, shortening the distance between you two in the small living room.

"Then tell me! Explain it to me! Cause to me you only sound like a spoiled brat who doesn't want his veggies for lunch."

He looks you right in the eye, hands almost trembling in fists beside his body, and then he drops the bomb.

"My mother killed my grandfather."

You recoil a step back, "What?"

He sighs, hands and fingers running through his hair, clearly uncomfortable, "I-... There is no proof, no solid proof about it. I just- I know it was her." Again, the conviction in his eyes made you believe him. "My mother wanted the money, the luxury life being with my dad could bring her. But my dad had a brother, an older brother."

"Had?"

Bakugou simply shakes his head, "The idiot got himself in between a shooting from two villain groups. He was shot only once, and it killed him. A fucking looser…" 

You try, you really tried not to smile but failed miserably. "You are the idiot," you say fighting back the chuckle.

He smiles back, "No, I got shot several times, I even got thrown at and through walls, and I'm very much fucking alive. I'm no weak ass looser as him."

You can't stop laughing, Bakugou definitely is an idiot.

He waits until you're done laughing before continuing, "Even then, my grandfather didn't think my dad was capable of handling the company and all it meant, so he was thinking about giving it to one of his nephews. That's when, I fuckin’ know, my mother took matters into her own hands. I'm an only child. If I say no…"

"The company has to go to another familiar..." Everything washes clear now in your head, “And your mom won't allow that to happen. So she’ll lie and say you aren’t sane enough to keep working as a hero,” Bakugou keeps nodding, confirming everything you’re saying.

“That way, I’m obligated to work at the company.”

Your hand travels from your forehead and brushes your hair back. “She wouldn’t that… She’s your mom, Bakugou...”

“Haven’t you heard a fucking thing I said? She fucking killed my grandfather so the company was legally inherited by my father! Therefore, she could hold all the rights, all the stupid money! My father was a fucking dimwit who believed every-fucking-thing my mother said. She controlled him as she pleased.”

You gasp as another realization hits you, “That’s why you are an asshole to her…”

“She can fool anyone, but not me.” He declares, standing tall and proud. “I have never played her game, and I fuckin’ never will.”

You hug yourself once more, taking some minutes to assimilate all the confessions he just dropped on you. Everything feels like a script of a freaking movie or something. And there are too many questions you want to ask. But there’s only one thing you mostly don’t understand and you need the answer to.

So you look back at him, head tilting up a bit due to the height difference between you, and ask, “Why me?”

Bakugou does not hesitate in his answer. 

“You’re strong, despite not having a Quirk. And smart. You don’t let anyone dictate what you can or cannot do,” he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, “You have never backed down from a discussion, with me or anyone else. You don’t let anybody step on you, holding tight to your convictions and beliefs.”

You visibly gulp, feeling a little warmth in your cheeks that makes you want to look elsewhere, but you don't. You hold the connection between your eyes like dear life. And he smiles, the left corner of his mouth raising a bit.

“You have a fuckin’ strong character, you won't even shy down from me,” you suddenly feel the back of his index finger caress the right side of your jaw, where lays an old scar he perfectly recognized.

It was the scar he accidentally left when you were younger, stupider. He had picked a fight with another newbie hero –another asshole in your opinion– who kept talking shit about his other newbie hero friends. Bakugou had snapped when the guy mocked the word “whore” towards you. You have tried to separate them, earning yourself a punch on the right side of your face by this same man that has touched the reminder of that old memory.

“But above all that…” It’s his turn to gulp, eyes going up and down through your face. Is he… Is he looking at your lips? “You are kind. You care about everyone. You always try to solve everything for everyone –that’s fuckin’ annoying actually.”

You open your mouth to swear at him, stupid asshole; but he doesn’t give you time to say anything. “What I’m trying to fuckin’ say is–” he takes a deep breath, “You are… good. A good person. And you… You understand m- us.”

Was he going to say ‘me’? By ‘us’, you know he means heroes.

Your parents had been heroes before they died. Unfortunately, you were born Quirkless, so the dream of following your parents' path was decided the same day you were welcomed into this world. You have already made peace with this idea, it didn’t hurt like it used to when you were young. Despite not having a Quirk, you specialized in Quirk and training analysis, which granted you a job that most Hero Agencies wanted you for. Hence also how now your group of friends involved all heroes.

However, one thing is working with them, working with Bakugou Katsuki, a.k.a. Pro Hero Dynamight, who was the biggest pain in your ass you have ever had since the day you met him. Another completely different is actually marrying the pain in your ass.

You sigh, “I don’t–...”

“What? You want me to fuckin’ beg? ‘Cause I fuckin’ will…” Bakugou takes a step back and literally kneels before you. You protest, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back up, but he doesn’t let you move him even a millimeter. “What do you want? Whatever you want is yours. We can even sign a dam contract if you so want, I don’t fuckin’ care what it is. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“This is not a fucking joke, Bakugou. You are asking me to marry you. What if I have a boyfriend? You didn’t even fucking ask!”

His eyes open wide, surprised. “Do you?”

You roll your eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. “No! I don’t!”

“Then, what are you bitching about?”

You groan. “I’m bitching about the fact that I don’t know why would you put a whole big deal on me when we hate each other!”

“I trust you.”

It’s a short answer, his expression is even so neutral and sure that leaves you perplexed. Surprised at how easily he said those words.

“We don’t like each other…”

“I don’t need to like you to trust you, idiot.” It feels like he’s mocking you, but one look into his eyes and what he is saying actually feels right. He is completely sure of what he is saying. “I would even fuckin’ trust you with my life.”

He already does. Every day, at work.

Still, you can’t pass the opportunity to piss him off. “Wow. That’s deep, buddy.”

“Fuck you.”

Mission accomplished.

You laugh gently, looking at him still kneeling on the floor of your living room. The sight in itself is a miracle. A sight you won't get to see ever again from this man. But it’s not the image of his kneeling position that makes you take the decision.

It’s his eyes.

They are screaming, desperately begging for you to help him. And, damn it, he is right; you always are at the disposal of everyone when they need your help. Fuck! It is actually very annoying –but you will never admit that out loud, especially not to him.

You close your eyes, head tilting back, and take a long, deep breath.

You are so going to regret this.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Bakugou Katsuki immediately stands up and practically throws himself at you, his whole hulk of a body surrounding you in what you have never thought would ever happen between you two: a hug.

Are you though?

[threebea]

I have started to think of the Jedi being blamed for the Fall of the Republic like blaming firefighters for wildfires.

They have been fighting fires (corruption) for years, but the fire is getting bigger and hotter and spreading farther. They're doing their best but there aren't enough of them to go everywhere there are fires. The Senate points them to where really big fires are, but sometimes it turns out they just want their property saved and there weren't that many people in the building. The Jedi still save lives but they have to look at the bigger picture and hope volunteers will put out the little fires because they simply don't have the people for every little fire even though they wish they did. The Senate starts restricting their use of water. Then an arsonist, Palpatine, is made mayor and takes control of their budget.

Dooku and the CIS start lighting fires on purpose. Palpatine let's Dooku know where the most flammable places are.

And the firefighters (Jedi) keep fighting the fire. They can't not fight the fire. People will die if they don't fight the fire. Then the government is like: there are not enough firefighters to fight the fire, but here is a large population of people we will force to fight the fire with you. You shouldn't have qualms, apparently an individual that used to work for you is the one that paid for their training so really they're your responsibility. You'll be in charge of them on the field and get to watch them die, but we control their lives and have decided they're not people so we don't have to pay them. Good deal. We are good at fighting fires.

And the Jedi can't say no because they need to stop the fire and they can't do it alone at this point. Many of the Jedi are killed in their attempts to stop the gasoline fire Dooku lights and it shows how badly they need these new people.

Luckily, the people drafted to fight with them, the clones are also good at fighting fires! It's dangerous many clones will die, but despite having no choice they stand beside the Jedi bravely. The Jedi do everything in their power to protect them. They fight alongside them and try to minimize loss.

There are a few Jedi that get overwhelmed by anger or trauma. They become arsonists themselves, but the number of those that do can be counted on one hand compared to the thousands of Jedi that continue to fight fires.

Sadly, the clones have explosives inside them that Palpatine, the mayor, has the trigger for. Just when it feels like the fire is under control and the people lighting the fires have been stopped, Palpatine sets them off.

Most of the clones are never the same. They think the Jedi had to have set off the bombs inside them, even though they would have never thought them capable of it before. Most never learn the truth. They hate the Jedi for being traitors.

Most of the firefighters die. And their families too. Their children and uncles and aunts and grandparents, and cousins even if they weren't capable of fighting fires they all get burned to death.

The mayor declares it was the firefighters lighting fires and outlaws being a firefighter.

Some of the Jedi survive. Some of them can't bring themselves to fight fires anymore. Some of them keep doing it because it's what they were trained to do. A lot of them are novices who didn't know all the best techniques, but they find their own methods to put out fires and teach others how to do it as well.

And the rebellion begins because when you see fire the logical thing to do is put it out, but all the firefighters are dead or in hiding and being a firefighter is illegal. There's no one to call so the town's people start doing it themselves, inspired by the Jedi.

This becomes extremely important when the mayor makes a device that can light entire cities on fire at the push of a button.

Anyway that's my metaphor and maybe explains my point of view when it comes to the Jedi.

[mona-risms]

◆ MAIN COURSE: Rumi x boxer!gn!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: None

◆ NOTES: Let's fucking try this AGAIN. Bc for some reason Tumblr decided to be a nasty little shit and post my draft HALF AN HOUR AGO when IT WAS CLEARLY SET TO "SAVE DRAFT" and I was fucking EDITING IT. But whatever I'm nonchalant

So when a boxer is found out to be dating someone, it's like. Basically fine. Whatever you have your own life outside of the ring, good for you. But when an IDOL does it, the entire world explodes. Rumi's most definitely always exasperated about this but also she's not really all that bothered--she likes her privacy (or as much privacy as a K-Pop idol can get anyway) AND she def likes seeing a side to you that only she will ever see :3c

You could just easily walk out after training and grab snacks you know that Rumi (and the others, bc ofc you can't just ignore your girlfriend's two closest people) loves to eat before heading back to the penthouse. You even get them their favourite ramyeon cups cuz why not? Maybe you even text her if she wanted you to pick up anything specific and she says that you don't have to! Before quickly following it up with what she actually wants and then like a sticker, probably of herself for comedic effect LMFAO

While you're doing that and making your way to the penthouse, HUNTR/X are doing a vlive. They probably just kinda have it so like they can just drop in and drop out whenever, so maybe while they're doing it together, Rumi gets your message and she smiles before she can even stop it. Ofc the viewers WILL pick it up and they're like "OH????? WHO GOT YOU SMILING LIKE THAT" to which the trio immediately scramble aka Rumi says she saw little turtles on her feed and sets Zoey off on a tangent bc they all know FULL WELL why Rumi's smiling. She probably drops out a little later to go do her own thing (code for texting you on the other side of the room)

And then 😭 you fucking arrive 😭 completely unaware of the stream going on, esp if you have earbuds on for music and stuff 😭. The lift doors open and out you pop, immediately making a beeline for Rumi at the kitchen section to say hi, to give her the bag of snacks you picked up on the way, to lean in so that you can--

"AAAAAAAH TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF--"

"I'M TRYING--"

You and Rumi immediately jump away from each other before the latter ducked down to hide behind the kitchen counter, taking you down with her.

"Shit," you hissed out quietly, "sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"No, no, it's okay," but Rumi winced at herself before continuing, "well, no, not really, but it's not your fault, okay? I probably should've told you we were doing a vlive. Plus this probably means that—" she raised her volume for the other two members "—WE SHOULD PROBABLY CHANGE THE COUCH FORMATION!"

"FINALLY! Thought it'd never turn off."

"BUT THE COUCH HAS SUCH A NICE VIEW!"

You stood back up, helping Rumi up in the process and wrapping your arms around her, "A nice view of me, apparently. Still, I probably screwed you guys over, didn't I?"

"What? Pshh, naaaah," Zoey waved it off haphazardly, "it's totally fine! I bet they didn't even notice and Bobby's not panicking whatsoever!"

Of course, it's followed by Rumi's ringtone, prompting her to pick it up—Bobby—and answer, "Heeeeey, Bobby, how's--"

"GIRLS, I'M PANICKING! EVERYONE SAW RUMI WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND NOW SOCIAL MEDIA IS ON FIRE WITH THEORIES ABOUT RUMI'S LOVE LIFE!" Bobby's very panicked screaming is then immediately snuffed out when he forces himself to stay calm, "It's okay. I'm okay. There's a reason you pay me 3% and I am going to PROVE--"

The call is immediately terminated with a beep when Mira, who you hadn't even realised had walked over to the kitchen island presses the merciful red 'end call' button, her other hand already making its way to grab at a snack in the plastic bag. "Anyway. Don't even worry about it. Best case scenario, they forget about it. Worst case scenario, they storm you and the internet for answers--"

"Not helping, Mira--"

"--but it's not the end of the world. You either just wait for it to blow over or own it," Mira opened the bag of crisps and took one in her mouth, "which I'd obviously say 'screw them' and own it anyway, but I know the fans can get a bit--"

"--wild?"

"--wild, crazy, all of the above." The tallest member moves back to her original spot on the couch, holding out the bag for Zoey to take some too, "Just let Bobby handle it—not like their face was shown clearly anyway. And if someone comes up too close to be weird about it, [Y/N]'s a boxer for a reason."

A small laugh left your lips as Rumi leaned back into your embrace and tilted her head to press a kiss on your face, further making herself comfortable, "I'd rather not have an assault charge on me."

"And I'd rather not have to visit them in jail," Rumi added.

"Hey, your loss."

Oh to make an entire twt AU about this.....unfortunately I'm lazy ay eff and will absolutely forget about it in like a day or two

I pray you have your socmed notifs off or else there's like an entire ONSLAUGHT of posts in every single postable platform. Kpop twt is on fire and even people outside of it are getting involved, there's like debates and fights like 'WHO JUST CAME INTO THE PENTHOUSE THAT'S NOT MANAGER-NIM👹👹👹👹" vs "let them live wtf yall crazy" and honestly it's really funny to read. Even Rumi finds it a little entertaining bc all this fuss just bc you walked into the frame and brought them snacks. Bobby and co. are trying their best but like. The devil works hard but the fandom works harder yk

And the THEORIES. Not just about what relationship you have w Rumi, but what you were gonna do before Mira and Zoey started screaming and who you even are in the first place. There's actual WARS happening about this, and fans are all on a scale from "omg happy for her" and "WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US". This eventually reaches boxing twt somehow and it gets WORSE when they EVENTUALLY profile-match you LOL

Now YOU don't know peace either as you go outside. Suddenly ticket sales for when you're fighting TRIPLE bc everyone wants to see and bombard the mystery stranger with QUESTIONS about what your link with Rumi is. And before this, Rumi probably watched all your matches asw. Now she can't even do that bc of damage control 😓 and Zoey sends you pics of Rumi sulking during practice bc she's missing a match of yours thanks to the stream (that most likely has been clipped more than 20x now)

Eventually she'll end up getting so tired—especially if this is taking place post-demon reveal—of having to distance herself from you for a while thanks to the whole thing that at some point during a concert, imagine tone of their other songs has a segment like the Saki seat or smth

The arena had boomed with shrieks and cheers and HUNTR/X's music as they went through their setlist with deadly precision. Though you came to wonder why you were told to sit in this specific seat when before, you were often just given any other place to watch them from whenever they performed.

You weren't really given a lot of time to wonder, however, when the music gets to a certain part—one you knew required certain audience participation—but you simply cheered your girls on as your girlfriend made her way to--

Wait.

"Wh--"

You don't even get your words out before Rumi pulled you up, the spotlight pointedly following her just like the other two's line of sight, and pulled you in for a VERY public kiss.

"YES!" "Ugh, finally!"

But even their mid-song exclamations could only barely be heard at the deafening screams of the venue around you as the two of you are blatantly displayed on the jumbotron. Though it's not like you care, not at that particular moment, as you pull her closer to deepen the kiss.. before Rumi eventually pushes you back down on the chair lightly. The jumbotron shows your shared breathless state, along with the idol's unrepentant grin amongst slightly-smeared lipstick that stayed even as she jumped for the hoop that swept her away.

..Yeah, there was no denying anything anymore.

By god, you love this girl.

The internet implodes into itself after taht, with people showing recordings and clips of your public kiss. But honestly neither of you probably care atp 🤷‍♀️ at least you two can go out together and cling on each other without it being a huge question mark anymore. If anything she'll def own it—wearing your clothes and hoodies as she's spotted watching your matches and everything HAHAHA

[peariote]

YAAAYYYY OMG TYSM!

okok so could u pls write a mari x f reader?

maybe she's best friends with jackie and shauna and they notice she'd been spending more amd more time with mari or just around her.

reader is 100% in love with mari😔🙏

THANK YOU!

mari x reader pretty gworl !!! love her. absolutely forgot this was finished and in my drafts. so sorry to my mari lovers

The lunch area was already bustling when you got there. Obviously, you’d expected Jackie and Shauna to already have a table. Who else would be there, though? That’s the question.

Sometimes Lottie and Nat filed in, giggly and absorbed in each other in a way that screamed that they had been smoking whatever pot Nat got her hands on. Others, Tai would come to talk to Shauna about English—Van following to talk to Jackie about whatever movie they’d recommended her. But the best days were—

“Mari!” You’re bounding over before you even realize, plopping down next to the familiar head of black hair instead of next to your best friends. Her resulting nose crinkle is only for show; she’s always saving face for the few seconds before she relaxes into your energy.

“Yes, yes, hi. I know, you love me.” Her response is flippant, as expected—but she also hits the nail on the head. And of course, Shauna notices your hitch of breath, subtle as it is.

Her gaze turns to you, suspicious glare firmly planted. All you can do is avoid her gaze, smiling indulgently at something Van quips. The table laughs, and the awkward moment melts away.

The next few weeks, Jackie and Shauna get noticeably more skeptical. You were already aware they were protective—no girl got through to you without their thorough scrutinization. The team, apparently, was no exception.

“So… what’s up with you and Mari?” They’d set it up perfectly—a sleepover, a few beers snuck from Mr. Taylor’s stash, and a the sound of her radio crackling softly with the mixtape’s old tape. It’s probably almost burned through with how much you’ve played it.

You were all sporting a healthy buzz—enough to make Jackie giggly and Shauna slightly sullen—and they’d relaxed you with a quiet activity. Jackie had insisted on painting your nails, pushing you down and making quick work applying the polish. The question comes completely out of left field, and it shows with how you blink owlishly.

“…what?” You’re just a bit caught off guard and a bit too tipsy for this. They grin—well, Jackie does. Shauna returns your wide-eyed gaze with something much more focused.

“You’re into Mari.” Shauna murmurs. She’s not asking you—not in the slightest.

…fuck. You’re caught now. The scrunch of your face tells them all they need to know, but they want to hear it from your lips.

“…yes.” You confirm, careful not to jostle Jackie’s work with your sudden, uncomfortable shift.

All you get, surprisingly, is a hum from the both of them. Despite their apparent acceptance, it settles in your gut like a rock. You’re uneasy—and you’re well within your right to be.

The sleepover, and its resulting uneasiness, has faded in the haze of alcohol and the slow effluxion of time. You’re unassuming when Jackie and Shauna ask you out to the drive in—another girl’s night to see some terrible slasher film. Nothing out of the ordinary.

They both leave you to “get snacks”, as they said, but with the way Jackie giggles and the slow, easy smile spreading across Shauna’s face you wouldn’t be surprised if they were scheming. Or hooking up—you should’ve considered that sooner.

It’s seems to be the first answer.

You’re treated to the sound of muffled yells and ceaseless giggles getting closer—slowly creeping towards you and around the car.

“You bitches—let me go—“

The movie’s snuck into your brain, the sudden thought of a killer swiftly dashed when your idiotic best friends shove Mari into the open trunk of Shauna’s shitty hatchback—the seats folded down for more room.

Then they’re running off, probably to stow away in Lottie’s car. Mari’s yells after them, now without a hand over her mouth.

“Fuck you two!”

It’s enough to make you laugh, her attention swiftly turning to yours. Her acute gaze, burning with anger, directed completely at you is overwhelming enough to bring heat to your cheeks.

“…did they plan this with you, or…” she huffs, settling back against the makeshift wall of pillows and spread of blankets you’d carpeted the car’s trunk with—resigned to her fate.

“No, no.” You confirm through laughter. “They just…”

You pause, lick your lips. Your gaze flickers away, so you don’t notice how she follows it.

“They just know… that I like you.” It’s uncomfortably earnest—hanging between you. In a bid to end break the tension you turn your eyes back to the movie, just in time to see the 12th terribly SFX-ed murder. You don’t get to look long, though.

Mari’s fingers push your jaw, bringing your face back into her eyeline.

“You’re not fucking with me?” She mumbles lowly, focused so intently your cheeks burn.

“No. Not fucking with you.” You respond through a shaky exhale. Your next inhale is interrupted by the press of her lips, the touch swallowing the air from your lungs.

“You should’ve told me that before your cronies kidnapped me.”

“Well, I didn’t know they’d do that.”