#drabbles ༻

[wandaslovey]

mommy!wanda coming home from work one night to find you curled up on the couch watching bluey. that was all she needed to see to know you had a long, hard day full of too many “big girl thoughts.” wordlessly she sets her bag on the counter, heading over to you place on the couch. she pulls you into her lap and you instantly curl up, seeking her comfort as that’s what you crave more than anything else. she holds you firmly against her, pressing her lips against your temple. “hi, my love.”

you make a small sound of acknowledgment somewhere between a whimper and a hum signaling to her you were pretty deep under, that pretty head of yours slowly shutting off. “did my baby have a hard day?” she mumbles against your cheek, planting another kiss there. you pout and nod your head, tilting your head up to look at her. “aww milaya, i’m sorry,” she coos sympathetically, her lips pouting just like yours before she kisses your nose. she begins stroking your hair, guiding your head back to rest in the crook of her neck.

“just let mommy do the thinking for the rest of the night, hmm?”

you were already one step ahead of her as you bring one of her hands to your mouth, sucking a couple of her fingers into your mouth.

and that was answer enough.

———————

photo creds to the amazing @hopelesslygaysstuff 🫶🏻

[elflutter]

— stay at home dad logan | headcanons

shut up don't talk to me im thinking about stay at home dad logan 😩

- logan being a stay at home dad to support your career feminist icon

- logan picking up the kid(s) from school, taking them out to get a little snack or do a fun after school activity before they stop by your office to pick you up

- logan cooking dinner for you and your family, proud little gleam in his eye whenever your eyes roll to the back of your head when you take a bite of a new recipe he learned

- logan taking care of household tasks and your family as a way to protect you

- he never thought he'd be the type to stay home and raise the kids, but he finds a certain masculine pride in making sure you two can relax when you're back from work

- he loves doing home improvement projects, and he's learned your taste in decor perfectly

- you have so many custom shelves and built-ins that fit your home perfectly

- your kid(s) are honestly a little confused about traditional gender roles when they encounter them for the first time at school

- "what do you mean your mom stays home???"

- you and logan teach them that they can do whatever they want, that staying home or having a kickass career or a mix of both, or not having kids at all- every one of these paths has value

- logan gets really invested when you tell him about office drama, though he'd always deny it. still, he nods along interested, occasional humming im agreement or asking a clarifying question, eyes never leaving you as you tell him what happened at work today

- and he definitely has strong opinions on the office drama you share with him. but of course he doesn't really care why simon really got let go oh yes he does

- logan teaches your kid(s) self defense, especially if you have a girl

- girl dad logan deserves its own post tbh

- and if your kid(s) are mutants? oh, he won't let them take shit from anybody. they grow up mutant and proud. they will never, ever deal with the self hatred logan does. they are so loved.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Pretty Saviour

Dick Grayson x Metalhead!Reader

wc: 1.2 K summary: You save Nightwing and Batman one night in a close call, being stuck with Dick forever warnings: fluff, none, no y/n used a/n: (divider), i know that pic is probably overused but i'm still weak for it.

Ever since you‘ve spontaniously patrolled a new route in your neighbourhood and miraciously saved Nightwing and Batman, that blue bird has been attached by your hip. It‘s not like he annoys you, but sometimes you start to prefer the black bat rather than the overly happy-sunshine vigilante.

Like now, talking your ears off about his favourite band he used to listen to in his angsty teenage years. You don‘t interrupt him, not wanting to make him feel bad about getting some small facts wrong since that band is the most mainstream rock band you have ever seen and heard.

To avoid his constant yapping, you‘ve tried to change your patrol route completely, but it‘s no use. He always finds you and claims it‘s just ‚a lucky coincidence‘.

In reality, Dick has been completely smitten over you from the moment he saw you effortlessly take down several men in front of him who were about to kick his ass. You saved Batman‘s ass too, but he refuses to acknowledge either that fact or you.

Eventually, he continues to talk on and on about that super-cool and ultra-heavy band, really just making you smirk in amusement. There is no need for music at work when you have a walking podcast following you around and helping you take down muggers together with insanely impressive acrobatic skills. You still wonder how his bones move like that, because there‘s no way a normal human being is capable of the same things he does.

But he is just as amazed by you at the same time, always staring as subtly as he can, wanting to take in every detail of your unique suit and accessories you wear with it. Yes, he never saw your face before, but he is in love. It‘s gotten to that point where even Alfred awaits you for dinner any day.

At the moment, he is crouching down beside you at the edge of the rooftop, keeping watch over a troublesome area in this part of the neighbourhood. He glances at you every so often, finally catching a glimpse of your ear under your shagged hair. Dick keeps his eyes on the shiny piercings, eyes widening once he spots the stretched earlobe. It‘s not much, but adds an even extremer look to everything else.

»Woah, you have stretched ears?«

You share a glance at him, tucking some hair behind your ear for him to see better.

»Just noticed?«

He gives you a goofy smile in return and reaches up to lightly touch it, admiring the plug you have in it. It‘s shiny in the moonlight, seeing the spiral design on it. Dick smiles softly at it, keeping his eyes on you while poking it gently.

»Cool.«

He sounds like an amazed child who sees the ninja turtles for the first time. It‘s amusing and also flattering to know that someone as big and strong thinks you are cool.

The patrols always have some kind of routine between the two of you. You both take a break at some point, making him discover another small detail about you and asking questions for the rest of the few hours. He has also learnt about the bands you listen to from your various pins and patches on your vest, listening to some of their songs once he gets back home. Just to expand his music taste and playlist, of course.

But he won‘t lie; he loves every single detail and fact about you, likes how casual you are when explaining new stuff to him, or gets into your element if he luckily asks you about an interesting topic. Like, the evolution of the emo and metal scene throughout the years. It‘s as if you get even more passionate talking about those than beating and locking up criminals.

Dick has learned a lot from you already, considering himself an expert at this point because of how detailed you explain certain topics and bands to him. Even his brothers know some stuff about certain bands because he can‘t stop talking about you around them. Every time you aren‘t around, he misses you a lot more than he‘d like. It‘s a shame you haven‘t exchanged any kind of socials or numbers because of your safety. This is one thing he is starting to hate every day more and more about you. The fact that he can‘t contact you in any way is humiliatingly sad.

And every once in a while, he gets you small gifts. Such as new pins of that one band you once mentioned to him, new ear plugs with a cool design, and silly stickers he knows you‘ll like.

You have a total of fifteen pins, four pairs of new gauges for your ears, and an endless amount of stickers because they‘re too easy to find. All from Dick, from the past month.

These gifts and the way he always listens and remembers details about your interests make you fall harder and harder for him. At first, you didn‘t really see the appeal of him. But now, hanging out with him unwillingly, has shown you just how cute and attentive he really is. You even got him a shirt of his own favourite band one day, and it seemed like he would drop down to one knee and propose at any moment. But he held himself back, he still has some self-control after all.

Once he noticed the new style in your hair, he really tried to think of ways on how to impress you in more ways than knowledge. He tried to convince Alfred to dye his hair blue, or at least get some stripes into it, but he refused, saying he shouldn‘t make impulsive decisions like that. But once Dick mentioned it‘s because you got these silly stripes and racoon tails in your hair, he teased him for the rest of the evening of his painfully obvious crush.

»I just like their style!«

»That‘s what you have been telling us for the past three months.«

And it went on with Dick showing you endless tricks and athletics, explaining the theory of each move and how to not break your neck while doing so. You are impressed by his skills, it feels like being children again, showing each other what cool stuff you know and are able to do, getting still impressed by the easiest and normal stuff.

You both go on bike rides together from time to time, competing sometimes as well. He is able to do wheelies, but that‘s a little too dangerous for you to copy.

Eventually, your friendship got really close after those three months of patrolling together and sharing knowledge with each other, of Dick making a fool of himself just to impress you in some way, and endless small gifts.

Despite everything, you‘re trying to keep it professional with him some way. But it doesn‘t help when he is using every single opportunity to touch or stay close to you. It‘s not like you are complaining, you secretly enjoy him being more touchy and sweet to you. You mostly mask it with being playful and pretending to not get the subtle hints he is dropping at you.

There‘s still some sort of trust you have to gain from him in order for you to reveal your identity to him, even when he is smart enough to find it out himself. But he won‘t do it, both in respect towards you and in hopes you will actually trust him enough some time to reveal yourself.

←MASTERLIST

a/n: an open ending, how original. anyway, hope you enjoyed it!!

[thezeninclan]

home to her | nanami kento x reader

kento swallows hard, and when he meets your gaze from across the kotatsu you can see that he looks as though he desperately desires to say something, but is trying hard to force it down. your brows furrow, the heat rising to his face having nothing to do with the warmth of the heater, and your hand lays upon the gift he had pushed across the table towards you. it wasn’t your birthday, wasn’t your anniversary, so the gift had come as a great surprise, despite the practiced nonchalance kento had shown when he whisked it from his satchel and laid it upon the table.

“a gift?” you asked, cheeks flushed with happiness. 

it wasn’t unusual for kento to return home at random with gifts for you, a bouquet of fresh cut lilies, a brand new journal, a sweet smelling candle. but you could tell from the way he presented it that this was something different, something new.  

your chest felt heavy and full, your body so light that for a moment you feared you might simply fly away, if it wasn’t for the wrapped parcel keeping you tethered. nanami nodded tersely, watching as you fingered the navy ribbon as your hands worked at the wrapped paper. 

you startled as the box came into view, the familiar hinged style telling you at once it was jewelry. 

you bit the bottom of your lip, hands nearly shaking as you opened the jewelry box and came face to face with what lay inside. it was a hammered chain-linked necklace, thin and fine, the color silvery-gold, so bright that it nearly glittered in the soft lamp light of the shared living room. your fingertips paused on their exploratory journey across the metal, feeling the heat of his gaze on the top of your head, and you looked up at him. “it’s beautiful.” you breathed, in awe and delight. he looks away from you, a splatter of pink painted across his cheeks that made him look unbearably endearing. but still he said nothing, looking down at his feet and frowning deeply enough to accentuates the sunken lines on his cheeks. 

you frowned, pushing yourself across the tatami to sit at his side. he had given you a gift, surely this must be a pleasant occasion— so why did he look so pained? 

you folded your legs neatly beneath you and placed your hand gently against his firm thigh in a silent gesture of affirmation, finally making him lift his head. kento sighed, long and deep, before lifting an arm and wrapping it around your shoulders, squeezing you against his side. you felt so at ease, so at peace— with your arms around his waist, his warm body pressed against yours, a big hand hand coming to rest upon the top of your head so he could gently stroke at your hair. 

“it’s-” he begins and you turn to look up at him through those big bright eyes he loves so much. he gestures to himself, his long fingers pressing to his blue striped shirt. you wanted them pressing against you. “to me it means...” he trails off again. it’s unusual to see him so at a loss for words, so completely out of his depth, and it just makes you cling to him further. “if you put it on then you shouldn’t...well, what I mean is that you shouldn’t—” 

you realize in a breath what he’s trying to say, the way his fingers have risen to his chest and pulled the collar of his shirt just slightly apart so that you can see a triangle of his bare chest. from the moment you had set your eyes upon him you had noticed something a miss, something unusual— but you hadn’t been able to place it until this moment, until you had caught sight of his naked throat. the chain he usually wore was gone, disappeared from its usual place resting upon his chest to reappear at your fingers. in the time you had known him he had never been without the golden necklace. when he slept he wore nothing but a pair of soft sleep pants and the golden chain, when he bathed or swam at the heated pool at the gym he did not remove it. even when he worked, he wore the chain beneath the lapels of his dark blue long sleeve. you knew how much it meant to him, so to see him without it, to see him gift it to you.    

“I won’t take it off.” you said, interrupting him gently by placing a hand on his. 

you entwined your fingers with his, feeling the calluses and rough skin from so many years of hard work. his eyes were firm as they met yours, unwavering, and yet there was a softness there that made you continue. 

“It means the same thing to me.” you promised, hoping your eyes spoke the words you mouth couldn’t. you knew the weight of the gesture, knew what it meant to him to have gifted that collar to you. “I won’t take it off, kento.” he loved the way you said his name, like a prayer, like a song, whose words only you knew.

the chain felt cool upon your skin as he laid it around your throat, fingers tickling the back of your neck as he did up the clasp. it felt heavy, solid, the same comfort as a weighted blanket orr a warm cup of tea on an icy day. his fingers lingered, sliding down the curve of your spine to the small of your back, the heat of his skin making you shiver. a hand rose to your neck, resting over the golden chain, the other cupping his cheek. your thumb brushed across his bottom lip, the preamble to a kiss that made a frisson of warmth burst through your body. 

“I love you.” you whispered back, kissing kissing kissing him. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” he whispered, and you knew he meant it, the intensity of his voice, the closeness of his lips against yours, the way he cradled your body against him, like you were something precious, something cherished.

also posted on ao3

[bridgyrose]

Weiss assumes everyone has ridden a horse/pony before... only to find that the only person who doesn't fall off in the first five minutes is Jaune.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun,” Weiss said as she walked her friends over to the corral with a smile on her face. “This is going to be a nice and relaxing day to take our minds off finals.” 

“And how, exactly, is horseback riding relaxing?” Yang asked. 

Weiss stopped at the gate and looked back at her friends. “Why wouldnt it be relaxing?” 

“Because its an animal that can potentially break our necks?” Jaune asked more than he said. “I dont know if this is a good idea.” 

“You have nothing to worry about.” Weiss opened the gate and took the reins of one of the horses. “Its easy enough to ride them and these horses have been trained to let people on them. Plus, there’s ranch hands at the ready in case anything spooks the horses. Everything about this today is going to be safe.” 

Nora walked over to one of the horses. “If Weiss says its easy, how hard could it be?” 

Weiss nodded and watched as Nora got up onto the horse… and then slipped off when she couldnt get her footing in the stirrups. With a heavy sigh, she walked over and helped Nora get steady before taking a few steps to let Nora try to get the horse moving. Then, she watched as the others tried their hands. Blake seemed to get up the easiest, but couldnt seem to stay steady once the horse started moving. Ren and Pyrrha struggled with getting up onto it, Pyrrha worried about hurting it and Ren unable to keep his balance. Even Ruby and Yang, the two she would’ve expected to ride a horse easily, struggled to get onto their horses correctly or even to stay on while the horses were moving. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, this is going to be harder than I thought…” 

“Not our faults that we’ve never ridden a horse before,” Ruby said as she held her horse by the neck to keep stable. “Some of us have only watched it in shows or movies.” 

“It shouldnt be *that* hard to ride a horse.” 

“Its not, but sometimes it takes a bit for people to really learn how to do it,” Jaune said. 

Weiss looked over at him, expecting for him to be falling off, only to be surprised to see that he seemed to be the only one of her friends that was capable of riding a horse. Even as he brought the horse to a quick trot, he seemed to hold on fine and almost professionally as he kept himself up right and gentle with the horse. “Where… where did you learn to ride like that?” 

Jaune brought the horse to a stop next to Pyrrha and got off to help her up. “My parents had a friend who owned horses and would ask us to help take care of them. Riding lessons were put up as payment, so my sisters and I all learned how to ride a horse.” 

“I guess that makes sense.” Weiss watched her team continue to struggle with their own horses and started to make her way towards them. “You want to help your team while I help mine?” 

Jaune nodded. “Sure thing.” 

Weiss paused for a moment as she watched Jaune make his horse trot over to Nora. It was almost too easy to envision him as a knight from the romance novels she read, a blush crossing her cheeks when she thought about it. If he were to bulk up and get a set of armor that fit him-

“W-Weiss!” Ruby called out from hanging under her horse. “A-a little help?” 

Weiss shook her head as she was pulled out of her own thoughts and started to make her way over. “How did you do that?” 

“I tried to get on and I dont think I set the saddle on quite right.” 

“Its not that hard. Just drop to the ground and we’ll set it right.” 

“I dont think I-” Ruby winced as she dropped on the ground. “Nevermind!” 

Weiss pinched the bridge of her and took a deep breath. “This will be a relaxing day… as soon as I teach them how to stay on their horses correctly.”

[xxlady-lunaxx]

giyuu has always been more of an addiction to sanemi. something he couldn’t get rid of, couldn’t stop thinking of. it wasn’t love, was it? ha, not that. no way. call it situationship, call it relationship. it wasn’t that he didn’t… like giyuu, no. he did. but it wasn’t necessarily like-like. it wasn’t love. not at that level, not yet.

but then he looked at giyuu, at the pretty blue eyes and his solemn face, kisses his the lips ridden with anxious bite marks that did little to ruin the experience. and then he though that maybe, just now, it was love. he might be in love. maybe it was love.

[stellayuta]

Racing Hearts! - F1 Driver! Gojo Satoru (A LOTG spinoff)

synopsis: Ferrari sensation Gojo Satoru dominates headlines and social media with his unmatched driving prowess and intriguing personal life. Yet, beneath the surface, Gojo harbors a secret that could shake up the F1 world. An unrelenting F1 journalist, determined to unearth the truth, becomes his unexpected adversary—one who might finally expose the enigma that is Gojo Satoru.

content: formula one x jujutsu kaisen, eventual enemies to lovers, angst, themes of isolation, mental health themes, swearing

author's note: I've decided that we all deserve F1 Gojo as much as we deserved F1 Yuta. Hope the jjk and formula one fans enjoy this. This will be much more drama packed than LOTG. Keep following along!

word count: 2k

When the strongest roars across the asphalt, the crowd sees burning red

-

Satoru Gojo lounges lazily on his plush, red velvet, king-sized bed, eyeing his mail with curiosity. He holds a dainty pink envelope up to the light, squinting to make out the words through the paper screen. Carefully, he tears it open, revealing a letter and a photograph: a glossy snapshot of one of his closest friends and fellow drivers, Yuta Okkotsu. Yuta, dressed in a sleek, emerald tuxedo, is smiling dreamily at his fiancée, who is cradled in his arms in a princess carry. They look good, Gojo thinks. Yuta has regained his glow over the past year; in fact, he seems to have put on a few pounds of healthy weight.

Gojo fishes out the letter next. Dyed a flowery shade of baby pink similar to the envelope and stamped with red words, it reads: We are getting married, and you are invited!

Bummer. He was 99.9% sure he'd be asked to officiate. But alas.

He shakes his head comically as he reads further.

"Kindly do not bring any gifts, only your blessings. If you feel like gifting something, please donate to a charity of your choice!"

Tacky much. If he were in their place, he definitely would have asked for extravagant gifts. But given how Yuta's brain works and how much his fiancée mirrors him, Gojo isn't surprised in the slightest.

What does surprise him though is the last line in the letter, highlighting the best man and the maid of honor. The best man isn't his mates from his early racing days, Geto or Gojo. But Inumaki...

"Seriously, Okkotsu?" Gojo gawks at the letter dramatically and then shoves it away from him. Must be nice. To have a small circuit of friends, a good team, a hot fiancée, a quiet, successful life.

Must be nice.

He skeptically eyes the collection of trophies that decorate the wall opposite to his bed. Some golds from Melbourne, Suzuka, Sao Paolo, Silverstone. A few silvers and bronzes from the American and Asian legs. No driver's championship yet.

Gojo joined Ferrari at just 20 years old as their golden boy, and now, after eight years with the team, he had experienced many successful runs—but never a victory. He had finished second six times until Okkotsu entered the scene and began dominating the field, pushing him to third in the championship standings. Despite his outwardly charismatic and confident persona, the pressure of failing to deliver Ferrari their long-awaited win gnawed at him like a thousand needles.

The prince of Ferrari was yet to become their king. But perhaps, the prince will never grow up enough to be a king.

He tries to shoo the depressing thoughts away. There is no time for depression during the long-awaited summer break.

He needed to get out of the house, that would do the trick.

Gojo swings his legs out of bed, stretching lazily as his bare feet sink into the soft, imported carpet beneath him. His house, perched on a hill overlooking the sparkling Mediterranean Sea, is a gleaming example of his lavish lifestyle in Monaco. The sleek, modern architecture—glass walls, sharp lines, and white stone—gives it a futuristic edge. Even the driveway has an air of luxury, with its tasteful selection of Italian sports cars parked under the evening sun.

The dusk is warm, the salty breeze from the sea cutting through the air, ruffling his silver hair and putting on his sunglasses as he steps out of the front door.

*ka-chick*

"Huh?" Gojo's ears perk up and he looks around to see where the sound came from. Usually, paparazzi hunt their prey in a herd. They are easily recognizable by their incessant catcalling, comments and the barrage of flash noise. Maybe this was a newbie or a paparazzo gone rogue. Gojo shrugs, strikes a pose or two for this invisible photographer and continues on his merry way.

He isn't in the mood for the clubs or the cabarets today. He mostly certainly would prefer a quiet, inconspicuous bar though. He is not much of a drinker, hell he won't even drink the champagne he pops on the podium - but a bar is a perfect place to be incognito. The dim ambience and drunk people - no one would notice him.

He almost passes a shoddy looking establishment and decides to enter it. To his massive relief, it is rather empty. There a blue LEDs lining the bar counter and the ceiling. There's about two couples snogging in the dark corners of the bar and a few lone souls scattered about, too drunk in their sorrows and the alcohol to look up.

So, it's that kind of place. It might be poetic for him to be there, satoru thinks.

Gojo settles into a dimly lit corner of the bar, reclining into the worn leather booth with a relaxed yet cynical smirk. His sunglasses, still perched on his nose despite the low light, reflect the faint blue glow from the LED strips. It’s not a place one would expect to find a Formula 1 superstar like him, and that’s exactly why he’s here. Tonight, he just wants to vanish.

He signals for the bartender, a gruff-looking man with a thick beard and tired eyes. “Vodka, neat,” Gojo says, voice low and lazy. The bartender nods and moves without a word, leaving Gojo to his thoughts.

As he waits, his mind circles back to Yuta. That damn wedding invitation. It shouldn’t bother him, but it does. Yuta Okkotsu—once the rookie he used to coach on the finer points of track politics—had come into his own. Not only was he dominating on the track, but now he was settling down, tying the knot, living the kind of balanced life that Gojo had never allowed himself to dream of. Gojo could dominate in any social setting, but in his private moments, he always felt like something was missing—like he was playing a role, never truly himself.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Gojo pulls it out, half-expecting spam but instead, it’s a message from an unexpected friend.

Geto Suguru: Get the invite yet?

Gojo satoru: Sure did. Gonna go?

Geto Suguru: Well, of course. Won't you?

Gojo Satoru: I'm having second thoughts. After he picked Inumaki as his best man. What speech is Inumaki even going to give, I swear I've never heard him speak!

As Gojo waits for a reply, the bartender slides him a stout glass full of clear liquid, reeking of spirit. Gojo takes a small sip that burns his palate and throat. He never drinks, what was he thinking.

He tries savoring the bitter aftertaste and the buzz hitting his brain as he sees the shadows on his tables shift.

He looks up from under his sunglasses and stares at you who is blocking the light from reaching his table completely. His eyes narrow as he tries to make out your features through the dim, blue-lit haze of the bar. It takes him a second to register who it is, but when he does, his expression lights up, though the usual cocky grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Well, well, well..." He sings. "Look who's here."

You don't reply back and take a seat across him. The leather on your seat is cracking and reeks of smoke. Could Gojo have not picked a better place to sulk in.

His eyes crinkle at their edges as you notice a slight shift in his expression. He appears to be pitying you.

"Out for my blood again, you leech?" he asks flatly, taking another sip of his drink. You don't recall him being a drinker from your years worth of notes.

"There are better things to drink." you reply, matching his tone as the bartender appears at the table again.

"Ah, miss, anything for you?"

"A bloody mary, please."

"On your tab right, sir?" the bartender looks at Gojo.

"Hell to the NO!" He snaps. "Put her drink on her tab!"

The bartender grimaces at Gojo and leaves, mumbling.

"They'll think you're a monster. Couldn't even pay for his woman's drink?" You prod Gojo, trying to make him break.

"As if anyone would ever think I'd be dating you. Don't embarrass yourself. What do you want from me now?" Gojo demands, crossing his arms against his chest after removing his sunglasses. His piercing blue eyes refuse to look away from you.

"The people need to know... I need to do my job." you state.

"They know enough. They don't need to know any more."

You quickly bring out a notepad, a recorder and press record on it.

"Any comments regarding rumors surrounding your transfer?"

At that moment, you witness the color leaves Gojo's face.

"W-What transfer? I am unsure what you're insinuating here."

"The rumor mill says you will be leaving Ferrari soon due to unsatisfactory performance and unreasonable team strategy. I'll quote you, please say something."

"You can't put those words in my mouth, all of that is-"

Gojo clears his throat and realizes he's now screaming, almost upright on his chair. He sits back to down.

"I am dedicated to Ferrari and their mission to win for this rest of 2024. That's all. Thank you."

You swiftly stop recording and lean over the table.

"So, what after 2024?"

"It's none of your business."

"I told you... this is my job."

"Y/N." His voice softens. "It's been nearly 7 years now. Can you not find any other driver to stalk?"

"I'm fine even if you report about my personal life." He continues. "That's less stressful than all of this."

Gojo's eyes, once sharp with irritation, soften as he leans back in his chair. His posture relaxes slightly, though his fingers still tap impatiently against the glass in his hand. The tension in the air between the two of you is palpable—years of history, unresolved tension, and unspoken words that neither of you have ever truly addressed. His last remark lingers in the dim light of the bar.

“Seven years, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “And yet, here we are. You, still the untouchable star, and me, still chasing after the story that no one else can seem to tell.”

Gojo chuckles, though it lacks the usual arrogance. “Untouchable star? More like a dimming one. I can see it in your eyes. You think this is it for me, don’t you? That I’m washed up. A wasted talent. You can write about all that.”

You don’t reply immediately, watching him instead. The Gojo sitting across from you is different from the man you first met seven years ago. He was all fire and flash back then, burning too bright to let anyone close. But now, the cracks in the façade are starting to show. The endless pressure, the failure to deliver Ferrari’s long-awaited championship, and the gnawing sense of inadequacy have worn him down, whether he admits it or not.

“I don’t think you’re washed up,” you finally say, leaning back in your seat. “But I do think you’re scared.”

His blue eyes narrow slightly, the playful glint fading. “Scared? Of what?”

“Of what happens if you’re not the Satoru Gojo anymore. Of what happens when the lights go out, and the fans move on to the next rising star. What happens when you’re not Ferrari’s golden boy anymore?”

Gojo is speechless for a second after which he downs the remnants of his Vodka.

"I will resign before that happens." he declares.

"And you-" He gets up finally, covering the distance between you and him in a single stride, grabbing your jaw as he looks down at you.

"Move the hell on. It's been seven years. Get a life."

And with that, he pays for both of your drinks, takes his leave - the bar door chiming as it swings shut behind him.

"You are wrong Satoru." you whisper to yourself, letting go of the breath you were holding.

"Seven years. I have waited seven years for this."

You shimmy out your laptop from your bag and prop it open on the table. Quite a few curious eyes turn to see you.

*email sent!*

To be continued.....

[yaniiiiism]

just fine. -h.hj ? l.mh // chapter vi

chapter vi <3 if you haven't, be sure to read the previous chapters before reading this!

previous ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི next !

☆┆pairing : hwang hyunjin / lee minho x fem!reader ͏ ☆┆ info : sadfic , a LOT of angst , melancholy , drama , feelings , mature themes , suggestive , bsfs , one sided. ͏ ☆┆ personas: uni students ; dancers ; bsf hyunjin does art and dance, bsf reader does dance and songwriting, minho dances.͏͏ ☆┆ word count : 1.3k ☆┆warnings : hyune's a bit of an ass in the fic.. + sad.

may not be best friends -> lovers <3

The soft thump of the bass reverberated through the university’s empty dance studio, mingling with the gentle rustle of fabric of Minho’s clothing, as he practised a new routine. He moved like liquid shadow across the polished wood of the studio, his steps soft yet precise, a dance that carried the weight of years spent in pursuit of perfection. 

The dim lighting spilled across his figure, tracing the sharp edges of his shoulders, the curve of his spine as he dipped low, before rising again with a fluid grace that seemed almost effortless. His hair clung to his forehead, damp from the intensity of his practice, while his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, echoing the beat of the music. 

Every motion felt like a story unfolding — a conversation between his body and the silence surrounding him, punctuated only by the subtle squeak of his shoes against the floor.

In the middle of his routine, the door creaked open slightly, all unbeknownst to him.

She stood hesitantly by the entrance, a bag slung over one shoulder, over the thin straps of her black camisole-tank top, her grey sweater hanging loosely over her elbows as she watched his figure move in perfect accordance to the beats of the song playing on the loud stereo. ‘My House’, by 2PM, boosted high, the harmonies reverberating through the rest-silent studio.

Earlier that day, having bumped into Jeongin and Seungmin, in the university’s dorm buildings, they’d told her that he’d been at the dance studio, like he usually did every day, especially on the weekend. 

Hyunjin was out somewhere with the others of the friend group, so she hadn’t seen him at all. She could only thank the universe enough – she couldn’t face him today, not after yesterday night.

Memories of yesterday’s party flooded her mind, the couch, the balcony. The warmth of Minho’s hands, easing her cold ones.

So, she found herself walking idly across the slightly empty halls of the university building, to the studio, finally leaning against the doorframe of the studio.

But it didn’t take him long to notice her figure’s reflection over the studio’s large mirrors, each beam of light bouncing off of her body, a seeming aura of white light engulfing her presence. 

His heart skipped a beat, but he played it cool, his steps gradually slowing until he stopped completely and turned toward her.

His eyes met hers as he turned around, and a small, warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He didn’t say anything at first, letting the music fade out as he walked to the stereo and turned it off, leaving the room in a comfortable, shared silence. 

“Hey,” he said, quick, his voice soft and welcoming, as though her presence was the calm he needed after his intense practice. “Didn’t think I’d have company today.”

She smiled a little, pushing herself off the doorframe and stepping further into the room. “Jeongin said you’d be here,” she said, her voice equally quiet, as if the walls of the studio demanded peace. “Thought I’d stop by.”

Minho nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel slung over his shoulder, before chugging down water from his bottle, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the action.

The brunette’s eyes followed the steady rise and fall of his throat as he drank, the soft click of the water bottle capping echoing in the now-silent studio. She hadn’t realised how much she’d needed the calm — away from the swirling thoughts of Hyunjin, and the restless ache in her chest that had become almost constant. 

Here, with Minho, there was none of that. Just a sense of ease she hadn't felt in days.

Then his eyes met hers once again, and he tossed the towel onto a nearby bench, stepping closer to her. “So,” he began, his tone casual but a trace of something more flickering beneath his words. “Did you come here to dance, or just to watch me suffer through practice?”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “A bit of both, maybe.”

Minho’s lips quirked into a grin, and he held out a hand to her. “Come on then, let's dance. It'll take your mind off things.” There was no question in his voice, no pressuring, just a gentle invitation.

She hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in his eyes pushed her forward. She dropped her bag near the wall and slipped out of her loose sweater, leaving her in the black camisole she wore beneath. The cool air of the studio brushed against her bare skin as she approached the centre of the studio beside him.

“You know the routine?”

“I’ve seen you do it a few times with Hyunjin. Think I remember most of it.” 

At the mention of Hyunjin, his expression softened, but he didn’t linger on it. He simply nodded and positioned himself beside her. “Oh, the lady came prepared, I see?”

—

Minho was good — so good that she couldn’t help but lose herself in the dance, the steady beat of the music guiding her feet as she spun, dipped, and twisted beside him. His presence felt grounding, his movements powerful but effortless, a perfect balance to her lighter, more fluid style.

And despite the intensity of the dance, there was something playful in the air. Every so often, he would catch her eye, a teasing smile playing on his lips, as if silently challenging her to keep up. She rose to the challenge, her competitive streak kicking in, matching his energy move for move.

After a particularly sharp turn, she stumbled, her foot slipping slightly on the polished wood. Before she could fall, an arm shot out, steadying her, his hand wrapping around her wrist, warm and firm.

“Careful,” he said, his breath slightly laboured from the dance. His voice, though, was soft, a smile lingering in his words.

She laughed, the sound light and genuine, feeling the tension she’d carried all day melt away in the warmth of the moment. “Thanks,” she said, her own breath coming in short bursts as she caught her balance. 

She didn’t pull away, though, letting his hand linger on her wrist a moment longer.

“You’re good,” Minho said, his voice lower now as the song came to an end. His eyes, dark and soft, held hers. “You always were.”

There was a weight to his words, an unspoken layer beneath the compliment that made her heart skip. She felt a strange warmth bloom in her chest — different from the pang of longing she felt with Hyunjin. This was quieter, softer, but just as real.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to where his hand still held hers. She slowly pulled back, feeling her cheeks heat up under his stare.

He grinned softly, stepping back as well, giving her space. “You wanna go again?” he asked, but his voice was lighter now, teasing.

She smiled, but nodded. “Definitely,” she said, breathless. “You don’t tire easily, do you?”

He laughed, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Years of practice,” he replied, his tone casual again. But then his eyes softened, and he added, “But, I’m glad you came. It’s... nice to have you here.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in them. She hadn’t expected to feel this way around Minho — hadn’t expected the comfort, the ease, or the way her thoughts seemed to quiet in his presence. It was a stark contrast to the constant storm she felt when thinking of Hyunjin.

“Thanks for letting me join you,” she said quietly, her voice soft. “I needed this. More than I realised.”

Minho’s smile was warm, his gaze steady as he looked at her. “Anytime,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a tenderness in the way he spoke, like he meant it. Like he’d always be there.

For a moment, she let herself believe it.

That maybe, in this quiet studio, away from everything else, there was something here — something that didn’t hurt, didn’t ache.

Maybe Minho had been right all along.

Maybe Hyunjin wasn’t the one she needed to be chasing after.

a/n ♡︎

HEIIILLLOOOOO YES JUST FINE CHP6 AFTER A LONG TIME (i was desperate) TYSM FOR ALL THE LOVE FOR THIS SERIES !! now i think yall know where the series is heading to.. minho x yn or hyune x yn?? also? i js realised mixtape on track mv RLY matches to the ff. I SWEAR i did not intend on matching it but hyunho + angst + love traingle = LOVE LOVE LOVEEEE ill try to update and post when i can, pls be patient !! late lix day ff is half way done!!

made another spam acc for skz @loveforseung ALSO I HAVE AO3 NOW !! user's same as @loveforseung go follow !! also making a masterlist for all of my posts, plz lmk if u wanna be a part of it ! <3 have a good day ~ – love, yani ♥︎

taglist ☆

@babybreadddd

@hyunetopia

@skzfelixlove

@seashellsjun

@dreamy-minnie

@tsunderelino

@cokokrem01

thank you so much for enjoying this <3

[greeniegaes]

These people keep getting gayer and gayer, I should honestly make them the actual ship so the angst is worse

[dellephone]

hair + choscar

When Lando offered to send Oscar his hairstylist’s number, he didn’t think about it. He agreed because why wouldn’t he. He’s new to Monaco, needs a new hairstylist, and Lando obviously cares about his own hair, so he knows he’ll be in good hands.

Except his hands are, um, more distracting than he expected. It’s a little hard to focus on what he’s asking when his hands are running through Oscar’s hair like that. When they still, Oscar meets his gaze in the mirror, realizes he asked him a question. He takes a guess, “Uh, I don’t know. Just— shorter I guess.”

The hairdresser, he thinks his name was Charles, hums, runs his hand through Oscar’s hair once more, and seems to come to a decision.

He chats to Oscar while cutting his hair, though he does stay focused on his task, only glancing toward Oscar’s eyes every once in a while. The questions he asks are mundane, how long he’s been in the city, whether he has any pets, if he has a partner. Which, may or may not make Oscar’s heart skip a beat, despite Charles keeping his eyes firmly on his scissors. And anyway, he doesn’t offer that information back, moves on to the next question too quickly for Oscar to ask.

By the time the appointment is over, Oscar thinks he’s gotten used to Charles’ attention on him. At least until he steps to the side, brushes the hair off his shoulders, and lets Oscar take a look in the mirror. “What do you think? Looks good, no?” Confidant, a proud smile on his face.

“Uh, yeah, it looks great.” Oscar brushes the hair across his forehead with the tips of his fingers and pretends he doesn’t notice his face getting warm. He stands, walks with Charles to the front, lets himself be convinced into booking a new appointment in a few months. And when Lando compliments his hair and asks how the appointment went, he’ll pretend he isn’t thinking of a certain hairdresser’s dimples and the proud smile that was directed at him.

[riisume]

Lee!Maeve Drabble

MINORS DNI

Maeve normally has an air of toughness and confidence. Maybe she intimidates some people even.

But then a couple of gentle, teasing kneads to her abs or sides reveals a more vulnerable, cute side to her..!

A soft gasp, a quiet giggle, she shrinks away from your mischievous fingers. The preciously nervous look on her face is fleeting as her expression contorts into one of annoyance.

She asks you, “Wh-what the fuck! Don’t do that again!”

But you can’t help yourself…

You reach out again and she’s caught off guard once more as your fingers press into her tender abdomen.

It returns; That shy, girlish giggle. That sheepish smile. Her eyes squeezed shut and ears pinned back as if she’s bracing for more…

You’re mesmerized with how just a few gentle touches can coax these adorable reactions from such a sturdy, tough woman.

Your trance is interrupted as she grabs your wrist, glaring daggers at you.

She speaks once again, “You reeeally should’ve listened to me… I guess Mama Maeve needs to put you back in your place…~”

Her fingers on her free hand are poised like claws, right where you can see them and a smug, vengeful smile settled on her lips.

You swallow nervously.

Oops! Maybe you shouldn’t have poked the bear…!!!

[silvercap]

⚫️ <- close as I could get sjdbd. A CONTINUTION OF THE NIVANNEDY POISONING ONE PERHAPS?! 👉👈

Sure!!!! (Prompts)

Part 1 Part 2

⬤: being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey

The flight from the BSAA base in South America takes over twelve hours, including a layover, enough time to read a full novel or watch a marathon of movies.

Piers does none of those things. Chris keeps shooting him looks as he stares blankly at the screen attached to the back of the economy seat in front of him, his knee jogging anxiously as he fights the urge to check his phone for the millionth time, the voicemail from Ingrid Hunnigan saying that his fiancé had almost died of an attempted poisoning ringing in his ears. She'd said he was stable, but all Piers can picture is the worst, images of Leon sick and dying in an ICU bed tormenting him every time he closes his eyes. What if he deterioirates before Piers has a chance to get there? He's letting his thoughts get away from him, he knows, but it's hard when he can't even focus on anything but how much longer the flight will take.

The entire trip through the airport happens in a haze of sleep deprivation with Chris at his elbow, guiding him towards the doors with murmured words that never really register in Piers' mind. He finds himself in a taxi, somehow, and then he's pulling up to the DSO hospital a block from their headquarters, practically throwing his change at the driver before he rushes for the reception desk with a sort of strangled politeness undermined by the adrenaline thrumming in his veins. He hadn't taken the time to unwind properly after the mission, which is probably why he bursts into Leon's room panting and panicked, skidding to a halt and wildly taking in the scene in front of him with an appraisal he'd usually save for the battlefield.

Leon looks up from the tray of hospital food tucked over his lap, spoon in hand where he's started with the pudding instead of his actual meal, blinking in surprise. He's pale, Piers recognizes frantically, but strong enough that he's sitting upright on his own, relief drawing skittering claws down Piers' back at the delicate smile that quirks at Leon's lips.

"Hi," he says happily.

At his bedside, Ingrid Hunnigan turns to look at Piers. Whatever she sees makes her stand with a knowing tilt of her head, gesturing towards the chair as Piers' knees unlock and he stumbles toward the bed where Leon is grinning up at him with an adoring expression. His eyes are glassy up close, cheeks shiny with the medical tape holding his oxygen cannula in place, but he sets down the spoon and pushes the tray to the side with convincingly sober dexterity.

"Baby," Piers says desperately, and then Leon is filling his arms, solid and warm and trembling. He clutches Leon tight to his chest, stroking over his hair with a sob. "Sweetheart, I'm here. I'm here. Are you--are you okay?"

He pulls back slightly enough to hold Leon up by the shoulders, who's hazy expression has turned to one of concern. He reaches up a slender hand to brush wonderingly at the tears on Piers' cheek, brows furrowing.

"I'm fine," he says, like there's no other answer he should be giving. His hospital gown bunches as he slips the hand to the back of Piers' neck, pulling him in so their foreheads can touch. "It's okay. Hunnigan helped me."

"Baby," Piers whispers, not trusting himself to speak. He picks up Leon's other hand to press a kiss to his knuckles, belatedly realizing that it's Piers who's trembling.

"I'm okay," Leon repeats, solemn. Earnest. Piers sobs.

"You scared me," he manages, voice watery. "I'm so sorry I couldn't get here right away, there was a delay, and---"

"I love you," Leon says simply, lolling his head into Piers' palm when he pulls back and shifts to cup Leon's cheek. His movements are sluggish, suggesting that his strange buoyancy is probably slight loopiness from whatever is in his IV, but his voice is firm, certain. Leon smiles when Piers strokes over his hair again, those luminous blue eyes and perfect cheekbones still so gorgeous even in sickness.

"I love you too," Piers whispers, fresh tears pricking his eyelids. "I love you so much, baby. I've got you, okay?"

[bridgyrose]

Rosebird week day 2: private moments

Summer smiled a bit once she realized she finally had the house to herself. Tai and Qrow were out on a mission, Ruby and Yang were being looked after by a family friend… all worth it to finally have a break from Ozpin’s missions and to relax. At least, until she heard the door open. 

She slowly took her axe off its mount off the wall, gripping it tightly as she made her way to the front room. As she peeked around the doorway, she nearly dropped her axe when she saw Raven sitting. “What are you doing here?” 

“I saw Tai and Qrow leave, so I figured you could use a little company,” Raven said with a small smile. “So I decided to stop by-” 

“And you cant stop by when the kids are here too?” 

“You… you know I cant.” 

“You could.” Summer sat her axe down and walked over to Raven, gently taking her hand. “I’d love for you to come here more. And for Yang and Ruby to meet you too. I know you left to protect everyone, but there’s still room for you to live here.” 

Raven looked away. “You know exactly why I cant.” 

“I-I know, but…” Summer let out a soft sigh. “I’d… I’d rather we not have to meet privately like this every time. I want to enjoy more time with you.” 

“Qrow and Tai would never let me.” 

“What they want wont matter.” Summer pulled Raven to the couch to sit. “Well, if you’re here, you should join me to relax.” 

“I cant relax-” 

“I’m not asking you, I’m tell you to.” Summer pulled Raven down to sit and smiled at her. “If you’re only going to meet me for our ‘private time’ then you need to at least spend time with me.” 

Raven shook her head and tried to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Can you not call it that?” 

Summer leaned against her. “Its your fault. If you didnt insist on only coming when I’m alone, then I’d call it something else. But instead, it's always a private meeting with you. So, private time.” 

“It sounds like something a teenager would say when they're getting ready to get laid.” 

“Its never anything like that.” 

“Still sounds like that.” 

“If you didnt insist on acting like a shy teenager, then I wouldnt have it call it that.” 

“I dont act like a shy teenager!” 

“You’re scared of letting people close to you and what they’ll think about you caring about others.” Summer pulled Raven close and leaned against her shoulder. “Just like a teenager coming out of a bad home would be. We’re not teenagers anymore, so you dont have to worry what anyone will think about it. We can be together.” 

“We can, but its not… I’m not worried about what others will think.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“I cant tell you. But… I guess there wouldnt be any harm in showing.” 

“What do you mean by show-” Summer paused as she watched small flames start to dance around Raven’s fingertips as she raised her hand. The flames then froze, the ice falling onto the floor and melting as quickly as they came. When she finally looked at Raven again, she could see flames around her eyes just as they went out. 

“This is why I keep wanting to meet with you privately. Why I ran away. And I’m afraid that if I’m here for too long, you and Ruby will be hurt by people who want this power.” 

Summer quietly nodded and took Raven’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Nothing will ever happen to Ruby and I.” 

Raven looked away. “But what if something does? What if someone comes after you just to get to me?” 

“Then I’ll make sure you dont have to worry. So, will you come home to me?” 

Raven started to nod, and then froze as she heard voices from outside. She pulled away and stood up. “I should go.” 

“Wait Raven!” Summer let out a small groan as she watched Raven shift into her bird form and fly out the open window. Just like she always did. Only ever giving her time in private. 

[truetogaia]

just thinking and crying over the way simon would continue to refer to you as “his girl” even after your sudden passing.

he would talk about you as if you were still alive whenever relationships came up in conversation. and he’d be so reluctant to allow anyone, even his respected comrades, to try and comfort him.

“yeah, me n my girl have been together for years now. she’s everything. all i’ve got, ya know?”

he would make sure to always keep your resting place full of life. Whether that was by planting your favorite plant, and naming it after you, or always keeping it filled with bouquets of your favorite flowers. and he’d always take your beloved pet that you left behind to go see you.

“did you miss mommy, p/n? i bet our girl missed you so much.” and he’d smile sadly when your baby showed signs of recognizing your grave. his heavy hand petting it comfortingly “so excited to see her today, yeah?”

cod masterlist

[coffeetank]

Ideas to Show Secret Pining

"Why don't you join me?"

"I'll give you a ride, don't worry."

*does something they don't like* "What? I like it."

*immense staring at every chance they get*

*thinking of their crush while listening to songs*

"You said you liked it so I brought it for you."

*finds ways to spend more time with them*

*friendly bullying intensifies*

"I'm looking forward to seeing you there."

"Are you gonna be there?"

"How about we sneak off, just you and me?"

"Why don't I cook for them? What's their favourite dish again?"

*aggressive google searches about how to propose to your crush*

"I'll join those dance lessons, maybe then she'll notice me."

*hopeless around them*

*failed flirting attempts*

*increased compliments*

"My problem is that I like them a little too much for my sanity."

*gets jealous* "So, are you seeing them or something?"

"Are you okay?" // "Completely okay!" (definitely not okay)

*tries to sabotage their crush's date*

*gets into trouble so they can be scolded by their crush*

"I want you to come with me, please?"

-ashlee

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚

You weren't quite sure how you ended up in this situation. One moment Wade and Logan were stabbing each other in that damn Honda the next thing you knew Logan was pounding into from behind. His hand's clutching your hips tight as Wade thrusted up into your pussy.

Your hands on Wade's chest, mask pulled up so only his lips were shown. "Such a naughty little girl you are with such a sweet little pussy."

Gritting his teeth, Logan tries to not think about Wade fucking you too. He wanted to be the one to get you to hit your orgasm not that little fucker. Pulling his cock out, he then slammed back in causing your body to shift forward. "Shut the fuck up."

Scoffing, Wade let his hand grab your breast as his thumb circle your nipple. "I know what you're trying to do wolfie boy and it's not gonna work! I'm gonna make her cum first."

Resting your head on Wade's chest you could feel your heart slamming in your chest as both men continued to fight with each other, as they continued to fuck you and you knew neither men would let up until one of them would admit defeat.

It was going to be a long night