#marterlist

[la-patrona-magdalena]

Don´t Like Me! - Masterlist

Synopsis: You always wanted your family to look at you, even just once. At least with a bit of the affection they gave to the portraits of your mother. Too bad that when they finally did, you were looking at the pages of a comic that showed the cruel future.

Inspired by the manhwa: no place for the Fake Princess

Warnings: English is not my first language, so I used a translator. Yandere content, neglect, abandonment, angst (?), allusions to death, original character (not the reader), allusions to torture. I try to keep the gender neutral, but in some places I may miss a feminine pronoun. If any warnings are missing here, please let me know.

You can read the fanfic in its original language (Spanish) on my AO3

Disclaimer: This fanfic is for personal reading only. The use of this text for AI model training, data mining, commercial purposes, or any automated reproduction is strictly prohibited without the explicit consent of the author. Translation or reposting to other platforms is also strictly prohibited without the author's permission. Thank you.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ᴏɴ ꜱᴀᴛᴜʀᴅᴀʏꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴀʀ ꜱᴄʜᴇᴅᴜʟᴇ. ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟɪɴᴇꜱ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇɴᴛʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ. ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ᴀɴɴᴇ ꜰʀᴀɴᴋ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴀʀʏ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ (ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇꜱꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟɪɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴜɴᴄᴛɪᴏɴ).

𓆰𔘓 Prologue.

𓆰𔘓 Chapter one. A glimpse into the family secret

𓆰𔘓 Chapter Two. See Them Truly

𓆰𔘓 Chapter Three. Seeing into the void

𓆩𖹭𓆪 Will there be any reactions or consequences from the Bat Family because they left Reader with the Joker?

𓆩𖹭𓆪 How similar will Serelith be to Eliana in the manhwa, and the book to the comics? (in spanish)

𓆩𖹭𓆪 Will there be romantic interests? (in spanish)

Taglist

(1/3) @lettucel0ver @sirenetheblogger @mourart7 @yhin-gg @cssammyyarts @pearlyribbons @ottjhe @devils-blackrose @mindscape123 @rad4bean @cruzerforce4256 @allycat4458 @passingthroughlegume @bunbunbread @aaaashiiii @wizzerreblogs @ratterpatter @cluelessteam @kore-of-the-underworld @simpingpandas @rosy-myhouse34 @shqyou @kitkatq05 @charlenexoxo1 @astrid-ash @nisararelle @teamintwithice @bluepanda08 @k-anaru @totired0-0 @niamcarlin ​ @iwannaflyaway @overlyobsessivefangirl @mikusamsan @wishiwaswritingrn @random4137 @mallowryblog @darkmoka @starslightzz @hearts4mica @justonerandomreader @zhentheraven @lystaaae @oliviaewl @cynniee @burningkittenprince @gurllss @exactlynumberonekryptonite @jungkooks-tiny-waist @bellethesleepypotato (2/3) @noclue-0 @chiara-bell @senhoritaapple @bronermalls @randomlyappearingartist @angwlart @classicsimpforaaronwarner @reblogs-posts @welpthisisboring @saturdayrj @yuyuzi-ling

Anom

🎀

[oh-notthisagain]

MASTERLIST

Dorian

SlashFic (ongoing);

Breathless Ribbons (ongoing);

The Arcana

(To be started)

[dreamwithlost]

MERGULHE NO OCEANO COMIGO

⊹ 2ª história no universo "I wish U walk with me".

↳ Não há uma ordem para seguir

Taeyong x Reader

Gênero: Angst, angst, e um leve fluff

W.C: 1.7K

ᏪNotas: Mais uma história no universo desse meu projeto, eu particularmente gostei muito de escrever essa, pois essa vibe meio triste estava combinando comigo (?) KKKKKK Enfim! Espero que gostem, e gostem da mensagem que tentei passar

O pai de Taeyong faleceu no final de janeiro, e à medida que março se aproximava, a ausência de lágrimas nos olhos dele tornava-se cada vez mais inquietante. Era como se ele estivesse preso em um inverno interminável, onde a dor permanecia congelada sob uma superfície calma e imperturbável. Desde o funeral, quase um mês havia se passado, e ainda não havia visto Taeyong expressar qualquer emoção verdadeira. Sua fachada de tranquilidade era um castelo de cartas prestes a desmoronar. Embora alguns pudessem considerar isso normal, você conhecia Taeyong o suficiente para saber que algo estava terrivelmente errado. A dor que deveria estar à flor da pele parecia trancada em algum lugar profundo, inacessível.

Taeyong e seu pai tinham uma relação complexa, marcada por discordâncias e desencontros. O ex-chefe de polícia, um homem de princípios rígidos e normas inflexíveis, nunca compreendeu os sonhos do filho, um cantor de coração aberto, sempre buscando alegria nas pequenas coisas. Desde que você e Taeyong passaram a morar juntos, tornou-se evidente que as ligações para o pai eram menos frequentes do que as para a mãe. Contudo, havia algo de inquebrantável no vínculo deles, algo que se manifestava nas mensagens esporádicas do pai, celebrando vitórias do time de futebol que ambos amavam, e em conselhos do mais novo que sempre começavam com "Meu pai me disse uma vez...". Algumas relações são assim, uma montanha-russa, mas ainda são amor, o tipo de amor que resiste ao tempo e à distância, como o de pai e filho. Quando somos jovens, nem sempre percebemos que as pessoas que mais se importam conosco são aquelas que sabem nos desafiar, que sabem dizer "não" quando necessário. E nossa! O pai de Taeyong já o havia resgatado de muitas encrencas na adolescência, mesmo que às vezes errasse também.

Era essa a razão pela qual ver Taeyong, tentando esconder sua dor atrás de uma máscara de indiferença era tão inquietante. Você conversou com algumas pessoas do círculo de amigos de vocês — como Doyoung, e a, novamente, namorada de Jaehyun, ambos amigo de infância de Taeyong — sobre essa situação, mas nem mesmo eles conseguiram penetrar na armadura que ele havia erguido ao seu redor.

— Meu Deus, parem de agir como se eu fosse um pobre coitado — Taeyong explodiu certa tarde, enquanto cortava tomates, a faca indo e vindo em movimentos precisos. Ele nem ao menos olhou nos seus olhos. — Sim, é triste, mas está tudo bem. Estou lidando bem com isso.

O sorriso que Taeyong lhe lançou era gentil, mas oscilante, como uma chama prestes a se apagar.

— Estou bem.

Você sabia que a mãe e a irmã de Taeyong — especialmente a irmã, que era extremamente apegada ao pai — estavam desoladas. E a cada sorriso forçado, a cada brincadeira que caía no vazio, você entendia melhor o que estava impedindo Taeyong de realmente enfrentar seu luto: a sombra de seu próprio pai. Taeyong se sentia, de alguma forma, obrigado a ser o que seu pai sempre dizia que ele deveria ser: o homem da família, o mais forte!

Como poderia ele se permitir ser vulnerável, quando tantos dependiam de sua força agora?

A tensão era sufocante. Taeyong não queria falar sobre o assunto, nem sobre qualquer outro assunto. Ele não conseguia mais se sentar para maratonar a série favorita de vocês, sempre alegando estar cansado demais, apesar de não ser tão tarde, nunca passando das dez. Seus olhos, que antes brilhavam com alegria e entusiasmo, agora estavam opacos, como se uma parte vital de sua alma estivesse ausente.

Então, naquela tarde de domingo, você decidiu agir. Taeyong estava preso em uma prisão que ele mesmo havia construído, e você precisava encontrar uma maneira de libertá-lo.

— Que ótimo — Você respondeu à mentira dele. — Então, vá trocar de roupa, porque vamos sair — Anunciou, saindo da cozinha em busca de sua bolsa, sem dar a Taeyong tempo para protestar.

A viagem de carro foi silenciosa, e você não se preocupou em responder às perguntas dele sobre para onde estavam indo com tanta pressa. Continuou dirigindo em direção ao litoral, já que moravam próximo do mesmo, na esperança de que a proximidade do mar, algo que sempre havia trazido conforto ao amor da sua vida, pudesse ajudá-lo agora. Detestava vê-lo assim, tão distante, tão calado.

Você se lembrava vividamente do dia em que o conheceu. Taeyong, com suas madeixas — na época — castanhas encharcadas, saía da piscina do ginásio com um sorriso vitorioso, apesar de ter perdido a competição de natação. Você, por outro lado, havia vencido, e a admiração dele logo o levou a iniciar uma conversa. Lembrava-se daquela tarde de diálogos espontâneas, da maneira como ele continuava competindo com alegria, mesmo sem nunca ganhar. Ele havia confessado que não era tão bom no esporte, mas disse: “Eu nado porque a água é como o aconchego de uma mãe que sempre vai te entender, mesmo sem você dizer uma só palavra, e só isso me basta”. Um tempo depois, vocês se encontraram novamente na praia, e dessa vez você já o entendia. Tinha aprendido com sua humildade — algo raro para você, que costumava ser uma jovem esnobe, e que hoje julga também como tola. Tornou-se professora de natação voluntária nos fins de semana após aquela mudança, o que deixou Taeyong muito contente. E daquele dia em diante, vocês não se separaram mais.

A água que os uniu agora parecia a chave para apaziguar seus sentimentos mais uma vez.

Quando finalmente chegaram ao destino, Taeyong olhou em volta, surpreso.

— Ué — Murmurou o loiro, enquanto você saía do carro e seguia pela trilha conhecida, que levava a um penhasco discreto e não tão profundo. Um lugar popular entre surfistas, nadadores e adolescentes imprudentes. Vocês adoravam aquela região.

Você não o chamou, apenas continuou caminhando até a beira do penhasco. Sabia que Taeyong seguiria. Ele sempre seguia, no final.

— Mergulha comigo? — Você pediu, olhando para ele, que parecia tentar decidir se havia algo errado com você.

— A gente nem trouxe roupa de banho.

— E isso importa? — Você respondeu, tirando a camiseta oversized e a jogando de lado. — Só… deixa o mar falar com você.

E, sem mais hesitação, você saltou. Ouviu a exclamação surpresa de Taeyong enquanto mergulhava. A sensação de ser envolvida pela água era como voltar para casa, um abraço silencioso que apagava o mundo exterior. Submersa, todos os sons se tornaram abafados, e por um momento, você encontrou a paz. Mas logo a ansiedade cresceu dentro de você ao retornar à superfície. E se Taeyong não viesse? Se ele achasse tudo isso uma ideia estúpida, pegasse o carro e fosse embora? Afinal, você não estava em perigo, nem perdida.

O alívio só veio quando você viu Taeyong à distância, tirando a camisa e, como você, saltando sem hesitação.

Quando ele nadou até você, pronto para perguntar o que estava acontecendo, você encheu os pulmões e mergulhou novamente, soltando o maior grito que pode, que emergiu em bolhas e se dissipou na superfície.

— Ok, salgado, mas muito prazeroso — Comentou quando voltou à tona, cuspindo o gosto salgado da água.

— Você tá doida? — Taeyong perguntou, ainda sem entender. — O que tá fazendo?

— Gritando — Você respondeu, como se fosse a coisa mais óbvia do mundo. — Gritando! — Repetiu, com toda a força que encontrou dentro de si, uma explosão de tudo que estava preso.

Taeyong ainda estava confuso.

— Eu te trouxe aqui para isso, para você poder gritar, socar o vento, xingar quem quiser — Explicou, nadando um pouco para longe do Lee. — Ninguém vai te julgar ou reclamar aqui, meu amor. Apenas… vai ser abraçado pela água.

E mais uma vez gritou, esvaziando os pulmões de todo o ar e enchendo o mar de sua dor.

— Vamos! Tenta! — Você pediu.

Taeyong hesitou por um momento, mas então, encheu os pulmões e soltou um grito que parecia rasgar a própria essência do silêncio. Era um som primitivo, cru, carregado de todas as emoções reprimidas. Ele mergulhou, afundando seus sentimentos, deixando que o mar levasse suas preocupações.

Você havia entendido que Taeyong não conseguiria conversar com você sobre aquele sentimento, não agora. Algumas coisas eram difíceis demais para serem ditas; algumas nunca conseguiriam ser verdadeiramente ditas. Mas isso não significava que você não pudesse ajudá-lo. Apenas precisava estar ao seu lado e permitir que ele sentisse toda a fragilidade de que precisava. Taeyong estava em dor, uma daquelas dores que trava a garganta e parece machucar mais a cada mera interação que se tenta fazer. Ele não precisava conversar, precisava gritar, espernear, mostrar o quanto doía. E nisso, você só poderia estar ao seu lado, sendo testemunha de seus atos, mostrando que via sua luta.

Quando Taeyong emergiu do mar, seus olhos estavam avermelhados, e era difícil distinguir quanto daquilo era culpa da água salgada e quanto eram lágrimas. Todavia, o primeiro sorriso sincero após muito tempo surgiu em seus lábios, e você se sentiu aliviada. Sabia que não poderia tirar sua dor tão facilmente, mas ao menos, enquanto nadava em sua direção e o abraçava dentro do oceano, soube que poderia lhe dar o suporte de que precisasse.

— Nossa última conversa foi uma briga — Ele confessou pela primeira vez. Você não respondeu, apenas apertou o abraço, deixando que ele sentisse sua presença sólida e constante.

Sabia que Taeyong não gostaria de ouvir um discurso enorme sobre como aquilo não mudaria nada, sobre como ele continuava sendo um filho amado. Ele estava furioso e magoado, e mesmo sabendo disso tudo que diria, nada mudaria.

— Quem ganhou a briga? — Você perguntou depois de algum tempo, sua voz suave como a brisa.

— Ele. Eu só estava sendo idiota.

— Então, sem dúvidas, você já está perdoado. Foi uma saída triunfal, seu pai gostava disso — Sussurrou junto às ondas do mar, e sentiu a risada anasalada dele sobre seu pescoço. Aquilo lhe tranquilizou. Tinha medo de que a brincadeira não o acalmasse.

Naquele abraço, envoltos pela imensidão do oceano, vocês permaneceram juntos, silenciosos, enquanto o sol começava a se pôr no horizonte. As águas ao redor refletiam tons dourados e alaranjados, como se o próprio mundo estivesse lhes envolvendo em um casulo de tranquilidade.

Vocês mergulharam juntos novamente, lado a lado, afogando todas as mágoas que poderiam sequer imaginar, e foi ali, em meio à vastidão azul, que você e Taeyong finalmente perceberam que o amor não era apenas sobre suportar tudo sozinho. Era também sobre deixar que os outros compartilhassem seu fardo, que o amparassem quando suas próprias forças não fossem suficientes.

Nas águas salgadas do mar, Taeyong encontrou seu primeiro passo de volta à luz, que mesmo com a ausência do pai, não precisava ser esquecida. Podia voltar até ela, e não como o homem forte que sentia que precisava ser, mas como o homem que ele realmente era: vulnerável, real, e, acima de tudo, amado.

[banqanas]

i made a sheet to document the translations/posts i made related to exile tribe (bc tumblr's tagging system isnt the best and i definitely did not tag them all properly)

and its nice to see how much i've accomplished the past year :))

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝐻𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑀𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛

• Marterlist

The hot steam filled the small bathroom, covering the tiled walls in droplets and fogging up the mirror completely. A few last streams of water dripped from the showerhead, showing the shower was over, while Bakugo ran a towel through his wet hair, messing it up even more. The heat made him feel half-asleep, his eyelids heavy, and he muttered a curse for waking up late. He didn’t even have the energy to argue that maybe this time, you should be the one making breakfast.

With a rough and annoyed gesture, he wiped his hand across the fogged mirror, leaving a visible streak in front of his face. He scowled. His reflection was there, slightly flushed from the heat, blond strands stuck to his forehead… but it was what was just below his jaw that made him freeze.

His eyes shot open, brows furrowed, jaw tight. His hand went to his neck quickly, fingers tracing the damp skin with a mix of urgency and disbelief. He tilted his chin up, turned his head. One. Two. There they were. Two dark, purplish marks that stood out harshly against his skin tone: one hickey right in the center of his throat, and another, longer and deeper, on the left side. Like a damn trophy. Like your signature—one he didn’t remember giving you permission to leave.

“Goddammit, Y/n,” he growled under his breath, his tone rough, irritated, and embarrassed all at once.

How the hell hadn’t he noticed before? Was he so damn drunk on desire last night that he didn’t feel it? Or did he feel it and just ignore it like an idiot?

He couldn’t go to the agency like this. The damn hero agency! And on top of that, in the middle of summer. There was no way in hell he could wear the winter uniform with the high collar without being cooked alive in the first five minutes.

When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp and sticking out messily, his boots hit the floor with force as he walked straight toward you, standing with your back to him in the kitchen, busy at the stove. The smell of breakfast filled the air, warm and tempting.

Without thinking much, he snapped:

"Fix this!" his voice was harsh, loaded with genuine irritation... though also tinged with a slight, very slight trace of desperation.

You turned your head curiously, blinking with an innocent smile that fooled no one.

"Fix what?" you asked, tilting your head.

Your eyes widened, first in surprise, then with a guilty giggle you tried to hide behind your hand.

"Oh... about that..." you murmured, glancing away as if the floor had suddenly become very interesting. "I got carried away."

Your excuse sounded weak, even to your own ears. And Bakugo knew it. He scowled deeper, arms crossing over his chest, his biceps tightening under the fabric of his suit.

But he couldn’t afford this right now. Not if he wanted to get to the agency on time.

"Tch..." he clicked his tongue, turning abruptly so you wouldn’t see how his mouth twisted into a resigned—yet deep down—amused smirk. "You’re gonna pay for this, Y/n."

The only solution, after Bakugo nearly wrecked the bathroom trying to think of alternatives, was the most humiliating one: makeup.

Of course, there was no way he’d know how to apply it, so you had to do it yourself—between stifled giggles and his threatening growls.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he had to admit—grudgingly—that the makeup did a decent job hiding the hickeys. You could barely see them. As long as no one looked too closely, they’d go unnoticed.

Or so he thought.

A few hours later...

The scorching summer heat weighed down on the city like a curse.

The mission with Kirishima was intense: chasing villains, rescuing civilians, explosions, running.

And with every drop of sweat that rolled down his skin, Bakugo could feel the makeup melting, mixing with the sweat, wearing off.

At first, he didn’t pay much attention.

Until, during a break, Kirishima gave him a weird look. A really weird look.

"Hey..." the redhead frowned, leaning toward his neck. "Is that...?"

Bakugo took a sharp step back.

"The hell are you staring at, dumbass?!" he snapped, instantly on the defensive.

But it was already too late. Kirishima burst out laughing, loud enough to catch Denki’s attention. Curious as ever, he jogged over.

"No way! Is that a hickey?" Denki said, pointing straight at it.

"Two of them!" Kirishima added between laughs, doubling over.

Bakugo growled, clenching his fists as he felt what little makeup remained sliding off, exposing the purple marks now practically screaming to the world: "I'm taken, and my girlfriend is a damn savage."

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[monamedeiros12]

All Roads Lead to Texas: Where it Begins

ALERT: ROAD TRIP WITH JOEL. I REPEAT! ROAD TRIP WITH JOEL MILLER!!!!!!!!!

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: When a two-day trip to Texas gets interrupted by a broken-down car, you find yourself in a stranger’s truck — with no choice but to trust him, and nothing to do but talk. After deep conversations, bad jokes, and slow-burning flirtation, the line between strangers and something else begins to blur.

Words: 4k

Warnings: age gap (reader is 26, Joel is in his 40’s), a little bit of teasing. Yeah, that's it... for now. (smut, but not in this chapter. patience is a virtue!!!)

A/N: Guuuuysssssss I'm back. I'm sorry it took me so long to write this, blame my busy week at college. This story will probably have three parts, the second one is already written, I'll correct the mistakes and post it, so stay tuned and let me know if I should tag you in the taglist, okay?

Your feedback make me so happy, so please let know if you enjoyed this one!!

part two - series marterlist - full masterlist

“No. No, no, no, no. Come on, don’t do this to me.” 

You could feel the engine dying. You pressed the accelerator, but nothing happened. You were fucked. 

“Fuck!” you hit the steering wheel with both hands and let out a tired breath. 

Now, you were in the middle of nowhere, with a broken car, and still far away from your destination. 

But apparently it was your lucky day, you can see a gas station up ahead. The car would just have to survive for two more minutes. 

When you pull over in one of the parking spaces, you finally get out of the car and open the hood, hoping to find where the problem was and pray that it would be something easy to fix, otherwise you would lose a trip of two days. 

However, it was worse than you thought. The engine was fucked, and even though you didn’t understand much about cars, you knew engine problems weren’t the easiest to fix.

You look around, trying to think of a solution, but there is nothing nearby, just the road, and the gas station you’re currently on. 

You reach for your phone and call for a tow, because really, what else can you do? You wished there were a mechanic nearby, but that’s clearly not an option. 

A very nice lady picks up the phone and you explain the situation, she says that someone will arrive in forty minutes and that you should stay where you are. 

Okay, it could be worse. You were on the road for ten hours already, but now with the car fucked, you had no idea what you should do. Probably just hope that the tow truck wouldn't take you the whole way back. Maybe they could rent you a car or something. 

While you waited, you went to the bathroom, ate something from the convenience store, and sat back in your car, a low tune playing on the radio. The weather was quite hot — the shorts and tank top you were wearing were the perfect fit. You’d chosen the most comfortable clothes you owned because you knew it was going to be a long, tiring trip.

Thirty minutes passed. Then forty. Still nothing. You decide to go outside and wait there, see if you could spot something on the road. After a while, a truck pulled in. The guy who climbed out was stupidly hot — like, unfairly so. He moved with the kind of quiet confidence that made people turn their heads without knowing why. Broad shoulders, strong hands, a slight scruff on his jaw. Not trying to impress anyone — just existing. And somehow, that was worse.

You try to look away and not look like a weirdo, but you can’t avoid it — the way he moves, literally just his movements, were hypnotizing. The muscles in his arms flexed as he turned, reaching for the hose to fuel the truck. 

He met your eyes for a second and nodded gently. No smug smile, no raised eyebrow, nothing at all. Just something quiet and kind in the way he acknowledged you.

You nodded back and looked away, a little embarrassed to be caught staring.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you hear suddenly, and look his way to make sure that is to you who he’s speaking to. 

“Well, kind of,” you start, a little surprised that he actually spoke to you. “My car just broke, I’m waiting for the tow truck.” 

“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s some bad luck. You live nearby?”

You can’t help but let out a mocking laugh. “Definitely no. I live in L.A.” 

A whistle comes out of his mouth. “Wow, and what are you doing here? Do you even know where you are?”

“Yes, I do,” you let out a short laugh. “Was planning on visiting my sister in Texas, so I decided to do the trip by car. It was the wrong choice, as you can see” you nod your head toward the car.

“Where in Texas?” he asks. Finishing up the fill-up. 

“Austin.” 

When the words left your mouth, you finally see the tow truck arriving. Not catching the guy’s reaction. 

“Finally.” you murmur, more to yourself. 

The guy driving the truck come out and asks, “Who’s the one with the broken car?”

“That would be me.” He looks over at your car as you pointed it out. He asked a few more questions about how it all went down, and you explained everything — including your sister’s story and whether they might have a rental car available.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. At least not anywhere close. The part of our company responsible for rentals is in California — you’d have to go back either way.”

Your expression fell. Now it was definitely worse than you thought.

“I can take you there,” the man who had been fueling his car suddenly says. “To Austin. That’s where I’m headed too.”

You give him a confused look, choked by his proposition. You didn’t even notice that he was listening to your conversation. 

You hesitate, unsure about what to say. It was tempting, sure — but for all you knew, he could be a serial killer with good manners.

And as if he could read your mind, he says, “I’m not a sociopath.”

“Well, if you were, you’d never admit it.” You shrug, still observing him.

“Fair enough. Should I pinky promise? Just so you know, I don’t break those.”

You look at him with a brown raised, a small smile on your lips.

“Actually, that’s a great idea.”

You glanced at the guy taking your car and told him you’d pick it up when you were back from your trip in a week. He agreed, but before he left, he glanced at the man and then back to you, clearly referring to the whole situation of going off with someone you didn’t even know.

“Are you sure?”

You glance over at the mysterious man, and something about him told you it was okay. You couldn’t quite say what it was, but you had the feeling he wasn’t dangerous at all. Maybe it was his thick accent, making it clear he was indeed from Texas.

“Yes, I’m sure…” 

He agreed and got ready to leave. You take your things from the truck and walks in the direction of the handsome man, a curious smile on your face. “Alright, pinky promise moment.” You lift your pinky, and he quickly intertwines his with yours, a half-smile forming on his mouth.

“I promise I’m not going to kill you. And not put you in any danger. And get you safe and sound to your sister’s house.”

“Okay, I can work with that.” You smile, squeezing his fingers.

He helped you put your handbag in the back of the truck and told you to get inside the car.

The first thing you notice when you get in the truck is his scent—faint, but everywhere, clinging to the air like it belongs there. It throws off your train of thought for a few seconds before you manage to focus again

“I hope it’s not too late to ask — are you a good driver? It’s a long road,” you asks, putting on your seatbelt.

He laughs, turning on the car. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m a good driver.”

Okay, you need to admit. Him, calling you sweetheart with his thick southern accent? Dangerous. 

“Glad to hear it,” you answer, rolling the window down, feeling the hot summer breeze in your hair. “So, do you always give rides to strangers, or is today a special occasion?”

“Only when I forget how many horror movies start like this. Usually I just leave people on the road,” he says with a sarcastic tone.

You laugh, staring at him and noticing a faint smile on his lips as well.

You take a look around his truck then, and you notice right away how careful he is with it. The car was extremely clean and not messy at all. That said a lot about what kind of person he was… Or maybe he just liked to kill his victims in an organized space. 

“Be honest, how many women have you rescued like this?” 

“Including you?” he glances quickly at you, “One.” 

“You expect me to believe that? You definitely look like someone who’s rescued a damsel or two.” you add, playfully. 

“You think I do this all the time? Must be the flannel. Gives off that reliable guy vibe.”

And yeah, he was right. That blue flannel definitely gave off hot, protective, and unexpectedly kind vibes.

You were back on the highway now. It didn’t take long to realize he wasn’t lying—he was, in fact, a really good driver. The pace was steady.

“I forgot something.” you suddenly remember. 

“What?” he asks, glancing at you with a worried frown.

“What is your name?” 

He laughs, clearly not expecting that.

“Yeah, I guess that’s something important to know.” he shakes his head, still smiling, “It’s Joel. Joel Miller.” 

“Joel Miller.” you repeat, tasting the name on your tongue.

“What about yours?” 

You give him your full name. 

“Nice to meet you.” he replies. 

You giggle, “Nice to meet you too.” 

The sun bathed the car in golden light as you looked out the window, wide-open fields stretching along both sides of the road. It all felt strangely calm.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before Joel reached over and turned on the radio. An old country playlist crackled to life.

“Oh god, is this what we’re doing?” you begin, giving him a judgmental look “Did the car come with a time machine too?” 

“What? It’s good music.”

“It’s music for people that collect vinyl and yell at clouds.” 

“I do collect vinyl.” 

“Oh Lord, I knew it,” you mutter, shaking your head and reconsidering all your life choices. You reached to change the song, but his hand stopped yours.

“Don’t touch that dial.”

“Relax, old man. I’m just trying to find something that was made after 1995.”

“Why? Afraid of hearing real instruments?”

“No. Afraid your taste in music is contagious.”

“You disrespect Willie Nelson again and I’m pulling over.”

“Fine.” You slump into your seat, arms crossed and lips in a pout. “Just know your playlist feels like motor oil and regret.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m already being kind by taking you where you need to go. Don’t push it.”

You glare at him, trying to look upset even though the corners of your mouth were already twitching with a smile.

“So, why did you decide to go to Texas by car?” he asks. And you let out a sigh, thinking about your answer. 

You sigh, eyes drifting out the window. “I got fired,” you admit. “I was tired of feeling lost, of not knowing what I’m doing with my life. Thought it might be good for me to go somewhere far, alone. My sister lives in Austin, so... figured it was the perfect time to visit her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” he says gently—and you could tell he meant it. 

“It’s okay. The real issue wasn’t losing the job. It’s that I didn’t even care. I didn’t like it. And then I started freaking out, because I’m 26 and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life, you know?”

“Well... if it makes you feel any better, I was 35 when I started my contracting company. Took me years to decide. My brother practically had to drag me into it.”

“Wait—you’re a CEO?”

Joel laughs. “Barely. It’s a small company.”

“Still! That’s amazing. Congrats.”

“Thanks, honey.” He looks flustered for a moment. “But the point is, you’ve got time. You’ll figure it out. I guarantee it.”

“Thanks, Joel. I really hope you’re right.”

“Trust me. Things have a way of working out.”

You smile, touched by how genuine he sounded.

“So, you work with your brother?”

“Yep. He can be a real pain in the ass sometimes,” he says, though there was affection in his voice.

“Let me guess—he’s the younger one.”

Joel glances at you. “How’d you know?”

“You just give off older brother energy.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You live in Austin?” you ask, even though the accent kind of gave it away.

“Yeah. I was in Arizona delivering something for a client. I like long road trips. Whenever I get the chance, I hit the road.”

“I get it. It’s peaceful.”

“Usually, yeah. Except when I find pretty women with broken cars on the side of the road.”

That made you smile—big. He thought you were pretty.

“Oh, I’m sorry I ruined your peaceful trip,” you tease.

“It’s okay. That one’s on me.”

After a few more songs from whatever ancient era his playlist was from, you speak up again.

“So what’s your plan? You gonna drive straight through or crash somewhere?”

“I’m old, darlin’. I need my beauty sleep at some point.”

“I figured,” you laugh, and he grins.

“But if you’re okay with it,” you add, “we can take turns. I drive while you rest and vice versa.”

“That’s a solid plan, but I imagine you’ve been driving for a long time already. And you’re not gonna get any real rest sitting in a car. It’s better if we stop somewhere for the night.”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

“There’s a motel I know. We’ll pull in once it gets dark.”

“Alright. Just... please don’t kidnap me.”

He chuckles. “I told you, I won’t. I fucking pinky promised.”

“I know, I’m just making sure.” you give him a side eye, hiding a smile.

“So, for what you said, you’re not used to doing trips like this, right?” 

You shake your head.

“No. It was a special occasion this time. The special occasion being me having an identity crisis.” 

“Well, there were worse decisions you could have made. A road trip is actually a great idea.” he answers.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It didn’t go as planned though, because I’m here in some stranger’s car. I was supposed to be thinking about my life. Instead, I’m just talking nonstop.”

“Think on the bright side, you can talk nonstop about your problems.” he suggests.

“You know what? You’re better than a therapist.” you reply jokingly, and Joel laughs.  “Do you like your job?”

“Yes, actually. I always liked to build stuff, work with my hands, you know? Starting a company is very challenging, even a small one, but I enjoy it more than I thought I would.” 

“I worked at an office, I was an account manager. My job was to keep clients happy, basically. Spent two years of my life in that place…” 

“Sound’s a little boring.”

“A little?” you huff “It was extremely boring, that’s why I was so unhappy.”

“And what is something that you always wanted to do? Because I don’t think you always planned to be an account manager.” 

You can’t tell what it is about him that makes you feel safe about telling him stuff about your life. Maybe it is the fact that after this you won’t see each other again.

“I wanted to be a photographer.” you say in a low voice, feeling weird about sharing a long forgotten dream. 

“And you didn’t try to go in that direction? Or you did and something went wrong?” 

You stop to think about the subject. It just always felt like a distant dream. It would be hard, and you’d need a lot of investment, so you never really tried. In your mind, you’re destined to work for the rest of your life at some boring office, with boring people.

“I think I was always scared of the second option. Risking everything, spending a shitload of money on gear just to have it all fall apart halfway through? Yeah, that sounds terrifying.”

“Well darling, welcome to this thing called life.” Joel says with a light tone in his voice.

“Guess I’m just not brave enough for a lot of things.” you admit. 

“Courage is something you can build. Look at what you did—you dropped everything and took off on a two-day trip to Texas. Some things went wrong along the way, sure, but you’re handling it. You found a way. And that’s what happens in every aspect of our lives, including risking everything in a new career”

His words hit you deeper than you expected. For a moment, you just sit there, eyes fixed on the road ahead but not really seeing it. Your throat tightens slightly, and you blink a few times, swallowing the lump that formed out of nowhere.

“You okay?” he asks gently, looking at you with a worried look.

“Yeah… I think I really needed to hear this, Joel.”

You look at him, still processing everything, trying to figure out what you’re supposed to do next — but then Joel breaks the silence, his voice gentle this time.

“So… if nothing could go wrong, no risks, no what-ifs… what would your life look like?”

“Well, for starters, I’d live in a beach house with huge windows, drink overpriced coffee every morning, and take pictures of random stuff like tree shadows and rusty mailboxes.” 

Joel lets out a deep, genuine laugh, the kind that fills the car like sunlight through the windows. You try to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible—his laugh is contagious, and soon enough, you’re cracking up too.

“I’m serious!” you say, still laughing.

“Oh, I know you are, honey. So, beach house and overpriced coffee is your idea of a perfect life?” 

“You forgot the mailbox's pictures, but yeah, basically.” 

“Wow, you’re easy to please.” he answers, smiling.

“I’m a simple woman, Joel.” you tease, and he laughs again, clearly enjoying the picture you paint, and for a moment, everything feels easy. The road hums beneath the tires, sun high in the sky, casting warm light over the dashboard. It's the kind of afternoon where time slows down just enough for you to notice how comfortable the silence between you has become. 

Three hours drift by with the lazy rhythm of the highway, a mix of soft music, scattered conversation, and the surprising calm of two strangers no longer feeling like strangers at all.

Eventually, you started looking around, suddenly aware of your stomach growling.

“You don’t keep snacks in this thing?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“This isn’t a minivan. It’s not built for snacks.”

“Everyone says that... until they get hungry and start going feral.”

“Are you going feral?”

“Not yet. But if you don’t stop at a gas station soon, I can’t make any promises.”

He glanced at you, amused. “You’re really spoiled, you know that? I offer you a ride out of the kindness of my heart, and now you’re acting like this is Uber Premium. You insult my music, now you’re bossing me around... Honestly, kidnapping is starting to sound like a decent option.”

“You wouldn’t last five minutes with me as a hostage. I talk too much and touch all the buttons. Plus, if you kidnap me, you’re legally responsible for feeding me.”

“Fine. There’s a gas station up ahead. But if you come back with Doritos or some shit that stinks up the truck, I’m dropping you off.”

“You threaten to kidnap me and you’re setting snack rules? You’re terrible at this whole criminal thing.”

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “Guess I need to work on my skills.”

He does as promised. A few minutes later, he pulls into a small gas station just off the highway.

You follow him into a roadside diner that smells like coffee, grease, and something vaguely sweet. The place is cozy in that worn-out kind of way—faded checkered floors, cracked red leather booths, and the hum of an old ceiling fan.

A bell above the door jingles as it shuts behind you, and before you can even look around, a voice calls from behind the counter:

“Well, look who finally decided to stop by again.”

A woman in her thirties, confident and pretty in a tough-love kind of way, walks over with a wide smile—clearly aimed at Joel.

“Thought you’d forgotten all about us,” she says, touching his arm lightly as she hands him a menu.

He gives her a polite smile, the kind that says he’s used to this. “Just passing through, Eve.”

You watch the exchange. She lingers. She glows. He… does not glow back. Still, interesting.

“Well, you know the house. Make yourself at home,” she says, finally turning to you. It takes her a second to notice you’re even there. Her smile tightens, but she says nothing, offering a quick, polite nod.

Joel walks over to one of the booths, and you both slide in—sitting across from each other. He picks up a menu and hands it to you.

“Here. Knock yourself out.”

You raise a brow, not even pretending to hide your amusement.

“What?” he asks, giving you that blank, innocent face.

“So… should I be worried? Is this about to turn into a romantic dinner for three?”

He exhales through his nose, already tired.

“Hardly. She’s just friendly.”

“Friendly?” You scoff. “That woman looked like she was two seconds away from tattooing your name on her apron.”

“Are you jealous, or just bored?”

“Let’s say I’m... entertained.”

“Entertained, huh? That’s the word you’re going with?”

“I like to keep things vague. Drives men like you crazy.”

Joel smirks, eyes narrowing. “You have no idea what that kind of teasing can lead to.” 

“Teasing? I’m just making conversation.” You say it with mock innocence, batting your lashes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He leans back against the booth, eyes trailing over you with that amused, knowing look of his.

“Uh-huh. And I’m just a simple man tryin’ to enjoy his meal without gettin’ wrecked by a pair of eyelashes.”

“You know what, Joel? You should admit I made your trip way more interesting.” 

“You definitely made it louder.”

You can’t control yourself then, it’s stronger than you. 

“Oh baby, I can be a lot louder, but I didn’t think we were doing that kind of trip.” 

“Is that so?” he asks and you nod with your read. “Guess I’ll have to see for myself. Though I gotta say, this truck ain’t exactly the best place for that kind of research, but I can figure something out.” 

“Jesus, Joel—” you cover your face, laughing in disbelief. “You’re actually saying this.”

“What? You think you’re the only one who knows how to flirt?”

You shake your head, words escaping you. “No, I just—” But you never finish the sentence.

He leans in slightly, eyes still locked on yours. “Careful, sweetheart. You don’t know who you’re playing with.”

Then, as if nothing happened, he looks back down at the menu.

You take the out. You’re not shy, but Joel? Joel is dangerous. And you barely know the man.

“I’ve decided what I want. Is your dear friend coming back to take our order?”

He groans. “Any minute now.”

Sure enough, the waitress returns. You both place your orders, and once she walks away—after way too many glances at Joel—you mutter under your breath:

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be back.”

Joel hears you. “Stop that.”

“What?”

He just gives you a look, one of those that says you know exactly what.

The food comes a few minutes later. You eat in peace for a bit, then ask, “How long were you on the road before you found me?”

“You mean today?”

You nod.

“Eleven hours.”

“Oh my god. Aren’t you tired?” you gasp. 

“I’m not that old.” Joel replies, and you laugh.

“That’s not what I meant, Joel. I just—almost fifteen hours on the road? I don’t know how you do it. I was ten in and already ready to quit life.”

He shrugs, taking another bite. “I’m used to it. Like I told you, I do these long trips all the time.”

“Still… your stamina is something else.”

He glances at you. “Yeah, I’ve been told that.”

You arch a brow. So, he does want to play.

“Really? For an old man, I wouldn’t expect you to have that much energy.”

Joel’s smile turns slow and knowing. “I’ve been around long enough to know how to make every second count.”

You press your thighs together, pulse quickening. He looks like he means it—and now, you can’t stop picturing what that might entail. You try to play it off.

“Oh, I see. Hope that’s not just talk.”

He leans back with a smug look. “Guess you’ll never know.”

You glance at his lips. “Guess not,” you murmur.

The tension between you still lingers, thick like smoke in the quiet lull that follows. His words echo in your mind, and for a moment, neither of you says anything—just exchanging glances that feel too loaded for a roadside diner.

After you finish eating, Joel insists on paying for everything, even though you tried to use the “You’re doing enough already, let me have this.” card, but he doesn’t even look at you while you’re talking, just slides his card across the counter like the matter’s already settled.

He grabs a few bottles of water and some snacks—the kind that won’t leave a smell in his truck for the next six months—and tells you to hit the restroom if you need it.

Inside the ladies’ room, you pause in front of the mirror. You look a little tired. And you are.

But this is the first moment you realize something quietly startling:

You don’t want this trip to go by so fast.

------------------------------------------------------------

part two

[hazbinrarepairs]

🔥WELCOME TO THE MOST HELLISH BLOG THAT YOU WILL VISIT🔥(introduction post)

This is a blog dedicated to reblog any rarepair content that I found in the catacombs of Tumblr. As you can expect from the title, I generally won't reblog content of popular ships, unless it is shipped alongside a rarepair or it is included on a polycule (Ej: I would make post of Chaggie if it is shipped alongside a rare ship or they are included on a rare poly ship, like Charlie x Vagiie x Emily, and even tag it as Charlie x Vaggie, but I won't post Chaggie individually).

List of ships that I consider popular (I won't post about them individually):

Chaggie

HuskerDust

StaticMoth/VoxVal

RadioApple/AppleRadio

RadioStatic/StaticRadio

RadioDust

AdamsApple

ValAngel/ValDust

Charlastor

GuitarSpear

CherriSnake

Lucilith

RadioRose

Zestmilla

Ships I kind of doubt if they are rarepairs or not (I will avoid them for now, but you are free to debate if these are rarepairs or not, + most of these are either new ships that are growing or ships that were popular in the past but are kinda rare now):

RadioHusk

Pentniss

Emilute

I also won't post incest ships, Canon x OC and OC x OC ships

Besides these, I will post almost everything! No offense, I like most popular ships, they are popular for a reason (generally), but This blog is exclusively dedicated to rarepairs, I just want most ships to receive the same amount of support, I also hope this may be useful for people who want to search new ships.

Enjoy!

Update 5/12/24

Update 30/6/25 with Part 3

Characters Marterlist

Ships Materlist

Ships Masterlist Part 2

Ships Masterlist Part 3

Update 16/6/25

Now all kind of crossover ship is allowed!

[pascaloverx]

CONRAD FISHER MARTERLIST

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

AO3 LINK

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

final part

epilogue

[mrs-dot-kennedy]

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse Marterlist

Peter B Parker

NSFW one shot +18

Miguel O’Hara

NSFW wip +18

NSFW wip +18

[bluespiderlully]

NEW HASHIRA LINEUP 💙

I needed to make it official: Obara and Sora are canon (they'll get their personal posts and I'll probably re-open the dark academia AU for some corrections at least). Plus, I decided to add some emojis for every character (they're in the marterlist).

New content is coming, we're having a taisho and fantasy AU, so be prepare for that!💙

(Lully's being very dumb lately)

[hotchfiles]

First of all hope you’re having an amazing day love this whole account but would you consider posting a whole must read fic recommendation like put the ones you can re read over and over

I don't usually go out of my way to re-read stuff but I can definetely work on a must read marterlist yeah! dunno when but i have more free time now

also i'm so happy you enjoy my little hotch corner here 💙

[tnofr]

W E L C O M E ⫻ B I E N V E N I D O

about Nat ⫻ Rules

✧﹕Marterlist´s

nctmarterlist　.　enhypenmarterlist　.　&teammarterlist　.　boystorymarterlist　.　ocmarterlist (soon).

[randomfangirlof]

Just found your fics since I was so thirsty for Hangman but I stumbled upon your golden marterlist and now THIS!? Holy cow, thanks a lot for existing! Thank you, thank you, thank you ❣️

Covering the Classics Part 1 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob is happy for his friends, but feeling like the fifth wheel every weekend has gotten old. Anna's main goal is to fly under the radar as she starts work at San Diego State University with her shiny, new graduate degree. She is convinced that the only company she needs is her own, but a specific flyer in the faculty lounge catches her interest.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob hated it when Natasha was deployed without him. He always ended up feeling like the fifth wheel now that Bradley was married and Jake was dating Jessica. Well, both of those were actually understatements. Bradley was devoted to his wife, and Jake was soppy now that Jessica moved in with him. And Bob's feelings on the matter were never more evident than on nights out at the Hard Deck. 

Without fail, a girl or two or three would hit on one of the other guys, and they would deftly try to pawn said girl off on Bob only for the girl to look rather disappointed and kind of wander away. He just had that effect on women. He was a lot better with the written word than with the spoken, and something just didn't translate well for him when he was met face-to-face with an intriguing smile and an attractive body.

He groaned as he watched another woman head off in the direction of the bar as soon as he nervously stumbled his way through a sentence where he tried to introduce himself. How exactly was he supposed to compete with Jake Seresin anyway? Nobody who originally wanted him was going to settle for Bob. 

"I got you more peanuts." Bob looked up to see Bradshaw's wife smiling at him and holding out a cup. Ever since he visited Chippy's bar, he didn't want to admit to Penny that hers weren't quite as good, but if someone went out of their way to bring him a cup full, he was going to eat them. And it was also nice of her to make sure he was included tonight while Mickey was babysitting his nephews.

"Thank you," he replied softly, and she patted his shoulder.

"I saw you talking to that girl?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bar. "She's really cute."

Bob shook his head as he looked down at his ginger ale. "I mean, yes, she was very pretty, but I wasn't really talking to her. She didn't want to talk to me, actually." He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he looked up at her from his stool. "She wanted to talk to Jake."

She rolled her eyes, and Bob kept his fingers occupied by cracking open a peanut. He craved the familiar intimacy he saw when he looked at his friends and their partners. Maybe jealousy wasn't the right word, but he always felt left out of the loop. They all knew something he didn't, and he craved to be on the inside with someone of his own.

"I'd choose you over Jake any day, Bob. You're smart, and I like talking to you."

He smiled at her as he said, "That may be the case, but you'd choose Bradley over me."

"You got me there," she said with a laugh as she kissed his cheek, making him avert his eyes to the floor. "I'm probably not the best judge of character though."

Bob looked toward where she was smiling now and saw Bradley with his hideous tie dye shirt and idiotic looking backwards baseball cap as Jessica slaughtered him in a game of pool. "Yes, you are," Bob told her quietly. Because as soon as Bradley looked at his wife, his expression became one of complete wonder. 

"Sugar! Come here! Jessica is being mean to me again!"

She squeezed Bob's shoulder and then took him by the hand, bringing him along with her to the pool table. He blushed again as he looked a little nervously at Bradley, but everyone knew Bob was harmless. He was the one just drinking a ginger ale since he had to drive home.

"Baby," Bradley whined. "She won't even let me try to make a shot."

"That's not her being mean to you. That's her being better than you," his wife replied. "And what's the moral of the story again?"

"Women should never be underestimated," Bradley and Jake said in unison.

"That's right," Jessica said as she sunk the 8-ball into one of the corner pockets. "Especially ones who have a PhD and tenure." She handed her pool cue to Bradley and did a little dance. Then she reached into Bob's cup of peanuts and said, "Chippy's are better."

"They are," he agreed with a nod and a grin. He cleared his throat as Bradshaw's wife finally dropped his hand. "So I heard the new semester starts on Monday?"

"Yes," Jessica gushed as she fixed her glasses. "And Brian took a position at the community college, so this should be my best semester yet."

Bob already knew that Jake was relieved that his girlfriend would be going to work in a more comfortable environment every day, but it was nice to see how excited she was. 

"You know what I was thinking?" Jessica asked Bradshaw's wife quietly. Bob wondered if he should step away and give them some privacy, but they both kept helping themselves to the cup of peanuts. "Maybe we could put something up on the notice board in the main building, kind of inviting the other female teachers at the school to have lunch together one day? I felt so embarrassed and excluded from things because of Brian, I just thought it might be nice for anyone else who feels marginalized?"

Bradley's wife nodded. "I think that's a great idea."

Bob listened to them for a few more minutes before he wished them good luck as they started back to school for the fall term, and then he excused himself for the night. He stood outside in the dark parking lot for a few minutes and listened to the sound of the ocean before he climbed into his truck and headed for his silent house. 

--------------------------

"Dr. Webber."

Anna looked at the name placard on her office door and bounced up and down. "Dr. Webber," she read out loud again. She had the worst office on campus, no doubt about that. It was miniscule and kind of smelled like stale bread since it was so close to the cafeteria, but she loved it. All of the shelves were crammed with her books, and she could lock the rest of the world out when she needed a minute to herself. She just hoped that the tiny office wasn't a sign of bad things to come after San Diego State University willingly hired her less than a month before the start of the term.

In a matter of eight weeks, she had finally- finally- graduated with her PhD in English Literature and secured a job on the other side of the country. She sold everything she could think of, including her rings, and moved from gloomy New Jersey to a studio apartment in sunny southern California. Sure, all she had in her kitchen was a toaster oven and a mini fridge, but she was on her own. She had nobody to answer to. And she never would again.

"I guess everything is smaller here," Anna told herself as she locked her office door and went in search of the classroom where she would be holding the first lecture of her teaching career. She was too early for the class, but she was filled with nervous energy and decided that walking around would help. 

She looked in classrooms and listened to a poetry lecture on the third floor. She found a really secluded ladies' bathroom as well as a reading nook. Eventually, she and her copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn managed to wander all the way to the main building where she found a faculty lounge.

It smelled like coffee, and there were snacks out on the counter, and everyone was talking in pairs or small groups. She should probably get to know her colleagues, but she also didn't mind the anonymity that came with observing everyone without engaging. She was good at that, and she'd spend too much time around people who needed to be in the spotlight all the time. As she reached for a donut with pink frosting, she saw a notice board across the room and went to take a look. 

The hum of conversation around her was comforting as she read about a yoga class in the quad, alumni night, and a teacher appreciation banquet. Then her eyes caught on a single piece of paper with a plain black font. It wasn't flashy, and somehow it reminded her of a page from a favorite book.

WELCOME BACK FOR THE FALL SEMESTER, LADIES!

If you're interested in getting to know some other women who work on campus, let's meet for a friendly lunch on the first Tuesday of the term! Noon in the quad next to the weird tree.

Anna laughed. She knew where the quad was, but she wasn't sure which tree was the weird one. They actually all seemed a bit out of place to her since she wasn't used to living near palm trees. She started to skim a notice about how to recycle old textbooks, but she didn't get far before she was re-reading the one about meeting up for lunch. 

If it was truly meant just for women, then it sounded kind of nice. She could eat her sandwich outside. She liked weird trees. The idea of having zero men around made it even more appealing. The last thing she wanted was to develop an interest in anyone right now. Or maybe ever again. 

She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the page before checking the time and leaving with her donut. Twenty minutes later, with her class assembled before her in a small lecture hall, she cleared her throat and said, "Welcome to English 205. I'm Dr. Webber, and this semester we will be covering the classics."

------------------------

"You can do this. You'll be fine," Anna said as she walked slowly across the quad toward a palm tree that looked like it somehow started growing sideways about six feet up from the ground. "It's just some people."

But she wasn't good with people. Kevin had been quick to tell her that all the time. He liked to point out that she was awkward unless she was talking about literature or poetry or something from the New York Times bestseller list. Apparently she didn't know how to talk about normal things. Her hands started to sweat as she held onto her brown paper bag and can of ginger ale. 

"Oh god," she groaned as she got a little closer. Truly, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was just two women smiling as they talked to each other with their lunches. But they were both beautiful. Like the kind of stunning girls that Anna was always afraid to talk to when she was a teenager. One was wearing a suit and high heels, and the other was wearing cute brown loafers and some tweed, and she felt like her own outfit looked awful now by comparison. 

It wasn't too late to just walk past them and loop back toward her office and never try to socialize again. "Yes, let's do that." She nodded and picked up the pace a little bit. She could turn left at the weird tree and then maybe even make a run for it. "What are you doing?" she whispered, slowing down again. It was one thing to swear off men, but it wasn't going to be an enjoyable existence if she never tried to make a single friend here.

With a deep breath, she forced herself forward, and then soon two sets of eyes were on her. All she saw was matching smiles as she approached and said, "Hi. I'm Anna Webber. Is this the weird tree?"

"It's the weirdest tree I've ever seen," said the first woman as the other one jumped to her feet. 

"Hi! Are you here for lunch?" she asked as she adjusted her glasses. "I told you someone would come," she whispered to the first woman before sticking her hand out. "I'm Jessica Reed! I work in the physics department, and this is my friend, and we are so, so happy you're joining us."

Anna smiled at how bubbly she was as she briefly shook her hand. "I just got here," she said with a wince. "I mean... it's my second day working here? I just got hired. In the English department. I'm teaching literature." God, could she sound like any more of an idiot right now?

But Jessica gasped in response. "Advanced Literature!" Then both women squealed, and soon the other one was introducing herself and talking about the math department and pointing out a building Anna had never been inside yet.

"It's silly, we know, but we kind of have code names for each other. I'm Advanced Calculus, and Jessica is Advanced Physics. You can be Advanced Literature. If you want." Now she looked a little uncertain while Jessica bounced in her high heels. "Wow, we sound like absolute nerds."

"We are nerds," Jessica confirmed with no shame as she looked at Anna. "I collect scientific journals. She uses math as foreplay with her husband. Do you want to eat lunch with us, Anna?"

Her response came with an ease that she hadn't felt in a long time. "Yes. Please." Then both women were shifting their lunches down and making room in the middle of the bench. Anna took a seat and watched Advanced Calculus pick a carrot stick out of the most beautifully organized lunch container she'd ever seen. She also had a tie dyed lunch box that was charming in a hideous way.

"How's your first week going?" Jessica asked as she bit into a delicious looking sandwich on fancy, multigrain bread. Anna knew she didn't fit in here at all as she pulled a plain turkey sandwich and some peanuts from her bag, but it was all she could afford right now. 

"Well," she said with a sigh. "It's better than New Jersey."

Both women squealed again. "You're from the east coast!"

"Yeah," she replied as she opened her ginger ale. "I grew up in New Jersey. I went to college and grad school in New Jersey. I attempted to move to New York, and then somehow I ended up here." She left out the heartbreaking parts about Kevin, because he didn't really belong in a conversation where she was surprisingly kind of enjoying herself. 

She learned the two women were from Massachusetts and Virginia, and that they both had PhDs from prestigious universities. They were both in committed relationships with naval aviators who also happened to work together. And both of the men loved packing their ladies lunches. 

"Lucky," Anna muttered as she popped a peanut into her mouth and thought about the kitchen in her studio apartment. It was so small, it almost didn't exist. She was almost thirty and essentially still lived in a dormitory. How sad.

"Hey," Jessica said suddenly. "If you like peanuts, you'd probably love Chippy's!"

"What's Chippy's?" Anna asked curiously.

"Eww, no. Don't listen to Jess. Chippy's is a disgusting dive bar on the other side of campus."

"It's not disgusting! He just doesn't clean the floor."

Anna laughed. "I actually do love peanuts, but I'm not a big drinker." Then both women silently studied her, and she could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She'd said something wrong already. Of course things couldn't be this easy.

"Huh. You like ginger ale," said Advanced Calculus as she sat paused with a carrot stick halfway to her mouth.

Anna nodded as she said, "My... well, a guy I know used to make fun of me for being a ginger and loving ginger ale." She gestured to her auburn hair which was clipped up at the back of her head. 

"Are you married? Or in a relationship?" she asked, and she finally bit into the carrot. 

Anna didn't even have a chance to reply as Advanced Physics gasped on her other side. "You like peanuts. And ginger ale. How do you feel about men with glasses?"

"How do you feel about men with greenish blue eyes?" 

"How do you feel about sweet men who blush?"

"Would you ever date a guy in the Navy?"

"Are you fond of beat up pickup trucks and country boys?"

"Do you want to come to the Hard Deck this weekend?"

Anna was starting to get whiplash as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wait, I'm sorry. What? I thought we were talking about a place called Chippy's?"

"We were. But now we're talking about a man called Bob."

-----------------------

Omg omg omg. Okay, here we are with a story for our lovable Bob. Thanks for reading about the Sugarverse. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@smileybouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@sylviebell

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝐷𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝐾𝑖𝑠𝑠

• Marterlist

The training you shared, the long nights of studying—it was all behind you now, replaced by quieter, yet just as intense moments. A something more that no one wanted to admit, but neither of you could ignore.

The moment that changed everything came between flour, tomato sauce, and a promise he made about teaching you how to cook after you’d tried to poison him with a pizza even you didn’t want to taste. So you dragged him into his own kitchen, demanding he keep his word. And he agreed—grudgingly, but he did.

You were distracted. Way too distracted.

And who could blame you, with him that close? Bakugo, in profile, the warm kitchen light tracing the lines of his face, his brows furrowed in concentration as he arranged the pepperoni with ridiculously unnecessary precision. Then he bent down a bit, flexing his back to reach the dough better, and you couldn’t help getting lost in the image. That damn angle. Damn Bakugo.

Then you moved.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision. You didn’t think it through. It was a reflex—a need born straight from the heart.

You leaned toward him, slowly, everything else fading out except him.

You just wanted a taste.

You just wanted to know.

What would it feel like to cross that line? To touch what both of you had been avoiding for so long?

And then—just when your lips were about to brush his...

He pulled away.

Fast. Too fast.

His shoulders tensed all at once, the pepperoni still in his fingers slipped and hit the floor.

And the world... just stopped spinning.

Your eyes searched for his. Tried to find answers, an excuse, anything to tell you that you hadn’t read the signs wrong, that you hadn’t crossed some invisible line without permission.

But he didn’t say a word.

He just stared at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide like he was trying to make sense of what had just happened too.

Had you actually tried to kiss him?!

There was no doubt now.

Bakugo’s heart started pounding—almost violently. He wanted to say something—just one damn word, one stupid excuse, anything—but nothing came out. His body was on autopilot, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t try to take control.

Not this time.

With slow, almost reverent movements, he lifted his hands and brought them to your face. His fingers, rough from training, gently touched your warm cheeks. There was no room for doubts. No more confusion.

He leaned in.

And he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to yours with an intensity that held back weeks—no, months—of restraint.

He had no idea if he was doing it right, if he should move more or less, if he should tilt his head differently… but he didn’t care. Not when he could feel you responding, not when you weren’t pulling away, not when you weren’t breaking the moment.

When you were kissing him back.

And even if it was clumsy, even if it was his first damn kiss. It said I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know it’s you. It said I care—so fucking much.

And that was enough.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[cloverhighfivewritestoo]

Holidays Masterlist

Hi y’all! I put together a choice list from my Dean/Sam/Destiel/Case fics for the holidays.

Fluff, comfort, fun, or longer reads for those who have more time to kill.

I’d Rather Be Home For Christmas - any!reader - 600w - fluff/bit of comfort - Family time is fun, but you’re spent and done. Dean notices.

A Bit of Normal - female!reader or male!reader or non-binary!reader - 1.5k - fluff/comfort - [Y/N] finds hunting life weighs on her/him/them and needs a break. (friends to lovers implied/no mention of sex)

Back Home - any!reader - 860w - fluff/comfort/domestic - You’re half asleep in your bath when Dean comes back home a bit earlier from a hunt. (nope. no smut. no sex. that’s not what this fic is.)

Bridge Over Troubled Water - any!reader - comfort/fluff - 5k - You might not be aware of it, but Sam&Dean&Cas noticed you’re not yourself and try their best to make you feel better. (TW - depression/but written for comfort)

A Day at the Cabin - any!reader - fluff/intercourse mentioned but not described - 1.5k - You and Sam go to your cabin to spend some alone time. - rainy fall aesthetic

Honey - 656w - so fluffy - Dean realizes he’s in love with Cas.

Bunker Maintenance - 966w - fluff - Cas helps Dean repair some pipes. But he’s almost more distracting than helping.

I Licked It So It’s Mine - 400w - fluff/crack/domestic - Dean made a nice meal to welcome Cas and Jack back after a hunt.

The Wrecking Reindeer - 1.4k -  domestic tooth-rotting Christmas-themed fluff -  Dean and (human)Cas bought their first house, in the country side, and Dean hung Christmas lights to make their house pretty.

Christmas Stockings for Dean and Cas - 530w - domestic fluff and light crack - Dean and Castiel fill Christmas stockings for each other.

Pineapple and Pizza - 1.3k - fluff meet cute - office AU - Castiel falls for the new I.T. guy at the office happy hour the moment he walks into the pub. Then they TRY to get their relationship to the next (sexy) step. They TRY. - (Stands alone but became a series! 8 chapters total / 8.6k) 

Comfort and Love - 500w - domestic mature fluff/comfort -  Dean takes care of his working nurse boyfriend while in quarantine for COVID-19.

Their First Time - 1.4k - mild smut -  Dean waited until Castiel was ready and now Castiel wants to explore more of his love for Dean.

Insomnia - 365w - fluff - Dean can’t sleep he needs Cas by his side.

Quarantine Roomies - 2k - domestic fluff - college AU - Dean moves in with his friend Cas for to wait out the pandemic. (stands alone, but see fic for where is part 1)

SPECIAL MENTION A CAS FIC! (a pretty canon Cas, too) Human Emotions - 7.1k - fluff/comfort - Castiel x male!OC - Aaron escapes his woes by moving to Lebanon and slowly falls for the blue-eyed man that keeps coming around his job late at night.

Feline Fine - Dean is a panther / full case fic / vampires, witches and demons, oh my! Dean x female!reader - Smut optional (it’s under a cut/not furry) - 17k -  male!reader - Fluff only - 16k  

A Slim Case and Snowy Mountains - Dean x female!reader - Dean x female!OC (Maelie) - fluff (intercourse mentioned not described) - 21k - A missing persons case up in Canada may or may not be monster-related.

Everything’s on Ao3   And over here for the full masterlist

Happy holidays, fam! Be safe! HUGS XXX