#my fanfiction story

[wednesdayrewritten]

Episode 7 Kiss Scene Rewritten (Wednesday x Xavier)

“Hey Wednesday, I heard Xavier’s working night shift at the weathervane tonight did you want to stop by? Enid asked her bestie “Yeah sure” then Wednesday was off to go see him.”

“Wednesday walked into the weathervane with nobody else there, “We’re closed” Xavier said, “Then maybe you should lock you’re doors, there are some really sick people out there” Wednesday told him. Sheriff Galphin told me about what happened with Tyler that’s pretty nuts, you know how like he seems, you know normal? Xavier said, “Yeah well, you know it’s really made me start to reevaluate things” Wednesday told him, “Like what?” Xavier asked, “About who I can trust” Wednesday told him.”

“So does that mean you’re ready to be friends? Xavier asked, then Wednesday walked closer to Xavier as there faces got closer then their noses touched then they leaned it to kiss each other passionately. Then after the kiss something crazy and frightening happened leading Xavier to catch Wednesday in his arms, she was experiencing a frightening vision of Tyler in his hyde form attacking Dr Kinbott then the vision was over. “Are you okay?” Xavier asked, “I need to go” she told him, “What’s wrong?” Xavier asked, “I saw a scary vision of Tyler and I’m afraid he will hurt us and you better run too!” Wednesday said running out of the weathervane for her safety.”

The End

[theaftersundown]

the holy grail types of fanfic

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[simpee9000]

Katsuki Bakugo who has a FAT crush on reader. Who he hardly sees around.

You're a healer mainly, so you're in general courses and train with Recovery Girl on the side. He only sees you when you're with Shoto Todoroki, your half sibling. (Endeavour had an affair and failed to get custody after some things were exposed.)

You met at a family dinner, Shoto dragging him and Izuku along. Bakugo took a liking to you, liking how sharp you were. Cutting into any detail while everyone waiting for your next word. Bakugo tried to respect Shoto, not wanting to cross any boundaries. But god, did he want you. You were everything he wanted in a person and more-

So after graduation he spent more time injured than not. Making you joke about him doing it on purpose. Eventually you realized that actually was the case. So with a little pushing, he finally caved and forgot about his friendship for Shoto entirely. Focusing on the way you felt against him instead.

Lmk if this is interesting! I'll write a story for it or something!

[thewaitingluna]

I’d like to disappear for a while. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to know anything.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i vote that next year instead of reading Dracula we do a Jeeves & Wooster Book Club. those two never got the rabid tumblr shipping fandom they deserved (disqualified for the sheer technicality of being published a century too soon). we must correct this injustice

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[marvelouslizzie]

One More Night

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes are fuck buddies for a while. The problem is you have feelings for him but you don't think he reciprocates and it just makes it impossible to continue your relationship. Little did you know how much he wants you and how hard he's trying to keep it casual.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, friends with benefits, idiots in love, unspoken feelings, miscommunication/misunderstandings, angst with happy ending, unprotected sex, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.4K

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

It is one of those days when you feel absolutely worthless. It wasn’t something you felt often before but now…. It is starting to feel like your new normal. You know it’s your fault, and it just makes you feel even worse. You let this happen when you let Bucky Barnes walk into your life without any consequences. Now he just has a free pass to destroy you anytime he wants. 

It was supposed to be just fun. Something casual because you know he has no intention of settling down. Especially not with you. Not that he said any of those words but he doesn’t need to. You just know it. 

He’s one of the popular guys in your college. It’s not surprising considering how handsome and charming he is. He’s also talented and hard-working. He takes school seriously unlike a lot of people around you. So when it comes to his free time, he just wants to have some fun, no strings attached and you were fine with this arrangement. You wanted to be close to him and this is the price: Your heart breaks every time. 

You don’t blame him but you definitely blame yourself because you put yourself in this position. If you weren’t so pathetic, you could simply say no and this regularly hooking-up arrangement of yours would have ended. Yet you never said no and he never stopped coming back to you. Probably because it’s convenient, you can’t come up with any other reason. Like who says no to an easy fuck, right? That is what you are. An easy fuck. Still, it’s breaking your heart every time he leaves your bed. You say to yourself “This is gonna be the last time” but when the next text or call comes, you fold once again. 

That’s how you ended up here. Your face is buried in the pillow while Bucky is pounding you from behind. It feels good. Actually, it feels pretty amazing. It always does but this time your emotions are overshadowing the physical pleasure. Tears are streaming down your face and you are grateful that he can’t see it thanks to this position. Then a sob escapes your mouth and you feel betrayed by your own body.

“Does it feel that good, doll?” He sounds smug but you can’t answer him. Not while trying to hold the rest of your sobs back. That seems to worry him. He suddenly stops and when he takes a closer look sees that your eyes are filled with tears.

“Hey, hey, hey! Are you alright?” He sounds genuinely worried. You try to say something but instead, more sobs come out. “What happened? Did I hurt you?”

He didn’t physically hurt you, yet you are hurt. You don’t know how to explain this to him. You feel embarrassed and angry at the same time. You pride yourself on how good you are at hiding your emotions. You don’t want anyone to see you cry. You don’t want anyone’s pity. Yet here you are. Eyes filled with tears, sobs escaping your lips and your heart is shattered.

“Please talk to me!” His desperate tone snaps you out of your thoughts. You try to turn on your back and quickly dry your tears. 

“It’s fine. Sorry for killing the mood. I just…” You hesitate for a second but no, you won’t back down this time. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s fine.” That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “You know it’s okay right?” His worry is so apparent in his voice. “You can always tell me to stop.” What is he talking about? “If you don’t like something or you don’t feel like it anymore… Just tell me next time and I will just stop.”

“There’s no next time Bucky.” The words come out of your mouth before you can process them. You didn’t intend to be so harsh but it came out so definite.

“What?”

“I’m telling you that I can’t do this…” You wave your hand between you two. “...anymore. I’m done. We are done.” 

“What…” He sounds shocked and hurt at the same time. You try to avoid looking at his eyes while he struggles to find the right words. “What are you talking about? Did I do something?”

“You didn’t do anything. It’s all my fault.” You have no intention to blame him. You know it’s on you. He never promised you anything.

“I don’t understand.” He sounds so lost. “Just help me understand what happened, okay? I thought everything was okay.”

“They were, for you. It was never okay for me.” 

You watch how his expression changes into something that breaks your heart even more. You never thought he would care this much but… apparently, he does. Maybe he’s not used to being rejected. Especially in the middle of sex.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” He looks at your face and then around. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

“What I wanted?” You repeat his words without missing a beat. “I never wanted this. This is what you wanted and that’s why we kept doing it. I was just…” You hesitate for a second because you hate to admit it. “weak.”

“Weak? You are never weak.”

“Oh, I am weak. This is why I kept saying ‘one more night’ to myself whenever you called or texted me. I’m weak as fuck and it makes me angry, okay? I shouldn’t be like this.”

“Doll, what are you talking about?”

His confusion confuses you as well. Can’t he see how much he’s hurting you? Is he really that blind or maybe he just doesn’t care.

“This arrangement might be working for you but it’s not working for me, okay?”

“But… this is what you wanted.”

“I never wanted this.”

“You said we can’t get emotions involved!” He sounds somewhat angry this time.

“Because you didn’t want emotions involved!” Your answer comes instantly.

“When did I ever say that?”

His question makes you stop for a second. He never said that but did he really have to? You know how popular he is. Everybody loves him. He has the prettiest face you have ever seen. You desperately wanted to be with him. You didn’t care how.

“Just look at you.”

“What does that even mean?” Is he doing this on purpose? He surely knows everybody wants him. Why does he have to hear it from you?

“It means you didn’t have to say it.”

“How does… I really don’t understand you.” His confusion is written all over his face. The way he hesitates makes you realize you have to say it out loud to make him understand.

“You are handsome. You are talented. Everybody loves you.” He keeps looking at you with confusion. He really doesn’t get it, does he? “You can have anybody you want!”

“Apparently not.” Why does he sound broken?

“Oh, come on!” Your reaction is instant. “You know you can. Don’t act humble. I’m just easier.”

“Easier?” You don’t miss the disbelief in his voice. “Easier?” This time it comes out more angry. “You were never easy!”

“You know what I mean. An easy fu-”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” The tone of his voice startles you. You never heard him talk like this. “I never wanted just an easy fuck. Especially not with you but that was all I could get!” Your head flinches back slightly. What is he talking about? 

“Bucky…” He doesn’t let you continue. 

“I don’t know what has gotten into you because this… what you called it? Arrangement, yes, was never my idea! You were the one who didn’t want to involve emotions. You were the one who said anything more than this would affect our friendship. I never said that!”

“I was trying to protect myself!”

“You never showed any interest to me!”

You blink a couple of times, trying to process that information. What did he think you were doing with him?

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You never showed any interest in staying over. You never wanted to do anything outside the bedroom or wherever the fuck we were fucking. Whenever I tried to take you on a date, you came up with a lazy excuse.”

“Uh… what?”

“I tried so many times, sweetheart. You never let me in. You were only interested in sex and now you are blaming me for it. No. Be honest. If you wanna end this thing, it’s fine. You don’t need any lies. I get it. I knew it would happen eventually.” He’s speaking so fast, you can’t even find any opportunity to interrupt him until he stops.

“You tried to take me on dates?” He squishes his eyebrows together like he can’t believe you are focusing on that part.

“Many times. I suggested study dates, tried to take you on that concert, then that one comedy club thing…”

“I thought…” You don’t know how to finish that sentence.

“You thought what? You knew what I was trying to do and you weren’t interested, so I finally gave up.”

“No, no, no.” You jump from your awkward position on the bed. “I never realized.”

“What did you think I was doing?”

“I thought… they were activities with other… people. Not dates.”

“Why would I take other people to a concert with us?” Oh, he really doesn’t get it.

“I thought… you had plans with your friends and… you were… inviting me as well. Just to show… we are nothing more than friends.”

“Oh, dear god.” He covers his face with both of his hands. “Seriously? Why would you even think that?”

You mimic him and cover your face with embarrassment. You don’t want to say it. Especially not to him.

“I… just never thought…” You don’t know how to say it without making him realize how low you think of yourself. “You were interested in anything more than sex.”

“I’m handsome. I’m popular. Everybody loves me. Is that why?” He repeats your words with that god-awful mocking tone and it hurts to hear. What you don’t realize is that he’s making fun of himself.

“Yeah.” Your response comes out so weakly but he hears it.

He starts to laugh all of a sudden and all you can do is give him a confused look. 

“God you are so blind.”

“Hey!” You instantly respond.

“Have you ever looked in the mirror?” You make a face but it just spurs him. “You are gorgeous and smart. I always thought you were way out of my league.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You are out of my league.”

“Come on… That’s-” He interrupts you again.

“Please.” The way he says it makes you stop talking. “I have been struggling to come to terms with you not liking me. I just told myself, you have done everything you can. You tried so many times. It’s a miracle she still wants to fuck you. I convinced myself this was all I could get so I tried to make peace with it. Now you are telling me you don’t want to keep doing this. What did you think I was gonna think?”

He just baffles you with every word coming out of his mouth. You look at him, not knowing what to say or what to think, even.

“And you thought you were just an easy fuck? Jesus, doll. Do you have any idea how many times I prepared myself for rejection? Every time I called you, I thought you weren’t gonna pick up. Every time I texted you, I prepared myself to hear ‘no’, and every time it did not come, I was the happiest man on earth because I had one more night with you!”

You don’t know when it started but you start to feel tears filling your eyes.

“Please don’t cry anymore.” He moves his hand on your face and catches a tear before it drops on your cheeks.

“I…” It’s so hard to speak normally. “I never thought…”

“What?” This time it comes out softer. You know he wants to hear it because he needs that assurance as much as you do.

“You would actually like me.”

“Like you? Oh, doll… I don’t like you. The word like doesn’t even cover it.” The smile he gives you ignites something inside you. Something you tried to push down for a long time. Suddenly you push him back a little bit and his mouth falls open but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything. You just sit on his lap, taking him back inside you and it slips right back in so easily. It makes you want to moan out loud but instead, you wrap your legs around his torso and trap him there.

“Oh fuck…” His moan is like music to your ears. It’s so raw and unfiltered.

You don’t say anything. Your hand wraps around his neck before you start to move. His hand quickly finds your breasts, squeezing them a lot harder than he ever did before. 

“You are so fucking gorgeous.” He says right next to your ear. You feel his breath on your neck and his lips attach to your neck as if he knows what you want. He starts gently. First, he sucks the skin and makes you whimper. Then his teeth graze the sore skin. When he finally bites the same spot, you realize he was just giving you some time to protest but it never came. His bite pulls a groan out of you and the way it hurts falters your rhythm.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He licks the same spot, trying to soothe the pain. “There’s a part of me…” He tries to find the right word. “...that wants to mark you. Show the world that you’re mine.” Fuck, is he serious? He stops for another second to ask “Are you mine, doll?” He sounds so nervous yet possessive.

“I am.” You move a little back and look into his eyes while saying that. “I have been for a long time.”

He grabs your cheeks with both of his hands and pulls you in for a long, passionate kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, making you burn with passion.

“I’m yours, too. I think I always have been.” 

It’s your turn to show how much those words mean to you. You start to move again on his lap. This time it’s faster than before and it just makes both of you moan loudly. He wraps his arms around your body while he supports your movement by grabbing your ass and moving you a bit faster than before.

“Shit!” It feels good but it also restricts your range of movement and he realizes it quickly.

“Sorry. I just want to feel you all over me.”

You want to say it’s alright but he’s a lot faster than you. Suddenly you find yourself on your back. Bucky’s still between your legs. He never left inside you while changing the position. 

“Wrap your legs around me, baby.” 

God, the way he says it sounds like a soft order. You can practically feel the desire running through your veins. Your legs are automatically wrapped around his ass while he starts to move but he doesn’t put any distance between you. His whole body is pressed against yours while he’s kissing and licking all over your neck.

Sex with Bucky never felt like this. It was always good. You don’t remember any occasion you didn’t enjoy it or reach orgasm. Yet this feels like real intimacy. The way he’s making you feel is indescribable. You can feel everything he said before while he moves inside you. How much he wants you, how much he adores you… The way he clings to you fills you with love. All of it enhances the physical pleasure. Loud moans escape your lips.

“So… All this time…” Bucky starts to talk. “You thought I was here because this is easy.”

Ah, fuck. He isn’t gonna let that go, is he? You should’ve known that. You roll your eyes in response but he doesn’t see it. His head is still buried in the crook of your neck.

“All this time… I was where I wanted to be.” Your annoyance quickly fades away as he keeps talking. “Underneath your body.”

“You weren’t always underneath me.” You answer him with a playful tone.

“As long as I’m inside you, the position doesn’t matter.”

“So…” You try to ask as quickly as possible before your sudden courage disappears. “You haven’t been sleeping around with anyone else.”

He raises his head just to look into your eyes. 

“All this time, you thought I was fucking other people?”

“I mean…” You were just friends with benefits. What else you were supposed to assume?

“Were you?”

“Was I what?”

“Fucking other people?” His question is a lot more blunt than yours.

“I asked first!” You sound so defensive all of a sudden.

“I can’t live without touching you, smelling you, feeling you… I have been craving you non-stop, only stopping myself from calling you every day, just so I wouldn’t scare you away and you are asking me if I have been fucking other people. Jesus Christ, doll. How blind are you?”

You are questioning the same thing yourself, to be honest. How blind were you? While trying to surpass your feelings, you were overlooking his, as well. It’s just unbelievable.

“Doll?” You didn’t realize you were lost in thoughts. “It’s fine if you have been.” It doesn’t sound fine at all. It sounds like he’s trying to rationalize it so it would hurt less. “I’m not saying I won’t be jealous but it’s not like we were actually together.”

You start to laugh and he gives you a strange look.

“You are such an idiot and you call me blind.”

“What?”

“I only ever wanted you, you moron.” 

His smile is so big and bright, it’s worth everything you two went through. His happiness is practically radiating. Suddenly, his lips are on yours, kissing you like a madman.

“You’re only mine.” He starts to move inside you again and you can feel how close you are to coming.

“Only yours.” Your words make him groan loudly. 

“Fuck that mouth of yours. You’re gonna make me come before you.”

“You can do that later.” You tease him while moving your hips to meet him.

“Is that a promise?”

“It can be. Only if you fuck me just a little harder so I can finally come!”

That makes him move away from you. He stands up and without losing any time, pulls you on the edge of the bed. You know what’s coming and it makes you smile like a fool. He positions himself between your legs while pushing your knees on your chest. In a couple of seconds, he’s back inside you but the position feels so much better this time. A loud moan leaves your lips every time he hits that sweet spot inside you.

“Harder, huh?”

“Yeah. Just like that.” It’s so hard to not roll your eyes with the pleasure he’s giving you. It’s familiar yet it feels so different this time.

“My girl wants it rough. Why didn’t you just say so?” He sounds cocky there’s also a hint of eagerness in his voice. You can tell he’s close.

“Do I have to tell you everything?” 

“From now on, yes. You have to tell me everything.” That authoritative tone pushes you over the edge. “Every fucking thing you feel, okay? Every fucking thing you want. I wanna know everything!”

“Yes!” You practically scream. You don’t know if you are answering him or just screaming because of the way he makes you feel. Your legs are shaking violently while your whole body tightens up. “Fuck yes. Please, please, please, don’t stop!” Your eyes are closed while you are riding your high.

That makes him groan so loudly. Even though you can’t directly look at his face anymore, you just know he’s about to come. He starts to pound on you so forcefully, it just unlocks another level of orgasm for you. Both of your moans fill the room and he keeps going until he empties himself inside you. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls out of you and lays right next to you.

“Fuck, that was…” The struggles to find the right word.

“On another level?” You offer to end the sentence for him. That’s exactly how you feel.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “We should’ve talked to each other before.”

“We were busy doing other stuff.” You smile and he smiles back, knowing exactly what you mean.

“I guess we did everything other than talking things through, huh?”

[bonnibelleangelica]

Me core

[celestialwrites]

characters realizing they are in love dialogue + prompts

@celestialwrites for more!!

♡ seeing their s/o interact with children they met in a small town in the absolute middle of nowhere.

♡ “it shouldn’t take losing me to love me, if you really did, you would have loved me right the first time.”

♡ the character realizes how head over heels in love they are when their s/o took over their whole kitchen in a panic bake.

♡ “i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman.”

♡ the character takes a bullet for their friend, only for that friend to realize that losing the character would destroy them.

♡ "why are you acting like this?" "why do you think?!"

♡ watching their (enemy or best friend) walk down the aisle to marry someone else.

♡ "are you going to leave?" "you? never."

♡ character A staring at character B's face, appreciating every detail of B's face, their eyes, their smile, and A just knows.

♡ "i am so unbelievably afraid that i will lose you, and i don't understand why."

♡ "three words. just say the three words."

♡ character A shows up at character B's house covered in blood, "i needed to go somewhere, and all i could think of was you."

♡ "i used to think i was immune to such temptations." "used to?"

♡ character A running through a rainstorm just to find character B's lost necklace that means the world to them.

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[theaftersundown]

how it feels to enjoy storytelling but can't physically put the words down

[talesofesther]

I'll crawl home to her

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Tales of Aemond's love for you.

A/N: In Ewan's words; the only thing that can beat Aemond is love. If you like this story, you'll like my ongoing series too. ;)

Masterlist

Aemond loves you behind closed doors.

He loves you with the way his pinky hooks around yours under the tables, during supper and council meetings.

He loves you with subtle looks and barely there smiles across rooms filled with people where he can only see you.

He loves you when he comes back tasting of heartache and guilt, with raindrops or tears staining his cold skin and clothes clinging to his body. When he stumbles into your room whispering sins against your embrace only for you to kiss the words, kiss his cheeks, kiss his scar, kiss the tears away. He clings to your body, your nightgown nearly ripping with his desperation.

But it's alright, because there's only you and him and the soft light of the candles in your room. It's alright because you cradle his head, fingertips burying between wet silver locks. It's alright because you whisper forgiveness into his ears, even if he feels undeserving.

And maybe war is now inevitable, but for a fraction of a moment, Aemond feels entirely at peace.

He loves you when you watch him from afar and notice the stiffness of his shoulders, the tapping of his fingers on the table. And then you'll find an excuse to call his name and get him away from the crowds, asking for some help with something mundane. You lace your fingers together, loose and yet so present. You take a familiar route through a lone hallway, you open the doors to the library hidden away in the confines of the Keep, pull him in, and close it again.

Aemond falls to you, his forehead is leaning against yours, his eye is closed, and he can breathe. You feel like fresh air. He nuzzles his nose to yours before asking for a kiss, it's all timid and bashful, he's not sure how to love yet, all he knows is that he feels it, insistent and warm; all-consuming.

But you hold his cheeks, you guide him, you teach him. Your fingers are in his hair and your soft lips touch the corner of his mouth; all delicate and devoted, Aemond doesn't know what to do with this much love, he might crumble.

His hands are around you, all over, and he's almost afraid to hurt you; even if you promise time and time again that he could never. Aemond sighs against your lips, and it sounds a lot like; "I am yours."

He loves you because there is no need for words with you. When he holds himself back from going to you all day—between planning for a war he's fighting alone and hearing his own mother talk of him as if he were a monster—the arrival of the night feels like a reprieve. It's the moment he waits for the most, for he can lay down his armor.

Aemond walks by the garden, picking up a single blue flower. He hides it away as he walks to your chambers, no one needs to know—even if everyone already knows anyway. He gives you the blue flower, with pink on his cheeks; he feels like a young boy in love—perhaps he is.

You kiss him, sweet and soft and tasting like the blueberries you stole from the kitchen earlier. And Aemond could cry, because if he has you, he's not alone.

You're the one who takes off his eyepatch, and then his coat, and his pants, and pulls loose his hair—you brush your lips over his shoulders when you do it, and he knows no one could love him the way you do. There's nothing sexual about it even if you're the muse of all his desires. He simply lays with you in bed, his head on your chest, and you trace the outlines of his body as you speak about your day. There are goosebumps on his skin, and he loves to hear you speak, about anything and everything, it soothes his troubled soul.

It's quiet, and Aemond falls asleep with the feeling of you braiding his hair. It'll be a little curly in parts when morning comes. He never minds it.

And he loves you with the way he won't be able to speak the three words. But he'll trace and kiss them on your skin every single night. And you understand, because you always say them back.

He loves you because of the way you sometimes hold the tip of his fingers with yours behind your backs.

He loves you with the way he'll threaten death to anyone who looks at you wrong.

He loves you with the way he could burn the whole world and yet not let a single flame touch your skin.

He loves you because you'll kiss his lips even if he tastes of blood and war.

He loves you because you'll hold his pieces together when everyone else is trying to tear him apart.

He loves you because even in the darkest of days, you're always there in the end.

He loves you because even if you exchange nothing but glances when amidst other people, you'll embrace his very soul in private.

He loves you because you wait with bathed breath when he takes Vhagar to the skies, and never think twice about mounting on a horse to gallop towards the woods outside of King's Landing when you spot the dragon's large silhouette bringing him back.

You jump from the white horse, Aemond jumps from Vhagar, and you meet each other in the middle. He holds you close in a needy embrace, as if each minute could be the last. And when you pull back, you don't ask questions or make demands, you simply run your thumbs over his cheekbones and breathe easiness into his skin. The feeling of you is always like coming home.

Amidst a world of war, you're a safe haven.

He loves you because you are the one who taught him what love feels like.

Aemond loves you behind closed doors. Wholly, truly, passionately. And with all of him that no one else is allowed to see.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Aemond's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[dannyphannypack]

some people go to college to make more money. i go to college to write more danny phantom fanfiction. we are not the same

[simpee9000]

See, Katsuki Bakugo asks you on a date. You're beyond shocked. You're in general studies and have hardly run into him, only seeing him when you met up with Shinso. And he asked you on a date. In front of everyone. Not only that but he continues to asks you on dates, one after another, constantly parading you around campus. He's even nice over text, never wanting to call, but he doesn't have an issue spending time with you.

So after three or so months, you go and confess. You wanted more after all, it's just been dates but by now you're dying for an actual relationship. Things were probably already offical on his side any way-

"Huh?"

You blinked, "I said I liked you Bakugo, and I want an actual relationship. Titles and all, you know?" With his face just scrunching more, you continued, "God you probably already think it's a relationship, huh? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"You like me?" he cut you off.

"Obviously?" you peered up at him.

He shuffles how he was standing, crossing his arms, a confused look painted across his face, "We were just dating to get rid of the fuckin' rumors. I thought y'knew?"

Color drained from your face, "Oh!"

---

THE ACTUAL FIC

[redfirefox-55]

Please guys go read Software Entropy by @clubsheartsspades (I hope you don’t mind the tag!)

It literally destroyed me. I forced my sister to read it and it destroyed her too. I just had to draw something for it because I couldn’t get this quote out of my head, but I couldn’t possibly do the scene justice in the same way as in the fanfiction so you need to go read it yourself

[amkyor]

hi!! is there any possibility for you to do the opposite of the mha guys getting slapped? like the boys accidentally hurt the reader when arguing, whether it be slamming a door and their hand gets caught orrr a shove that was a little too strong ya know? you obv dont have to but if you did, the same guys in the original one would be perfect!

MHA GUYS REACT TO...

READER GETTING HURT WHILE ARGUING ᡣ𐭩

Katsuki Bakugo ᡣ𐭩

The sound of the iron sizzling as it glided over fabric filled the small apartment.

You stood by the ironing board, focused on smoothing out the creases in one of Bakugo’s button-up shirts.

The room was warm, and the tension was palpable. The argument between you and Bakugo had started as a simple disagreement but quickly escalated into a heated exchange.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” you snapped, your voice cutting through the hum of the iron.

Bakugo stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his signature scowl etched deep on his face.

“I’m stubborn? You’re the one who never listens!” he shot back, his tone sharp and defensive.

You glared at him, the iron in your hand moving a little faster than before.

The argument continued, words flying back and forth. Neither of you were willing to back down, each too caught up in your emotions to see the situation clearly.

“I don’t understand why you have to make everything so damn difficult!” Bakugo growled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I’m making things difficult? You’re impossible!” You fired back, your voice rising.

In your frustration, you weren’t paying attention to the iron. As you adjusted the shirt on the board, your hand slipped, and the edge of the hot iron made contact with your skin.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your hand, and you let out a yelp, dropping the iron onto the board.

“Shit!” You cried, cradling your hand.

Bakugo’s eyes widened, and the anger in his face was instantly replaced with concern.

He crossed the room in two strides, his hands reaching for yours. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice laced with worry.

“I burned myself,” you hissed through clenched teeth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

The pain was sharp and intense, and you could already see the angry red mark forming on your skin.

“Let me see,” Bakugo said, his tone softer now. He gently took your hand in his, inspecting the burn. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as they brushed over your skin.

“It’s not that bad,” you mumbled, trying to downplay the situation despite the pain.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, though there was no heat in his words. “Stay here.”

Bakugo disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bowl of cool water and a clean towel.

He carefully guided you to sit down on the bed, setting the bowl on the bedside table.

Without saying a word, he dipped the towel in the water and gently pressed it against the burn on your hand.

“Hold this,” he instructed, his voice gruff but steady. You obeyed, wincing slightly as the cool towel soothed the searing pain.

Bakugo crouched in front of you, his crimson eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort.

His concern was evident, though he tried to mask it with his usual tough demeanor.

“You need to be more careful,” he muttered, his gaze flicking down to your hand. “What were you thinking, waving that damn thing around while yelling at me?”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual intensity. “I wasn’t waving it around. I was ironing your shirt, remember? The one you claimed I ruined in the first place.”

He sighed, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. “Yeah, well… maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I was pissed.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his admission. “Was that... an apology?”

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh despite the lingering pain. “You’re impossible, Katsuki.”

“And you’re reckless,” he shot back, but his tone was softer now. He stood up and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small first-aid kit.

Sitting beside you on the bed, he opened the kit and pulled out a tube of burn ointment.

“This is gonna sting a little,” he warned, taking your hand in his. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, as he applied the ointment to the burn.

His thumb brushed against your uninjured skin, his movements uncharacteristically tender.

You watched him in silence, your earlier anger fading away. It was moments like these that reminded you of how deeply he cared, even if he had a strange way of showing it.

“Thanks,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t be stupid next time.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “I’ll try. But maybe you could help by not being so infuriating all the time.”

“Tch. You’re one to talk,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words.

After wrapping a loose bandage around your hand, his shoulders relaxed as he leaned back against the bed, supporting himself with his palms.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a comfortable silence.

Bakugo turned his head to look at you, his fiery red eyes softer than usual.

“Sorry, by the way,” he said quietly, almost as if the words pained him to say. “For snapping at you earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Wow. Two apologies in one day? Who are you, and what have you done with Katsuki Bakugo?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, looking away to hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

You laughed, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. “I’ll take what I can get.”

He didn’t push you away. Instead, he reached over with his unoccupied hand and rested it lightly on your knee, a subtle gesture of reassurance.

As the two of you sat there, the earlier argument felt like a distant memory.

Bakugo might have been rough around the edges, but moments like these reminded you why you loved him—and why, no matter how heated things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.

Shoto Todoroki ᡣ𐭩

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

The kitchen was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of a knife slicing through strawberries.

You stood at the counter, focused on your task, carefully cutting the fruit into even pieces. The tension in the air was thick, a result of the argument that had been brewing for the past twenty minutes.

Shoto leaned against the opposite counter, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

His heterochromatic eyes were sharp, and his usually calm demeanor was laced with irritation.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just listen to reason,” he said, his voice steady but cold.

You didn’t look up, your hands working methodically.

“And I don’t understand why you always have to be so detached about everything,” you shot back, frustration creeping into your tone.

“I’m not detached. I’m just trying to be logical,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.

“Logical doesn’t always mean right, Shoto,” you said, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Sometimes, emotions matter too.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying they don’t. But this isn’t about emotions. It’s about—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Don’t dismiss how I feel. You always do that.”

His expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “I’m not dismissing you. I’m trying to have a conversation, but you’re being unreasonable.”

The words stung, and in your frustration, your grip on the knife tightened.

Your hand slipped, and before you realized what had happened, the blade nicked your finger.

“Ah!” You yelped, dropping the knife onto the cutting board and clutching your hand.

Blood welled up from the cut, and the pain was sharp and immediate.

Shoto’s eyes widened, the irritation in his expression instantly replaced with concern.

He was at your side in a heartbeat, his movements swift and precise.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching for your hand.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, trying to pull away, but he gently but firmly held your wrist.

“It’s not fine,” he said, his voice softer now. His thumb brushed against your uninjured fingers as he inspected the cut. “You’re bleeding.”

He guided you to the sink, turning on the faucet and holding your hand under the cool water.

The silence between you was heavy, but it wasn’t the same tense silence as before. This one was filled with unspoken worry and regret.

“You need to be more careful,” he said quietly, his eyes focused on your hand.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? We wouldn’t even be in this situation if we weren’t arguing.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you saw his jaw tighten. After a moment, he turned off the water and reached for a clean towel, wrapping it around your hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden apology. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, meeting your gaze. “I shouldn’t have dismissed your feelings. You were right.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten. You looked up at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed.

You hesitated for a moment before looking away from his strong gaze. “I… I’m sorry too,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t have let my frustration get the better of me.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Let me bandage this properly.”

Without waiting for your response, he led you to the bathroom, where he carefully cleaned and dressed the wound.

His touch was gentle, and the concentration on his face reminded you of why you loved him—his quiet care, his attention to detail.

When he was done, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something unspoken. “I hate seeing you hurt,” he admitted.

You smiled faintly, reaching up to cup his cheek with your uninjured hand. “And I hate fighting with you.”

He leaned into your touch, his hand covering yours. “Let’s try to handle things better next time. No more strawberries during arguments.”

You laughed softly, the tension finally breaking. “Deal.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Come on. Let’s finish making those strawberries together.”

And just like that, the kitchen felt a little warmer, and the argument felt like a distant memory.

Izuku Midoriya ᡣ𐭩

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Izuku Midoriya stood in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed, and his expression was unusually tense.

The air between you was thick with frustration, the kind of tension that turned casual conversations into heated arguments.

“I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me,” Izuku said, his voice louder than it usually was.

“You shouldn’t have to handle things on your own when I’m right here!”

You sighed, turning away from him as you wiped down the counter, trying to keep your focus on the task at hand. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, Izuku. I didn’t want to worry you over something so small.”

“Small?” he repeated, his green eyes wide and incredulous. “You were stressed out, overworking yourself, and you didn’t think I needed to know?”

You glanced at him, your jaw tight. “I was handling it just fine. Not everything needs to be a team effort, okay? I’m allowed to deal with things on my own sometimes.”

Izuku’s fists clenched at his sides, but he took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady himself.

“But we’re a team. That’s the point of being together, isn’t it? Supporting each other?”

You could feel your own temper rising, and you turned toward the fridge, needing a moment to compose yourself. “I’m not saying we’re not a team, Izuku. I’m just saying I didn’t need help with this.”

Your words hung in the air as you opened the fridge, reaching in for a carton of eggs to finish preparing dinner.

The argument still buzzed in the back of your mind, and your movements were quicker and less careful than usual.

As you grabbed the eggs and swung the fridge door shut, your finger got caught between the heavy door and its frame.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your hand, and you yelped, dropping the carton of eggs onto the floor.

The sound of the eggs cracking was muffled by your hiss of pain, and you instinctively clutched your injured hand, tears springing to your eyes.

“Ah, crap!” you muttered, trying to shake off the pain.

Izuku was at your side in an instant, his earlier frustration completely replaced by concern. “Are you okay? Let me see!”

“It’s fine, Izuku,” you said, wincing as you tried to wave him off.

“It’s not fine,” he insisted gently but firmly taking your hand.

His fingers were warm and careful as he inspected the injury. The skin around your finger was already red and swelling slightly.

“Why were you moving so fast?” he asked, his tone softer but still laced with worry.

“Because we were arguing, and I wasn’t paying attention,” you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt as you looked at the mess of broken eggs on the floor.

Izuku sighed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand. “This is exactly what I mean. You don’t have to keep everything bottled up and push yourself like this.”

You glanced up at him, his emerald eyes filled with concern and just a hint of exasperation. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I know you didn’t mean to. But I hate seeing you like this—hurt, stressed, or trying to carry everything on your own. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I just didn’t want to add to your plate.”

Izuku shook his head, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s what I’m here for—to share the plate. Even if it’s overflowing, it’s better than you carrying it all by yourself.”

You managed a small laugh despite the lingering ache in your hand. “You and your metaphors.”

He smiled wider, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles. “Come on. Let’s clean up this mess and get some ice on your finger.”

Together, you cleaned up the broken eggs, Izuku insisting on doing most of the work while you held your injured hand under cool running water.

When the floor was spotless again, he led you to the couch, sat you down, and disappeared into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas to use as an ice pack.

When he returned, he crouched in front of you, carefully placing the makeshift ice pack against your finger. “There. Keep this on for a while, okay?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you, Izuku. For everything.”

He looked up at you, his eyes soft. “Always.”

As he sat beside you, one arm slipping around your shoulders, the argument felt like a distant memory.

The only thing that mattered now was the quiet understanding that you didn’t have to face anything alone.

Eijiro Kirishima ᡣ𐭩

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

The sun had long set, leaving the apartment illuminated by warm overhead lights.

Dinner dishes were still on the table, and the faint scent of grilled chicken lingered in the air.

You were on your way to the kitchen, carrying the plates from the table, your footsteps brisk. Behind you, Kirishima’s voice followed, sharp with frustration.

“I’m just saying you could’ve told me before making the plans!” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and hurt.

You turned your head slightly, your own irritation bubbling over. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal, Eijiro! It’s just a dinner with some friends!”

“Yeah, friends I barely know,” he shot back, following you into the kitchen. “You know I like to plan things. I hate feeling blindsided like this!”

The plates clinked loudly as you set them on the counter, your movements a little too forceful. “It’s one night! You don’t have to go if it’s such a problem!”

Kirishima ran a hand through his hair, his usually soft expression hardened by the argument. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Why do you always do this? Make decisions without even talking to me?”

You spun around to face him, your hands gesturing wildly. “Because not everything needs a full-blown discussion, Eijiro! Sometimes, I just want to do something without overthinking it for hours!”

The tension in the room was thick, your words bouncing off each other like sparks flying in a forge. Neither of you were backing down, your voices overlapping in a heated exchange.

As you turned to grab something from the counter, your hip collided with the edge of the kitchen island. Hard.

The sharp pain took you by surprise, and you let out a yelp, instinctively clutching your side.

The impact sent a dull ache radiating through your hip, and you stumbled slightly, leaning against the counter for support.

Kirishima’s anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by concern. “Babe, are you okay?” he asked, rushing to your side.

You winced, blinking back tears of pain. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered.

“Let me see,” he said, his hands hovering near your waist as if unsure whether to touch you.

“It’s nothing, Eijiro,” you insisted, though the way you clutched your hip betrayed your words.

“Don’t give me that,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re in pain. Sit down, please.”

Reluctantly, you allowed him to guide you to one of the kitchen chairs.

His hands were gentle as he helped you sit, his worry evident in the furrow of his brows.

“Where did you hit it?” he asked, crouching in front of you.

You hesitated before lifting the hem of your shirt slightly to reveal the reddening spot on your hip.

Kirishima winced at the sight, his expression softening even more.

“That looks like it hurts,” he said, his voice filled with guilt. “I’ll get some ice.”

He stood quickly, rummaging through the freezer until he found an ice pack.

Wrapping it in a towel, he returned to your side, kneeling in front of you as he gently pressed the ice pack to your hip.

You hissed at the sudden cold but didn’t pull away, the pain already beginning to dull. “Thanks,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Kirishima sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to get so worked up. I just… I hate fighting with you.”

You looked down at him, his crimson eyes filled with sincerity. “I’m sorry too,” you admitted. “I should’ve talked to you about the dinner. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I overreacted. I know you weren’t trying to. I just… I like being included, you know?”

“I get it,” you said, reaching out to brush a hand through his hair. “And I’ll try to be better about that. I promise.”

Kirishima leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. “And I’ll try not to blow up over little things. We’re a team, right?”

“Always,” you said, a smile finally breaking through the tension.

He stood, helping you to your feet as well. “Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you comfortable on the couch. I’ll clean up the kitchen tonight.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as he guided you out of the kitchen. “You’re really trying to make up for this, huh?”

“Damn right I am,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I screwed up, and I’m not letting you think for a second that I don’t care.”

As you settled onto the couch, Kirishima brought you a blanket and a glass of water before sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on your leg.

The earlier argument felt like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of his care and the quiet understanding that no matter how heated things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.

Denki Kaminari ᡣ𐭩

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

The evening had started off normally enough. You and Denki were at home, trying to enjoy some downtime after a long week.

The living room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the TV filling the silence as you moved around, trying to organize the tangled mess of chargers and wires behind the entertainment stand.

Denki sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone, his usual carefree demeanor noticeably absent.

A small disagreement earlier in the day had left a lingering tension between the two of you, and neither had made the move to resolve it.

“You’ve got too many things plugged in back there,” Denki said, breaking the silence.

You sighed, crouched behind the TV as you worked to untangle the mess. “I know, Denki. That’s why I’m fixing it.”

“It’s not just about fixing it,” he shot back, his voice sharper than usual. “You’re always leaving it like that, and it’s dangerous. I’ve told you a hundred times.”

You rolled your eyes, the frustration bubbling up. “I don’t need a lecture right now. I’m handling it, okay?”

His phone landed on the coffee table with a thud, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Handling it? That’s what you always say. But you never actually—”

“Can you not right now?” You interrupted, turning your head to glare at him. “I said I’ve got it under control.”

Denki scoffed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Yeah, sure. You’re so ‘in control’ that you’re probably going to end up shocking yourself.”

Your temper flared at his sarcasm. “At least I’m doing something instead of sitting there complaining!”

The tension in the room thickened, your voices rising as the argument escalated.

You were so focused on getting the last charger plugged in and proving a point that you didn’t notice the faint crackle of static building up in the air.

“Maybe if you actually listened—” Denki started, but his words were cut off by your sudden yelp.

A sharp jolt of electricity shot through your fingers as you plugged in the charger, making you jump back and wince in pain. “Ow!”

Denki was on his feet in an instant, his earlier anger replaced with concern. “What happened?” he asked, rushing to your side.

You cradled your hand, your face twisted in discomfort. “I got shocked,” you muttered, trying to shake off the stinging sensation.

“I told you!” Denki exclaimed, though his voice was more panicked than accusatory. “That’s why I said it’s dangerous!”

You shot him a glare, still cradling your hand. “This isn’t the time to say ‘I told you so,’ Denki!”

His expression softened as he crouched beside you, gently taking your hand in his. “Let me see,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated but allowed him to examine your fingers. His touch was gentle, his thumb brushing over the spot where the jolt had hit.

“It doesn’t look bad,” he said, his golden eyes scanning your hand for any signs of burns. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” you admitted, your earlier anger fading as you saw the genuine worry on his face.

Denki let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “You scared me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. “I’m fine, Denki. It’s just a little shock.”

“Yeah, but it could’ve been worse,” he said, his brow furrowed. “I shouldn’t have let you do that by yourself. I should’ve just helped instead of being a jerk about it.”

You sighed, the weight of the argument finally settling over you. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, either,” you admitted. “I was just frustrated, and I took it out on you.”

Denki’s lips quirked into a small smile, his usual lightheartedness beginning to return. “We’re both pretty good at being stubborn, huh?”

You chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, we are.”

He stood, offering you his hand to help you up. “Come on. Let’s take a break from this mess. I’ll get you some ice for your hand, and then we can figure it out together.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks, Denki.”

As the two of you walked to the kitchen, the tension between you began to ease.

Denki rummaged through the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and wrapping it in a towel before handing it to you.

“Here,” he said, his grin more playful now. “And for the record, you look cute when you’re stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re lucky I love you, idiot.”

Denki laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Love you too, spark plug.”

The argument was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of your shared laughter and the promise to face things together, no matter how tangled or messy they might be.

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