#wait I wrote this fic

[frownyalfred]

Times Bruce returned to Crime Alley:

Through some state-mandated therapy at age 9 (didn’t work, Alfred fought hard against it)

To say goodbye before leaving Gotham as a young man (weird, unsettling)

By accident on his first patrol (Gotham is laughing at him)

In his dreams whenever his hold on trauma and reality slips just a fraction (Gotham is definitely laughing at him)

#i just keep writing random thoughts down and sharing them #found in drafts #does this make sense? oh well #bruce wayne #batman #dc #alfred pennyworth #Gotham #Gotham city #wait I wrote this fic #hmmm

[jqnehr]

i told my mum about dr ratio and she called him a cad. so i wrote a drabble about it.

“I told my mother about you,” you say, quietly watching Ratio work away at the papers he was marking. You watch as he circles a big, fat ‘0’ in red in the top right hand corner of the paper, before putting it aside. He looked up at you. “And what did she say?”

You pause, dropping your gaze to the table top, unsure of how to go about this. "...She called you a cad."

Silence. No scribbling pen, not even a sound of an inhale or exhale from the man sitting in front of you. The table top is the most interesting thing you've ever laid eyes on right now. Ratio is so still, you'd think he'd have turned into one of those sculptures he made and taunted enemies with.

"...We...I haven't even...met her." For the first time in all the years you've known the man, he's utterly unable to formulate a single coherent sentence. Looking up, you see him staring at you wide-eyed, slack-jawed, and he looks devastated. "What did you say?"

"I—! Nothing! Nothing incriminating! I just told her that your life's purpose is eradicating idiocy and that you..."

Okay, I did kind of tell her that you're massively self-assured and that you walk around with an alabaster mask on all the time. But you don't want to break his heart too much. And that I hated you so much I love you.

His eyes narrow into slits. "Let me guess. You told her I throw chalk at people."

The ceiling fan's patterned movement is suddenly very fascinating.

"Aeons, woman, are you trying to get your mother to break us up?" Ratio drops his pen and stands, his hands on his hips. "I can't believe it! You probably made me sound like some lunatic that impales his students with sticks of chalk when they get a question wrong!"

"You..." kind of do. But pointing that out probably wouldn't be wise. Fumbling for something to say, you come out with, "I just told her that you need to be humbled! And that I'm...in the process of humbling you! Nothing too bad."

He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation. "Darling, please don't tell me you told her I drop a pillar on my opponent when I'm in a battle."

"I..." Yes, I did. You probably should've kept your mouth shut. And then your mother exclaimed, 'so he murders people!' and you had to scramble to explain that he kills aliens and such, not people. She didn't have a bar of it.

"Wonderful! Now she thinks I go around crushing people with columns for fun!" You had a feeling Ratio's reaction wouldn't be good. But not this bad.

"It's okay, maybe you two can meet and you'll put on your best behaviour and won't call her an idiot." You get to your feet and pat his arm comfortingly. "Treat her with respect, and she'll like you."

He actually looks like he's about to cry. "It's hopeless. Your mother probably hates me now. She called me a cad! A cad! All because you told her I hate idiocy."

"You're not going to...leave me for this, right?" Your voice is small, and you're suddenly very afraid that you really took it too far. "I'm sorry..."

"No! I'm leaving you over this. I just...need to think of a way to convince her that I don't run around stabbing people with chalk." The papers he was marking are now forgotten and he begins pacing. "What does she like? Cookies? Macarons? Apple pie?"

"My mother likes wine and cheesecake," you respond, watching him walk back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in quite the tizz. "White wine. Likes champagne, too. Um...and she loves chocolate. She'll force you to marry me if you give her chocolate."

"Perfect! Well, then, ask your mother if she is alright with meeting me, and I'll come along with gifts of champagne, cheesecake and chocolate. How about it?"

Good thing my father wasn't in the room when I smack-talked Ratio to her. It would've been much, much worse. "Uh, yeah, alright. Just beware, though, you're going to have to woo my father, as well."

Ratio gave a long-suffering sigh. "What does he like?"

And suddenly the Doctor of Idiots was running around collecting all these gifts for your parents. Perhaps it did work out for the better, since now you're sure he's desperate to stay with you.

#hsr dr ratio #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #hsr drabbles #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #star rail #honkai star rail dr ratio #dr ratio hsr #is this a self-insert? nah not really #but yes everything i wrote about my mother is real #i love her so much #she's so iconic omg #and wow 2 fics in one day im on a ROLL #and yes that dr ratio longfic is coming along. just wait a bit longer the chapter planning is almost done <3

[venomous-qwille]

Introducing Noon, or 'New Moon' from GITM AU. Noon was the last Moon animatronic made by Fazco before it shut down- created for a themepark based on their popular childrens cartoon 'Fazteam Cosmic Rangers'.

#Noon #gitm au #ghost in the machine au #ghost in the machine #qwilledraws #he is the guy ever #saturday morning cartoon villain #i love him #will be a long ass time before he his the fic and that makes me sad #but #he will be worth the wait #also yes this is all based on lore I wrote for astral bodies :) #he is definitely an aerialist/acrobat #dca fandom #fnaf dca #fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant

[riacte]

"It's rotten work," Ren says. His tail swishes nervously. He has the demeanor of a sad scolded puppy even though no one's scolding him.

False looks up from where she's placing down mud blocks in accordance to the roads that Ren lined out. Ren's theatre kid behaviour must be kicking in now, because to call her work rotten is dramatic and almost insulting.

"It's not rotten to me. There's stuff I would call rotten work, but this is no where near it."

False places down another block. Ren obediently shuffles out of the way.

"Rotten work is when I'm at a tourney and no one's listening to my strategy so I'm left all alone, but then they use my strategy and we actually win while everyone ignores me. Rotten work is when someone sabotages me and I'm the one left to sweep away the pieces. Rotten work is when someone attacks me on purpose and I'm the one who has to apologise for being mad and pacify everyone else. This?" False pulls out another mud block, "is building. And building is not rotten work."

Ren cautiously observes what False is doing, then also pulls out his mud blocks. He moves a few steps forward so he's placing blocks, but out of her way. "It's still work," he admits. "A lot of work, in fact."

False is nonplussed. "But that's what builders do, don't they? And I am the Minister of Transport."

Ren laughs, but it's a quiet laugh. He pauses like he's hesitating, then he mumbles,

"I'm a lot of work."

Now it's False's turn to pause. Her hands continue with placing the blocks, because that's what she does. Building. Grinding. Helping friends out. So on and so forth.

"It's peculiar work for sure," False says, her tone light. "Picking up your stuff when you spontaneously explode. Bugging you about MCC. Teaching you basic colour theory. You can't get orange from blue, Ren. It sadly doesn't work that way."

Ren chuckles at the jab. "Worth a shot, eh?"

False coughs. "Yeah, like I said, peculiar work. But it's fine. I like doing peculiar work because I'm a peculiar person and you're a peculiar person. But together we are normal. Very normal indeed."

Ren considers it. "What if I don't want to be normal?"

"Then we won't be normal."

"What if I want to be normal?"

"Then we'll be normal. Or at least pretend to be."

Ren laughs. "That doesn't make any sense."

False smiles wryly. "Come on now, Ren, when have I ever made any sense?"

He shoots her a grin. "But you're like the most sensible person in the Neighbourhood!"

False lets the silence hang between them for comedic effect. "... No."

"No?"

"If I were sensible, I would've left the Neighourhood long ago."

"Hey!"

"Just kidding. That's why I'm not sensible. That's why I like not being sensible. Besides, I'm not the one who organised the ministry or planned the roads. You did. You're the one with the vision. I'm just following it."

Ren looks around the paths and his tail wags in excitement. "But you're contributing to the vision! I saw the bits and pieces you added! It looks great, by the way!"

False nonchalantly continues placing. "Yeah, you see, that's part of the peculiar work. You draw up the canvas and I edit in the details. It's like how we did the raceway last time."

"Yeah, but I haven't grinded as hard this time around. Too busy with my permit, my dude."

False giggles. "Would you call getting the beacon permit drawing a short straw?"

"I mean, I was the second to die in Demise, but you won and everything worked out in the end, so I don't mind." A pause. "Also gives me a chance to kill those dastardly withers as revenge for all the times they defeated me."

"Right, it's a lot of work to kill them, never mind farm them."

Ren sighs deeply. "There's definitely a lot going on. Especially those buttons, man."

False glances up. They're both still doing the roads. She watches Ren shift up a step and place down a mud brick slab.

"Yeah, but it'll be worth it. I'll buy your beacons. Actually, you can go do your buttons. You can kill some withers. I'll take care of this."

She can almost hear his apologies— sorry that she's doing the roads that he was supposed to do, sorry that he didn't reply to her messages, sorry that he's the way he is.

(And maybe he picks it up too— the way she actually means "I'll take care of you". He always seems to instinctively know what she means under her contradictory and confusing words. In the same way she instinctively knows what he means.)

Ren softly chuckles. "It's peculiar work."

"It's peculiar work especially if it's me, and especially if it's you—"

False sets down a mud brick slab right next to the one Ren placed. Just one slight push, and the pattern of the bricks align like they'd been inseparable from the get go. The corner of her lips quirk up.

"— but that's why I do it."

#ria.fic #hermitfic #falseren #<- platonic #i started writing this waiting for my salmon to steam. lesson of the day: dont steam a thick piece of salmon. #the big salmon voices in your head are EVIL. thin salmon for steaming #also if this reminds you of another fic that's bc i wrote the other fic. self plagiarism is always moral 🔥 #what if we were silly. together #hermitcraft #rendog

[pretentiouswreckingball]

✯my entry for the @croptopjames fest✯

jegulus | 1.3k | non-canon/magical au

summary:

It was revenge, they say, for a prank they played on the other houses. So if Lupin and Pettigrew got their trousers turn into shorts, and Black got his shirt turn into a crop top, then that means Potter—

“Did you hear what happened?”

“They say it was revenge for a prank on the other houses,”

“Seems like a weird way to take revenge,”

“Someone said it was a new statement for the dress code,”

“Of course those Gryffindors would come up with something like that,”

“Mila from my transfiguration class says someone charmed their clothes to transform into something else whenever they wear it. You know, trousers turn into shorts and—”

“Oh, so that’s why Lupin and Pettigrew were wearing shorts! But why was Black’s shirt cropped? Not that I mind the view but—”

“Maybe the spell worked in pairs? If Lupin and Pettigrew got shorts, and Black’s shirt was cropped, then maybe Potter got—”

But Regulus had heard enough.

He should’ve known something was off the moment he crossed Lupin and Pettigrew earlier that day wearing shorts of all things, but if he was completely honest with himself, his mind was somewhere else and didn’t even think twice about it. But now, after eavesdropping on a conversation of some sixth years, maybe he shouldn’t have been so dismissive.

Entering the Great Hall for lunch, Regulus makes a b-line for his seat at the end of the Slytherin table and starts filling his plate absentmindedly, trying to ignore the sight of his brother at the Gryffindor table, talking animatedly to Lupin and Pettigrew, still in those ridiculous clothes. His mind inevitably going to the person who’s conveniently, not among them.

The thing is, Regulus isn’t capable of thinking of a piece of clothing that would look bad on James Potter.

He has seen the guy practising on the Quidditch pitch for Salazar’s sake. He has had a front row of what James’ body looks like when he leans on his broom, quaffle in hand, gaining some speed over his fellow teammates. He has seen how his forearms look when he grips the handle hard and how his thighs squeeze the rear of the broom when he’s doing a particularly hard move so he doesn’t fall.

So no, he doesn't think there’s a piece of clothing that would look bad on him, he could pull any look, especially a crop top, and that is the problem, isn’t it?

Regulus could feel his cheeks warming at the thought. Oh no this is bad, what he’s going to do if he sees him wearing that? He’s going to make a fool of himself and he can’t afford that. No, Regulus needs to get the fuck out of there if he wants to make it with his dignity intact.

Practically stuffing his face, Regulus tries to be as quick as possible, cursing in his mind at the idiot who hexed James Potter to be stuck with that particular piece of clothing, or lack thereof, more like.

“Let it not be said that we don’t do anything nice for you, Regulus,” a voice comes from behind and Regulus freezes and then groans.

Looking up from his plate, he eyes the pair who has taken the seats in front of him, both looking smug as fuck, “You guys are unbelievable,”

Evan hums in agreement, “Aren’t we just?”

“Wasn’t a compliment,”

Barty tuts disapprovingly, stealing a piece of food from Regulus' plate and popping it in his mouth, “Why Regulus, we thought you would be thrilled by this, can’t believe you’re this ungrateful.”

“Crop tops, really?” He huffs, stabbing whatever is left of his chicken, “And don’t get me started on the shorts.”

“Those were my idea,” Evan mentions.

Regulus doesn’t get it, “Why though?”

“We couldn’t be so obvious and only hex Potter, we had to cover our traces,” Barty says, turning his head slightly to look at the Gryffindor table. “Besides, the others look ridiculous, minus your brother of course, the bastard is fit as fuck.”

“Why though?” Regulus repeats, this time even more aggravated at the notion of Barty ogling his brother.

Evan gives him a pointed look, “You know why,”

Regulus drop his gaze, sniffing lightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

Barty smirks at him, “You will,”

There’s a sudden ruckus at the entrance. The voices grow loud and you could hear some whistles here and there but what actually catches Regulus’ eyes when he looks up, is the man at the doors.

Something inside him is pleased to notice he was right about James looking good in any piece of clothing, especially something that would show his really fit body. James is looking a little dishevelled, but that only makes him look even prettier. Still enthralled by the sight of James Potter wearing something this sinful, Regulus notices a little too late a voice shouting really close to him, efficiently taking him out of his rivery.

“Looking good, Potter!”

“Barty!” Regulus hisses in embarrassment as James looks in his direction. And oh, the way he smiles at Regulus as soon as their eyes connect.

Regulus is incapable of doing much else under the intensity of that look, he wants to run like he had planned before. He wants to hide, not only from James but from the way he feels when he’s near. Pathetic as it is, the only thing Regulus is capable of doing is following James as he makes his way to the Slytherin table.

Regulus blinks hard at that. Wait, Slytherin table?

Before Regulus can process that, James is already standing right in front of him.

“Rosier, Crouch,” he greets them, still not taking his eyes off Regulus.

“Potter,” Barty nods in his direction. “Nice shirt, does it come in men’s?”

James grin turns sharp, “You don’t want me to answer that, Crouch,”

“Okay, time to go, have a great one!” Evan practically drags Barty aways as the latter cackles like a madman all the way out of the Great Hall.

When his laugh fades, James is still in front of Regulus and Regulus is purposefully looking at anything but his face, so his gaze inevitably fall at the only thing at his eye-level, James’ stomach.

There are beads of sweet running down over that beautiful golden skin and all Regulus wants, is to touch it to see if it’s as soft as it looks. Wondering how it would feel under his teeth.

James clears his throat to catch Regulus' attention. Unnecessary, since he hasn’t lost it the moment he entered the Great Hall.

“So, Regulus,” he starts.

“Yes?” He can see the trail of hair disappearing under the navy trousers. He’s having a hard time not to reach out and touch it.

He’s being so brave about this whole thing, someone should notified his mind-healer.

A beat of silence and then a hand, reaching for his chin and turning his face up, callous fingers against his soft skin. The sight of James’ playful smile makes something inside him melt.

“My eyes are up here, love.”

His cheeks get warmer out of the embarrassment of being caught. Not that he was subtle in the least but still, embarrassing.

James doesn’t seem to mind in the least.

“You’re blushing,” he notices.

Regulus' face is practically red at this point.

“Shut up,” he grumbles and James chuckles.

“No, no, I like it,” he says, voice soft. “Red looks good on you,” and then he proceed to fucking caressing his cheek.

It’s settled then, Regulus is living inside a romantic novel where making a fool out of yourself in front of someone you fancy is necessary and crop tops are a thing.

“What do you want?”

“Just wanting to say hello,” James says, eyes softening. “Hello,”

“Hi,” Regulus says, like an idiot.

“Fancy a Quidditch game with me?”

Regulus frowns. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

“You’re not wearing the proper gear,”

James smirks, “I think I will manage,”

This is a bad idea, a terrible one and Regulus knows it, everyone knows it and yet— “Lead the way then,”

James lets his hand drop from his face, and it takes all of Regulus not to chase the touch, but the feeling of loss is quickly replaced with excitement when he sees James holding his hand up for Regulus to take.

Regulus does, of course he does.

Hand in hand, they make it to the Quidditch pitch.

Together.

#well. let it not be said I never do anything nice for you guys #happy birthday James!!! #pathetic Reggie my fave Reggie #wait for the slutty shorts James later today!! #and just fyi Sirius looks amazing in that crop top too #also pardon any mistakes I wrote this last night half asleep #anyways enjoy!!! #james potter #James Potter birthday #croptopjames #jegulus #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #(?) idk

[cringefail-clown]

i think my favourite tidbit ive written so far for cam cafe au is the Hal's Real Name debacle, bc in it hal is a name he got for himself when he first watched 2001 space odyssey at 13. jake first catches a wind of it when dave calls hal "dee", but hals like nah im not telling you it requires lvl 69 friendship and youre at best on lvl 3 so get fucked noob. everyone at the cafe and all jake and hals friends know but everyone decides to fuck with jake and not tell him. its a constant subplot through the story until its finally revealed at the end and i can tell you, yall aint ready for what the name is

#cam cafe au #hal strider #jake english #when the idea first came to my mind i fr laughed out loud #basically dave fucks up: the subplot #im not telling tho i wanna write that fic so yall have to wait #also lil sweet detail i wrote out its that only dave has the privilege to call hal his name #so dave uses a shortened “dee” for him #idunno it just makes me warm inside he loves his big bro

[jbsforever]

Summary:

Jason's had a nagging suspicion that Bruce keeps stalker-esque levels of tabs on all the places he’s lived, so when Tim Drake shows up at his apartment door, it takes only a half second for Jason to level his gun directly at Tim's stupid face and to say, bored, “Give me one reason not to shoot you.”

Honestly, he knew Bruce had a problem, but sending a bat to his doorstep? This is just ridiculous.

- - -

Or: in a scheming attempt to make them bond, Bruce forces Jason and Tim on what should be a simple quest: retrieve Alfred’s birthday cake from across town and make it back before the party.

But this is Gotham. And nothing is ever simple in Gotham.

.

#hello i wrote a fic!!! #appearing from the dust two years later #dc #jason todd and tim drake #jason todd #tim drake #sibling bonding #but make it disgruntled #i said 'one like and i'll romanticize gotham' and then waited for NO ONE #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #emotional hurt/comfort

[onebizarrekai]

guys why does the tag look like this

#I can't believe they actually named him dreamswap sans #HOLD ON SOMEONE WROTE A 180K FIC ABOUT DREAMSWAP?? #oh my god wait people write fics about dreamswap that aren't just like oneshot prompt requests #I don't think I've checked this tag in years #random stuff

[arialerendeair]

Old Town Road (AKA The "Hob is a Horse Girl" Fic)

By @arialerendeair and all art by @amielot (Art Masterpost!!)

Chapter: 1/?

Pairing: Dream/Hob

Rating: Explicit

Art featured in this Chapter: The Circus Posters

Summary: Hob helps to rescue Dream - a rare Unicorn Centaur from a decade of captivity at the hands of Roderick Burgess.

Dream is injured, and severely malnourished, and over the next few weeks as he heals and grows stronger - he and Hob grow closer.

When Dream sets off to return to his home, Hob accompanies him, and the two of them grow closer and closer, until they find themselves unwilling to let each other go.

Will they manage to find their happily ever after together?

(It's me, of course they will - just an adventure or seven first!)

~!~!~!~

(Chapter Preview!)

Hob had done his fair share of odd jobs over the years (and far more that he wasn't willing to admit to in polite company), especially in the last five or so, but working for a Circus was a new one.  Had a hell of a lot of benefits though.  Burgess, the man running the place - hadn't asked anything about his background or where he'd come from, had asked if he was willing to work hard, keep his mouth shut, and shovel shit, and had hired him on the spot when he'd said yes.  

(He'd done far worse jobs for far less money.  Nothing was bad if you could find the bright sides in it.  Even shoveling shit.)  

Now, of course, he'd done the smart thing and set about making friends.  There were all sorts that worked for Burgess.  Some that he kept his distance from (having a few vicious friends wasn't a reason to hate a man, but it meant Hob kept his head down and away from the Ringmaster and owner of the place), but many others he made friends with by virtue of conversation.  It'd always been something he was good at, making friends, and relaxing people as they chatted together.  Made even easier by the fact that he'd traveled a lot and was open to traveling more and working long hours.  

Within a few weeks, he was picking up additional jobs and working in several different areas of the circus.  He didn't sleep much, but the additional money he made under the table helping out each of the different bosses was worth it.  Something he stuffed in his shoes and kept close to his chest when he wanted whiskey that burned his soul on certain days of the year.  Especially if one of the other cleaners or security wasn't quick enough to get away from their... curiosities, as Burgess called them.  

Read the rest on Ao3!

#Aria Posts #Amielot #Dreamling #Horse Girl AU #Centaur AU #Unicorn Centaur Dream #THIS IS THE FIC YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR FOLKS #i am unhinged about this fic #How unhinged you might ask? #As someone who pants'd (ie wrote without an outline) a 120k Titanic AU fic #This fic is so important that I outlined ALL of it #To the tune of more than 4k worth of outline #I am so excited for y'all to get into this fic

[sickvacuum]

“thought about Teru” this “thinking about Teru makes me sad” that, WHAT ABOUT SHOU?? Dudes dad is abusive and a terrorist, his mom left him with said abusive terrorist to save her own skin and to hopefully make touichiro ‘realize he was doing something wrong’ while ignoring her SON’S wellbeing, then Shou ran away and lived with a bunch of other claw runaways because his mom seemingly didn’t take him back, all while he’s burdening the responsibility of feeling like he’s the one that has to stop his dad and keep him in check. That kid has issues too :( I love him. I used to not but now I’m obsessed

#Mby my info is wrong but that’s what I’ve picked up about him #LIKE GUYS :(( #No hate to Teru thinkers I wrote an over 100k fic about him I clearly think about him a lot #anyone who’s reading ecology I tricked you btw it’s a Shou fic just you wait #shou suzuki #mp100 #teruki hanazawa #if I’m wrong about shous info you can tell me just be kind or else I’ll cry #Just what I picked up from how I’ve interpreted stuff and from reading posts about him akdhdj

[faithdeans]

make that man find god through the pleasures of the flesh

#wait i wrote this fic already

[secretmellowblog]

It’s interesting how a lot of Les Mis fix-it-fics make “Jean Valjean getting pardoned” the happy ending to his story, when—-being pardoned might actually put Jean Valjean back in a position similar to the one he was in at the beginning of the novel?

A pardon isn’t entirely different from a yellow passport saying that he is free. It’s a notice from the government saying that he did crimes in the past but has proven himself good enough or atoned enough to be “legally forgiven” for them.

To me it seems like a pardon wouldn’t come with all the strict conditions/legal condemnation that a yellow passport brings, but it would come with an increased level of surveillance and scrutiny. A pardon would make Jean Valjean’s past and his crimes “public” in a way they hadn’t been before. The state would know his identity again. Other people would know his identity again, strangers, who could use it to harm him. The government would be aware of exactly who he is and what he has done, and would be able to keep a closer eye on him.

Monsieur Fauchelevent the bourgeois can get away with acting a bit odd and suspicious— Jean Valjean the pardoned convict cannot. If wealthy Monsieur Fauchelevent commits a petty infraction, people might not even notice; if pardoned violent convict Jean Valjean does the same thing, he is a recidivist who can be sent back to prison.

I wonder if that’s part of why Jean Valjean stubbornly rejects Marius’s offer of a pardon, during his confession? He knows what kind of “freedom” the government can offer to convicts, he’s experienced it, he knows the level of surveillance it will put him under — and he has no desire to experience it again.

“The dead are not subjected to surveillance. They are supposed to rot in peace. Death is the same thing as pardon.”

He does not trust the kind of freedom the government is capable of offering him, and honestly….even without having the full context of how pardons worked in the 19th century, I think it’s understandable for him to distrust it!

#les mis #Les Misérables #anyway!! #I wrote this because the happy ending for one of my fics was supposed to be Valjean getting a pardon #but as I started writing it I was like #‘wait. this would actually be emotionally horrible for him’

[bagsyy]

underwater, coughing with my gills

gojo satoru, 700+, love is hard for big dumb idiots

You had your arms draped over Gojo's shoulders; his long hands placed on your hips. He leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek, feeling the heat radiate beneath his lips. The scrunch of your nose encouraged him to continue his barrage, smiling widely between each attack.

One to your lips, nose, forehead—over and over again until you were trying to escape his grasp. He continued to attack any piece of skin he could reach, eliciting the loudest giggles he had ever gotten out of you.

“Tell me when you’re ready to give up,” he chuckled. Another kiss, this time placed gently on the corner of your mouth. Before he could migrate to a different part of your face, you uttered something that stopped him in his tracks.

“I’m sorry—it’s just—what did you say?”

“That I love you,” you said with a quirk of your eyebrow.

“Come again?”

“I said I love you, pretty boy. I’ll tell you one more time if that’ll help.”

The room became thick with silence and the four walls that contained them began to feel more and more constricting. You felt his grip loosen from around you. You had always gotten the impression from him that commitment was a concept that came with an uneasy feeling. You both knew that what the two of you had wasn’t something that was promised. That there might be one night that he doesn’t come home despite how many times he’s promised you that he’s the strongest. Because Satoru knows that he wasn’t blessed with the ability to love freely despite being so full of it. Admitting that he loved you was giving the universe permission to take you away from him. 

But you’d known that you’ve loved him for a while now—there was just never an opportune time to say it, and this moment seemed perfect (to you, at least). You had never been one to hold back, but with him you found herself mulling over your words a bit more carefully. There had been many times where those three words sat on the edge of your tongue, waiting to spill over, desperate for the dam to break. Now it had been broken, and Gojo was drowning.

You tried your hardest to conceal the defeated expression on your face as your grin melted into a muddled mess of regret, but it was clear to see. He swore he had never seen your eyes dim this dark until now.

Your face was burning and you had lost any feeling that you had in your limbs. You cleared your throat before you spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Satoru. That was so stupid I—” you retracted your hands from their place around his neck, bringing them up to your ears to fidget with the jewelry adorning them, a nervous habit that you were sure he was going to tease you about later.

“You don’t have to say it back. If that’s not how you feel, then—”

Gojo was uncharacteristically silent for someone who always seemed to have a witty remark prepared for everything. He wished he had saved all the unnecessary words he’d ever uttered in his life for this moment so that way he’d at least have something to say. Better to say the wrong thing than nothing at all, he supposed.

Say something. Say something, say something, say something.

Finally, the words bubbled up from deep within his chest and tumbled out of his mouth.

“No, baby—please, it’s not that. It’s just,” he paused, attempting to corral his thoughts and connect them with the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you felt that way.”

A lie, he thought. He knew you loved him. It would take a fool to not notice it. You would not suffer through a bottle of sickly sweet moscato, his favorite, and a Love Island binge on a Tuesday evening if you didn’t love him. Nor would you stay up entirely too late listening to him gush about the little boy he took in all those years ago and how he’s starting to not be so little anymore, how he’s so protective of his sister, how he’s proof that there is still good in the world. 

He would sooner die than admit that the thing that has him so flustered is that he wanted to say it first.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #my comeback era #this is so old this is from yearsss ago #this was originally a very rough draft of a tahnorra fic i wrote down in my western civ google doc.... #and i was clearing out my drive the other day and said wait a MINUTE! #so if there are grammar issues im sorry it was written by me (an idiot) and proofread by leah (a bimbo) #anyways i love u all kisses mwah

[johnnystorms]

avengers twilight!steve, on regrets, memories and tony stark. written post-avengers twilight #002. stevetony.

Steve has a lot of regrets. Tony—not the real one, the best friend he lost on the day he lost everything, but the one he keeps in his head, his mind’s best attempt at a ghost of the person he misses most—says that’s inevitable, living as long as Steve has.

C’mon, Cap, he says, smiling that way his Tony used to: eyes as bright as the future he was always talking about, everything in him shining. Or maybe that’s just how he looked to Steve, young enough back then to not yet have blinked the stars from his eyes. You live long enough, you run the risk of anything outweighing the good memories. His smile fades, not enough to disappear, but to become something smaller, quieter. Tinged with something requiring care. Do me a favour, handsome. Try not to let that happen to you.

Steve doesn’t like disappointing Tony Stark, not even the one dreamed up inside his head, but he thinks it might be too late on that front.

If someone asked for a list of regrets, he’d have to give that wry, hoarse laugh that makes him sound as old as he feels, and say, Nobody has time to listen to all that. If someone had asked Tony, he’d have a breathtakingly clever quip or an outpouring of guilt, depending on his mood, and who had asked. If it had been Steve, maybe both. Matt would have thought about it, long and hard, and disappeared to a confession booth. Peter – Jessica – Logan – Carol – all of them, he thinks, would have their own laundry list of hauntings, justified or otherwise.

That’s the name of the game, he thinks. You have to take the wins for what they are, but it doesn’t make the losses any lighter to bear. Steve’s posture isn’t what it used to be, even with the Defenders’ replicated super soldier serum in his veins, but his shoulders were shaking under the crushing weight of all his mistakes long before his age caught up to his body.

Janet isn’t here anymore to ask, but he doesn’t know what she’d say. It’s not that he thinks she has no regrets—even outside of the hero business, that’s a tall order for anyone—so much as that’s not how he remembers her. When he thinks of Janet van Dyne, he thinks of her deft fingers readjusting the lapel of the suit she designed and Tony cajoled him into; he thinks of her tinkling laugh almost being swallowed up by Thor’s booming one, the two of them bent double at the disgruntled expression Clint was shooting their way one golden night back when the world knew what heroes were meant to be; and he thinks of her clever, smiling mouth, and the way nobody could ever resist smiling right back. Steve had been no exception.

He misses it so fiercely it burns. Jan’s smile and Thor’s relentless steadiness and even Peter’s terrible jokes as he chased the Human Torch around the city. Carol’s quick fists and Jessica’s quick thinking and Natasha’s quick draw, and the time the three of them had a punch-up contest with the Thing that ended in an exasperated Tony footing the bill to the city and Johnny cackling as Sue dressed down Ben for his part in it. Luke’s laughter as he slung his arm over Danny’s shoulder and Jessica Jones taking photos of the two of them and Logan and Bobbi in the corner, trading tales of Hawkeye’s Greatest Hits: Indecent Exposure edition.

And Tony—always, always Tony. The press of him against Steve’s side, a reassuring line of heat, like, hey, you’re not alone anymore. You’re not cold anymore. You have a team. You have me. His tired eyes and easy smile and razor-sharp wit, even half-dead on his feet. The late nights where Steve coaxed him out of his lab with a hot drink and the promise of conversation, the early mornings where Steve would wear a worried frown and say, you should really sleep more, Tony, and Tony would grin at him and say, and give up these early mornings where you bring me coffee and those big blue eyes of yours? Never, and Steve would sigh, but there would be something fond tugging at the corner of his lips, and Tony would look all pleased with himself, animated in a way no caffeine fix could ever cause, and Steve would want—

Steve swallows.

You’re drifting, baby. It’s Jan’s voice, that classic combination of fond amusement and concern that Clint used to perk up at being addressed with and Tony used to call the van Dyne special, all those years ago. God, Steve misses them all. He aches with wanting. You’re drifting. Bring it back home, Steve. Start with the most important bit. Let’s take it from the top.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore. It is not a new fact, a new thought, but every time, it hits him like a concrete block to the ribs.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore, but Steve Rogers breathes in, and thinks about it anyway. Take it from the top. The most important things.

How the tables turn, Tony says. He’s the only one Steve keeps. All his other ghosts flit in and out of his head, coming and going like the tides, but Tony is the forever haunting. The only one his mind holds onto on a permanent basis. D’you remember, oh, all the way back near the start -- one time you asked me if it got exhausting, thinking so much.

Steve remembers. Steve has never forgotten anything Tony Stark gave him, be it physical or a vow or just the smallest memory that wasn’t intended as a secret but became one in Steve’s desperate hands. The world has taken so much from him, from all of them, ever since H-day. He can’t talk about Tony, because what if the world takes that from him too?

How the tables turn, Tony says again, soft in that way most people didn’t believe Tony Stark could be. Steve knew, though. Steve’s always known. You look exhausted, Steve. Don’t let it be so big. Just -- right now, right at this moment. What’s the call, Cap?

That was what Tony had said that day, Steve remembers. The world was on fire, and about to become a whole lot colder, and they didn’t know that, didn’t know anything about what was to come, just that this was it, this was the moment, this was the do or die, and Tony had stood at his shoulder, the armour a familiar comfort against Steve’s side, and asked, What’s the call, Cap?

An itemised list of all of Steve Rogers’ regrets would take too long, and a ranked list of all time would be impossible to decide upon when Steve has such a long memory and even longer history.

So, in its stead, Steve thinks, he’ll give Tony the right now.

STEVE ROGERS’ TOP THREE REGRETS RIGHT AT THIS VERY MOMENT, 0142HRS, DEC 31 20XX, COUNTING DOWN:

3. Rosa. He’d deserved the slap. He’d deserved a lot of things, really. He’d had good years with Rosa; years of her no-nonsense love, of her careful hands, of the way she looked at him in the quiet of the night with all the warmth their little home could hold, like she still saw something worth believing in him. Maybe she did. He thinks she probably did. His wife was a lot of things, most of them good, but above all else, she was never a liar.

He’s sorry he blew up her life. He’s sorrier about that than the fact he blew up their life together, but that’s always the way it goes with him, isn’t it? There’s nothing he’s felt he had to keep more than the shield. It’s not that they matter less to him—God help him, but it’s not about the love. There’s never been a lack of love—but to his bones, to his core, he’s always been the guy who wants to stand up and help. If the fight needs to be had, he’s going to stand there, fists up, no matter who he is, no matter how old he is. No matter how super he is.

He knew that about himself a long time ago. Maybe if he’d stopped pretending that had changed, Rosa wouldn’t be stuck here now.

2. It’s a little one, in the scheme of things, but it also feels more important than almost anything else at this moment. He wishes he’d touched Matt, that last time they saw each other. Gone are the days where Steve would clasp his friends by the hand, something lost to time and loneliness and gradually brittled bones, but he wishes desperately that he’d clasped his hand to Matt’s shoulder one last time. Just a moment. Just enough for some phantom warmth on his palms, a tangible ghost of Daredevil, not just something dreamed up by his mind in the moments when losing almost everyone he’s ever trusted is insurmountable.

1. He doesn’t know where to begin with this one. H-day. The way it went down. Peter bleeding out in front of him. James Stark growing up without his parents, the best of them both twisted into something Steve can’t look at directly without feeling hopeless, helpless. Clint’s arrow snapped in half, a crater where the Thing should be. His last sight of Reed Richards, stretching further than he’d ever seen before as he reached out desperately towards his wife. Tony’s voice in his ear: what’s the call, Cap?

And that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? His biggest regret. This one, he suspects wouldn’t change even if it was an all-time list. Tony Stark, the vibrant, blaring truth of him. Something Steve misses so desperately that when the world forced him to live without him, he made up a version of him to keep in his head forever.

It’s more similar to #2 than he thought. He has so many regrets, and so many of them are about Tony Stark—about that day, about missing people, about loving people and losing them because of the fight, whether they were lost in the fight or he left them behind to join it—but more than anything, he thinks he misses the feeling of Tony’s hand in his, pulling him in close, arm going around Steve’s shoulder to draw him into a hug.

I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you, Tony says, years ago, so far away from this moment that it might as well have been another world, and Steve, old and jaded and lonely and tired and missing the person he loves best so fiercely it aches in his lungs, thinks, You and me both, Tony. You and me both.

You and me. You and me. You and me.

-

(When the dossier falls open in front of him, with a blueprint of a tank and photos of him—photos of Tony, and even Tony in pieces makes Steve ache with something he thought had long been buried—spill out, let’s get it from the world’s smartest man, Tony Stark echoing in his ears—

Steve, for a moment, wants to throw up.

Then his jaw sets.

All right, Tony, he thinks. He doesn’t know if he’s addressing the ghost in his head, or the one in the tank, or some nebulous third thing, a Hail Mary thrown to the universe, some last passage of faith he thought he’d forgotten. What’s the call? You and me. That’s the call. I’m getting you out of there.

I’m bringing you home.)

#stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers twilight #stony fic #read av twilight 2. talked to 616 s/t server abt it. wrote this on and off at work that day bc i keep thinking abt steve in it lol #can't wait for this to all be jossed in issue 3 LMAO #jane writes sometimes #you gave me a home #apparently this is 1.9k which is probably excessive for a tumblr ficlet but in my defence this was just meant to be the list

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 💖

here's another tiny snippet of the christmas fic - i'm done with the sad part, now only fluff haha - just one and a half scenes and it's gonna be done just in time for christmas (also, I might have gotten a new idea for a christmas fic, where they decorate a tree - I wanted it here but it didn't happen and can't fit it in lol so that might also be in the works once this one is done haha - no promises tho, who knows lol)

prev snippet | moodboard

___

“What’s- Christmas is tomorrow.” Buck points out with a small chuckle, but he tentatively takes the box. He glances at the tree in the corner, with a pile of gifts underneath, that they decorated together just a few days ago, after buying it together as well. It was the most domestic thing, and Eddie was dying to lean in and kiss Buck, or grab his hand, or just do anything, his feelings trying to leak out of him in any and all ways. Soon he’ll be able to shout it from the rooftops if he wants to. Hopefully.

“Yeah, but I wanted to give you one of your gifts a bit earlier.” Eddie scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Open it.” he adds excitedly when Buck’s just standing there, looking at the box. 

“Why am I the only one opening a gift early? What about you guys?” his frown deepens.

“Don’t worry about us, this is about you. Please?” he waves the question off, because it’ll all make sense in a minute.

“Just open it, Buck.” Christopher chimes in, excitement in his tone. Buck looks at him and his smile melts into fondness.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @weewootruck @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @giddyupbuck @exhuastedpigeon @buckaroosheart @king-buckley @disasterbuckdiaz @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @hoodie-buck @spotsandsocks @jeeyuns @steadfastsaturnsrings @daffi-990 @callmenewbie @hippolotamus @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

#tease tidbit tuesday #buddie christmas fic #fic snippet #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #wikiangela writes #my writing #my wips #i accidentally involved chris in the love confession and wanted to change that but tbh i kinda love this #wrote smth like 'he wanted to be in the room to make sure eddie doesn't chicken out' and i find this concept funnier than it probably is lo #also i guess it'd be cute to have both of them assure buck they're a family the way buck wants them to be haha #idk im excited for this and can't wait to share once its done

[haerieee]

{ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ʰᵃᵗᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰʸ, ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ }

y/n stared confused and a little annoyed at her seatmate who refused to take part in their paired project.

"nah, im tired"

"but we have to finish this"

"yea yea just do your part then send it to me, i'll do it at home"

karma rested his head in his arms on the table, facing away from her. seriously what did y/n even do? all she did was become his seatmate by luck and occasionally ask him math questions because he's smart. so why did he have to be so hostile?

"okay.."

he made y/n so uncomfortable. She admits she did have a crush on the redhead but has said nothing and done nothing to him about it, making his coldness much harsher on her.

-

during their pe lessons, karasuma made seatmates partner up to spar with each other.

y/n glanced at karma, and he glanced back before looking away and walking out of the field to skip the class.

"did both of you get into an argument?"

nagisa asked, knowing his friend was not the type to be so cold to someone without a reason. sure karma can be unfriendly and aggressive to people, but it was to those who did or said something bad.

"no he just hates me for breathing"

y/n sighs and rolls her eyes before asking if she could spar with another person.

-

"why would you pull that off?!"

karma is angry, but y/n was confused, was he angry at her for trying to defend their group when they got attacked by students who are much bigger and older than them? or did he have some grand plan and she fucked it up?

"akabane i-"

"what if you got seriously hurt? you wouldn't even stand a chance against those guys!"

he gripped your shoulders tightly.

"then what should i have done? you were getting kicked!"

you smacked his hands away and got up, brushing the dirt off your skirt. you looked over to your elbow which got scrapped when the students shoved you and winced a little at the pain.

"you're really a fucking idiot you know that."

karma held your arm to look at your wound, then poured water to disinfect it. y/n took the bottle out of his hand and stepped back.

"i can do it by myself, after all, you don't want to waste your time with a fucking idiot you hate."

karma was stunned, he knew he was an ass to her these past few weeks but she thought he hated her?

"what are you even saying y/n, since when have i hated you?"

y/n looked at karma incredulously

"don't give me that bullshit, you were so cold to me when i did nothing to you."

he was cold to her he knows, he was trying to avoid her. why? because he felt something with her, something foreign, fuzzy and warm. whenever he was with her his heart would like someone squeezed the life out of it. it was so annoying but he was always addicted, so he avoided her to stop what he was feeling.

karma sighed, "i don't hate you. really. its just,,"

he looks away ashamed of how vulnerable he is now in front of her. he combs his hair back with his hands in frustration and also to hide his red face.

"just?"

y/n hoped for a suitable answer as to why he had shunned her this whole time because it really did hurt her quite a lot.

"i feel something with you, its so weird, i don't like it."

karma says, eyes never looking at the girl in front of him. he couldn't bear to see what expression he had on her face, it would truly kill his heart.

"it's...ah you know what never mind."

he tries to control the damage that's done, he thinks that anymore he says, y/n would never want to see him again. y/n grabs the hem of his black jacket to stop him from avoiding her, something she should have done all along.

"no, karma, what feelings do you have with me. don't try to run away again"

y/n gripped tightly, feeling like if she let go he would be gone for real this time. she calls out his first name for the first time showing how desperate she was.

"i really really like you. alot."

ah. he did it, he admitted his feelings. it's done, whatever relationship they had is gone now.

"what? is that why you acted like that?"

oh my, karma is so fucking cute, y/n thought seeing his face flush even redder

"so annoying, i can't believe i feel so weak when i'm with you. i can't even fight properly. i can't even focus on anything in class."

karma kept trying to hate how he feels, perhaps its because he never knew what it was like to give love since his parents were always either overseas or at work.

"annoying? you are so stupid. you liked me for a month and you found it annoying, i liked you for 6 months you ass!"

y/n smacked his shoulder, then winced at the pain from her wound, making karma grasp her arm to check it. he looks up to her as he processes her words.

"6 months? u like me?"

"yeah 6 months of always looking at you and noticing what you do, i was so happy talking to you and then suddenly you went cold-"

before y/n could finish her rambling, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her, engulfing her in an embrace. karma held y/n tight and buried his face into her neck, his heartbeat beating too quickly he felt faint.

"i like you, ahh i like you so much, fuck"

y/n laughs and hugs him as tight, caressing his hair.

"you finally admitted your feelings, idiot."

y/n pulls away and cups his warm cheeks, smushing his face a little which made his lips form a pout. he furrowed his eyebrows at her action. karma leans in and pecks y/n on the lips, and she gasps.

"how dare you be so bold now when you were avoiding me the whole month, tsk"

y/n playfully chided him and he laughed before apologizing and then kissing her again.

-

"oh? i guess both of you are on good terms now?"

kayano nudged your shoulder and you smiled and nodded.

"now you have a chance to get him to like you, y/n!"

y/n looked at karma, who was with nagisa and sugino. and then her phone chimed.

//

karma <3: should we skip class and go on a date? >:)

//

y/n laughed, "i don't think i need to anymore, kayano"

after that, karma and y/n disappeared for the rest of the school day to hang out with each other. ♡

ᵒᵐᵍ 2 ᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ 2 ᵈᵃʸˢ? ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ʸᵉᵃʳ ᴴᴬᴴᴬ ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵒᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ, ⁱ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵈᵉⁿⁱᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵉᵃᵏ ᴴᴼᴴᴼ

ˢᵒ ᶜᵘᵗᵉ ᵒᵐᵍ

ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸˢ ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵃˡˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ !

#woke up and chose to write a fic instead of study i love myself #karma is so fking cute omghskjdak #lowkey too sad to write angst stories so i wrote fluffy ones and made myself feel lonelier #do people even read these tags LMAO #future boyfriend i dont mind skipping classes to go on dates im waiting #karma akabane #akabane karma #karma #karma fluff #ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma assassination classroom #assassination classroom #karma x reader