Fwb Gets So Messy With Bakugou Because He’s Not The Casual Fuck Type.

PARALUMAN // KSJ (FT. JJK)

one is the sun, burning so bright he burns himself out; the other is the moon, too cold and distant to love you. sol at luna, both struggle to redefine friendship, love, and themselves

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in love and afraid of losing oc, jungkook attempts to clean up his act to compete with his calm and collected roommate who has done nothing but break oc’s heart over and over again

navi | m. list | ask me ! | send an ask to be on the taglist ! i will not be responding to taglist requests anywhere else !

pairings: 

childhood best friends // badboy!jungkook + oc 

sneaky link // jungkook’s roommate!jin + oc

au/genre: 

love triangle

best friends to lovers // friends with benefits to lovers // oc has no boundaries

smut, crack, angst

social media au + written 

warnings: 

implied + actual smut

name calling, slight age gap, love/hate friendships, slight mention of smol character death

toxic aspects such as: back and forths, lack of self respect, implied violence, gaslighting, manipulation, etc. 

parts: 

50+/50 ( completed 01/28/2023 )

index # paraluman jinkook

i . (10/10) the beginning of our end

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Someone New Masterlist

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

pandemonium

noun; wild and noisy disorder or confusion; uproar. Also: a chaotic situation

Katsuki Bakugou X Reader

WC: 1.7K

Just thinking about how Katsuki doesn't realize how loud his life actually is. 

It's no surprise that the pro hero is well known for being loud, and down right rude to top it off. He was content with the life he had led so far. Sure it had its ups and downs, but he made it work in his favor. He was strong and damn near unbeatable when it came to his line of work. 

One of the aspects he hated about his job was the way people looked into his success and failures. Picking through the wreckage of his battles with a fine tooth comb until the paparazzi had something to stalk him about that week. Worming their way into a closed off scene to get the first pictures of the wreckage he managed to leave behind. 

Thye were loud.

Following him foolishly from each scene of battle, all the way back to the agency. And sometimes either the extremely brave, and mostly stupid one trying to follow him home. 

And tonight was no exception. 

He left quite a but of damage to the two blocks of the city he fought in. Damages ranged from broken windows to demolished cars. And a small army of paparazzi and reporters were attempting to follow him as he left the agency for the night. 

It bothered him more than it normally would tonight. Had him barking and yelling insults as the cameras flashed and reporters yelled questions. He was faster, just enough to put a block of distance between them when he spotted a cracked door to the library. 

He took his chance and rushed the door and closed it behind him. Resting his back against the wall keeping a lookout for the crowd to pass by. He could hear their voices and see the lights as they rushed by, a small breath of relief left him as he managed to escape just in time. 

"I'm sorry sir, but the library is closed." Your soft voice rings out in the silence. 

Almost comically slow he turns his head and sees you standing just at the main entrance, with a large stack of heavy books in your hands. Looming taken back by the massive pro standing in your workplace. 

But he also notices the way your struggling to keep the heavy load in your arms. And it's calling out to his base hero instincts to help a civilian out. Not taking longer than a moment to huff and stride over to you and take the books from your hands. 

"Gonna throw yer back out trying to carry that shit" He gruffs, waiting for you to lead the way. 

And you do. 

Quietly, he appreciates it. You don't try to force a conversation or ask him why he's there. You simply lead him down the endless isles and occasionally take a book from the top of his pile and place it on the shelf. Humming softly as you went. Dragging your hand down the spines of the books, double checking you were in the right area for the next book before placing it in the right spot. 

And by the time you pluck the last book from his hands, he feels a weird emotion brewing in his chest. 

Peace. 

His shoulders didn't feel as tight compared to when he walked in. His heart wasn't beating a mile a minute anymore. He didn't want to admit he felt calm with anyone, especially a stranger.

But after that night he learned your name, and you sent him on his way with a gentle nudge out the backdoor and a fucking apple juice box of all things.. 

Perhaps that random act of kindness from you was the reason he found himself doing the same thing a week later. Finding you slowly stacking books on the counter, ready to pull them into your arms when you look over and see him.

"Oh, hello again!" You spoke softly, but the smile you has on your face made him feel warmed. 

The same thing happens again, he carries your heavy stack of books. You hum a song, and he feels lighter than he ever has by the time you take the last book from his calloused hands. 

This time he finds himself not wanting to leave as quickly. Content to watch you from the desk chair as you tidy up for a while. Still happily humming away some song that reminds him of his childhood.

He walks you home that night, claiming that it was too dangerous to let you wall home alone at night. He asks questions, small ones at first. Like where you're from, and how you ended up here of all places. Your likes and dislikes. Finally dropping you off safely at the front door of your home, waiting until your inside and he can hear the lock shut on the other side before he starts his journey home. 

It took him a extra hour of walking, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he climbed into bed that night. 

Those late evenings of sneaking into the library, slowly started to turn into him bringing dinner for you to share, and he eventually started to open up. He also found himself sitting closer to you on the large couch in the back, as you would read. He asked you that one time what you were reading and you started to read it out loud to him. 

It was soothing, listening to your voice. Calm but excited to read him a book he had no real interest in. But the way you read each word had him wanting to hear more. You chipped away small pieces of his hard exterior with only the sound of your voice and the turn of a page. 

He wanted to despise those paparazzi idiots who tailed him after every fight, looking for anything they could use as a headline. The true cockroaches of the earth, as they twist his words and take sneaky photos of him when he looks absolutely feral. Playing up the image that he was more monster than a man. 

 But if it wasn't for them he wouldn't have you. 

Almost two years later he finds himself walking the same familiar path to the library. It looks like the normal crowd of people with the same set of questions and flashing lights following behind him. 

He can't be bothered to outrun them this time though. Instead he smirks as he turns the corner and slips inside the back entrance of the library, walking until he sees you. Sitting in your chair behind the front counter, playing on your phone. 

Your hair is slightly messy, and your shoes kicked off and out of the way. That same stack of large books sitting on the counter, waiting for him. You smile gently at him as he walks into view. It was something he had come to love after all this time. The way such a simple gesture made his heart warm in ways he never thought it could. 

And just like he had so many nights before he takes the stack of books from the desk and lets you lead him down the rows of books. Offering him a run down of your day, leaving him to hum softly when you give him the newest hot gossip with the older ladies.

 He wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

You were the peace to his violence. the beacon of hope he searched for after a rough day. The gentle sway of your hips and the little tap of your fingertips along the backs of the books as you walked.

 It wasn’t the silence in his world he wanted, it was you. 

Your smile, your goofy laugh. The way your arms reached out to pull him in after a hard day. It was were the small things you offered him with for no reason. Contrasting his brute strength and loud personality with something more delicate. He couldn’t help but let his mouth curl into a soft smile as he followed behind you, the weight of books lightening the more you wandered. 

And he definitely enjoyed the way you still squeaked when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his embrace before he plants a gentle kiss to your lips. Whispering about how much he loves you, into your ear.

 He adored the flustered look you always wore when he said something borderline filthy. Even in the freezing cold temperature of the library, he could feel your skin heat under his fingertips. Being bold enough to push you to sit on a low counter and bully his way between your legs. Sighing softly against his neck as he works his hands under your blouse. 

He lived for the whine you always made when you forced him to stop. Complaing that there were cameras around, and the last thing you wanted was to star in an amature movie while you were at work. 

If he could, he would live in the moment forever. In the safe and silent confines of the Library. 

But instead he does the right thing, and helps you readjust your shirt. Guiding you down from the counter and helping you finish with whatever bullshit task you still needed to complete before he could take you home. 

Flipping off the lights and lacing his fingers with yours as you lock the door behind you. 

The flashing lights and yells of his name didn’t bother him as much now. Because As he pulls you to stop in just the most picture perfect way. Making sure the cameras catch the name of the library above your head, he smirks at them all before he bends down on one knee. Your eyes alive with tears of joy once you realize what is going on. 

Pulling out the box hes been carrying around in his pocket for six months now, and showing it to you. He opens it and he can’t help but let the image of you be burned into his mind for eternity. Your happy squeal and little jumps as he takes the ring out of the box and gives you a look that speaks more than his loud voice ever could. 

“What do ya say, bookworm?” He smirks as you are already nodding your head and whispering yes. “Think the library will care if I check you out and never bring you back?” 

*If you enjoyed this little snippit, please consider leaving a like or a reblog. I enjoy writing, and I would like to know if you enjoyed it as well. Your likes and comments are greatly appericated♥

Fun Sized

Dark!Fairy!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You save a tiny fairy. Gojo Satoru decides that you and him belong together, regardless of how little he is and how little you think of him. 

(Warnings: Yandere, not many warnings in this one ngl)

The fae are a dangerous bunch. You've heard more than enough stories to be spooked. Sirens will sing beautiful songs before dragging you into the depths. Dragons will burn you to a crisp before a second's thought. Nagas would make sure you were alive until the very end as they feast on your organs. Centaurs would use their powerful legs to stomp yours to mere twigs. Driders would suck your blood until there's nothing left but a husk of your body. 

You've never heard anything about fairies. They didn't live in your region. Their lands were high in the mountains, where humans rarely traveled. Also, they were so tiny, according to the books. The biggest seemed to be barely the size of your hand. They were harmless, you concluded. Harmless to humans. Harmless to you. 

He had been harmless. At first, you thought it was a cluster of leaves in the stream, but as the current drew it closer, you noticed tiny arms and a tiny face. He was unconscious; you didn't even know if the poor thing was alive. 

The Fae are a dangerous bunch, but saving one tiny fairy couldn't hurt, right? 

Your guest quickly proved to be a bigger hassle than you initially thought. 

When you brought him to your cottage, he laid in a basket of warm linen, asleep for hours near the warm fireplace. The blueberry pie was still hot when you turned around and caught him staring at you. 

It was silent for a while, and then you said: 

"Do you like sweets?" 

That's how your tentative friendship with the other kind started. Gojo Satoru (you later learned his name) was a boisterous thing. He did in fact like sweets, which helped bribe his friendship. You're surprised that he ate so much despite his stature. Did all faires have black holes for stomachs? 

He healed up rather quickly. At first, you were afraid that his wings had crumbled due to the prolonged exposure to water. But after stuffing himself full of the blueberry syrup, he smiled widely before flitting out your window. 

You thought that would be the end of it, but then he just came coming back. 

Apparently, your baking skills left an impact on the small creature. He didn't visit often, but when he did, you would always make sure you had something. Whether it be cookies, brownies, or that blueberry pie he was so fond of. Anything was good enough for Gojo's taste palette. 

"In the fae lands," Gojo said when you prodded, "sweets are too sweet. Yours is just enough."  You weren't too sure what he meant by that, but you took it as a compliment. You were sure the fae wasn't something who'd give praises so easily. 

It's not like you were upset at providing food for your tiny friend. Quite the contrary. You loved it when Gojo visited. You found him fascinating, the way he could fly miles and miles above your head. How tiny he was. The amount of times you had to hold yourself back from squishing him between your fingers because of how cute he was scared you. 

And you hoped you were fascinating enough to entertain Gojo. You had to be; you don't know why else he'd keep coming back. Even after gobbling down your cooking, he'd lounge around your home, entertaining you with his stories. You learned of the other magical creatures he was in contact with, the students he taught, and how fond he was of them. You don't know why he was so open about sharing his personal life with you, in the stories fae hated humanity, but you would never complain. 

It doesn't click as to why Gojo's so invested in you until he comes out and says it himself. 

"Instead of me coming back and forth like this, why don't you just come live with me?" He says, "I would cut down my flying time by a lot." 

You stare at him in amusement, sure he's joking. "I'm not sure how I'd fit in your house." You tease. "I'd probably crush all your furniture." 

"I can make my house bigger." He announces. "Don't worry 'bout it, just say yes." 

You stare at him, slowly realizing that he isn't as amused. He's still smiling, but there's no joke. 

"No," you finally say, "I'm not doing that." 

He cocks his head surprised as though he's never had someone reject him before. 

"What?" He asks, "Why not?"

"Well." You clear your throat. "For one, I'm human, and you're a fairie. I don't think Fae would appreciate a human wandering around in their lands." 

"Who cares about all that?" Gojo waves his hands around. "You'll be with me, anyways. It'd be fine." 

"I don't get why you're so fixated on the human realm." His mouth turns into a sneer. "It's all so boring. Nothing ever happens. And our magic is much more advanced than yours." It's true. You can't disagree with that. Satoru didn't wear clothes made out of leaves or vines, unlike the common fairy stereotype. His clothing looked much more advanced compared to your loose cotton dresses. A black shirt with intricate buttons and long sleeves. Along with black trousers. You wonder what material could make his suit so shiny. 

You laugh at his disgust. At that time, you saw Gojo as a tiny child clutching their mother's skirts, a cute puppy. You hadn't yet taken Gojo Satoru as the threat he was. 

"It's because I am human." You say, not offended by his remarks. "So I like being near other humans." 

He groans as though your logic makes no sense. "Yuji and the others ask about you all the time, though. They've been dying to meet you." 

"You talk to your students about the giant that cooks for you? I'm flattered." 

"You're dodging," he warns. You roll your eyes. 

"Satoru, I'm not coming to live with you. It'd be too much of a hassle." You finally say. "Besides, you're not my type." 

"I'm everyone's type." He argues. 

"Not mine." You smile, and then you make your first blunder. 

"I like my men a little taller." 

He stiffens, and you know you said the wrong thing. Your smile fades as does the cheery energy in your cottage. He says nothing, but he's zipping out your window before you can apologize. 

He doesn't return for the longest time. You count the weeks. Guilt weighs on your shoulders, heavy and burdensome. Every day you bake something even tastier than the day before. Not even that is enough to coax him back. 

You think you've lost him forever, when he returns on one sweltering summer evening. 

"Hi." You blink. He's watching you, sitting idly on the window, kicking his tiny feet. 

"Hi." He smiles. 

You're happy enough to grab him with one fist and hugging him to your chest, but as always, you stop yourself. Instead, a shy smile rests on your face. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I really am...will you accept an apology pie?" 

He grins wider, and you relax. 

He eats, and you're grateful. Something you once cherished in your life has finally come back to you. You might not return Gojo's feelings, but you still care for him. You'd rather die than ever hurt him again. 

"No, you're right." Gojo surprisingly concedes when you apologize for the third time. "We're too different. It'd never work out. Not as the way you are, right now." 

You nod, grateful he's so understanding. "Exactly." 

He's finishing up when he announces he brought you a gift. 

"I've been working on it for the past few weeks," he cheerily says. "It took a while, but it's finally safe for human consumption." 

He takes out a tiny glass bottle filled with something swirling and blue. When he asks you to bring a glass of water, you acquiesce. To your astonishment, when the elixer is poured, the entire water becomes a swirling mass of a color comparable to none other than galaxies. You're so mesmerized by the color, it's enough to stump your voice. 

"For you!" He declares. "You've always been cooking for me; thought I might return the favor, just this once." 

"What is it?" You ask, amazed by the color. You admire the glance, unaware of the glint in Gojo's eye. 

"It's kinda like the wine you have in the mortal realms, but a little less poignant." He gives when you glance at him. "Go on, tell me what you think?" 

You're too trusting, and so you make your second blunder. 

Once you start, you can't seem to stop. The taste is otherworldly, addicting. You drink and drink, not wasting a single drop. You're breathing heavily once the cup detaches from your lips. 

"Amazing." You say before looking at him. His eyes are too wide, but you're too distracted by the taste still on your tongue. "Seriously, what was that? Can I make it here?" 

He scratches the back of his head. "Not really, the ingredients are pretty hard to find." He shrugs. "Besides, it's supposed to be a one-time use." 

Your eyebrows twist, and then the world sinks. 

You're falling. You think you are. You don't really know. Everything feels like it's stretching. The walls of your tiny little cottage get higher and higher and higher. The floor gets more and more warped. You're sinking, sinking through the air. When you scream, nothing comes out. You feel like you're choking because you can't breathe, and then your vision grows black. 

The next time you open your eyes. It's still dark, and to your horror, you realize you're buried underneath something. 

You panic, clawing and tearing your way out. The material gives away easily. It's fabric. Cotton. But there was so much, an undying ocean of fabric. You lift yourself up from the pile and that's when you realize you're completely naked. 

The mountain of cotton you just climbed to the top of was your old dress. 

Everything was gigantic—the table, the chairs. The windows seemed endless. The ceiling looked miles above you, and you know what happened, but your brain can't formulate it because it can't be—it just can't be.

There's a flutter of wings. You always thought he was so quiet before. Now, he's all you can hear. Immediately, you wrap your body with the cloth. It's hard to keep still; your body is buzzing with nerves and you still can't understand. You have to force yourself to look at him.

You don't know why you expected shock, guilt, something other than the pure manic glee on his face. Satoru towers above you, head tilted. He bends down, cupping your trembling face in his hand because he's big enough to do that now. 

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more adorable." He coos. 

You can see him now. His skin isn't pale, it's borderline translucent. His canines are sharp and pointy. And his eyes. Oh God you've never seen eyes so terrifying before—an endless mass of blue, threatening to swallow you whole. 

He wasn't a cute little fairy. He was anything but that. 

"Gojo..." You start, heart squeezing. "What did you do.." 

You know. He knows. That's why he ignores your question entirely. 

"I'm surprised it worked." He says, mainly talking to himself. "Shoko said it might be a dud, and she was so sure of it, that I mostly believed her." 

"But now look at you!" He roughly pinches your cheek. "You're the perfect size now." 

"Stop." You blubber, pushing his hand off of you. "Don't touch me. Change me back. Change me back." 

He frowns. "Why would I do that? You being human-sized was always such a hassle. Lumbering around. Way too loud. Don't get me wrong, I adore you either way." He proclaims like it's something benevolent. "But this has its charm."

He leans forward, and you scuddle backward in fear. His grin widens. 

"So, am I tall enough for you, now?" 

Revenge Is Sweet (Series Masterlist)

~ a Tom Holland Social Media AU

》 STATUS: completed…for now ;) 》 PAIRING: college!football player!tom x college!female!reader 》 TROPE/GENRE: college au; fake dating au; idiots to lovers; angst; fluff; crack-ish 》 WARNINGS: the most cliché of clichés, tropes galore, cheating, pettiness, language, sexual jokes + innuendos, gossips + tea, football ⚽️, not-so-accurate photos, not-so-accurate depictions of college, harrison being a swiftie, tom being a huge flirt, football!player!tom!, flirtatious conversations (e.g. teasing talks & hints of/about sex, nothing explicit), cheesy one-liners, even cheesier captions/tweets, sprinkles of angst, very cute/soft/sweet moments, and long ass text messages especially as the series progresses.

✩ TOM HOLLAND MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

➽ Synopsis:

What happens if your boyfriend cheats on you with your well-known tormenter? Even more exciting, what happens if the Tom Holland—football captain, campus heartthrob, your well-known tormenter’s boyfriend, etcetera—asks you to get revenge on them with him? To put things not so simply, if your boyfriend cheated on you with his girlfriend, who cheated on him with your boyfriend, would that make you friends? Or maybe…something more?

➽ Parts:

⚽️ Intro ⟶ the players ⚽️ Part 1 ⟶ honeymoon phase  ⚽️ Part 2 ⟶ too good to be true ⚽️ Part 3 ⟶ accidental rebound ⚽️ Part 4 ⟶ ️if your enemy is my enemy… ⚽️ Part 5         ↳ 5.1 ⟶ charm & persuade         ↳ 5.2 ⟶ pros & cons ⚽️ Part 6 ⟶ ️game plan ⚽️ Part 7 ⟶ ️let’s start rumours ⚽️ Part 8         ↳ 8.1 ⟶ fiery & reveal(?)         ↳ 8.2 ⟶ real & fake(?) ⚽️ Part 9         ↳ 9.1 ⟶ perfect & precious company         ↳ 9.2 ⟶ ️pregame care & packages ⚽️ Part 10 ⟶ oscar-worthy “acting” ⚽️ Part 11 ⟶ chase(ing) self-deception ⚽️ Part 12 ⟶ revenge is bitter ⚽️ Part 13         ↳ 13.1 ⟶ assist to goal (bc idiot needs help)         ↳ 13.2 ⟶ assist to goal (bc other idiot needs help) ⚽️ Part 14 ⟶ ️for real, this time ⚽️ Part 15 ⟶ revenge turned out sweeter [final]

➽ Extras:

tom asking begging for your number

⚽️ REVISTING IS SWEETER (Masterlist)

a collection of Revenge Is Sweet written extras

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

✎ feedback is always appreciated <3

©️ t-lostinworlds, 2021

‣‣ COR UNUM MASTERLIST | その時が来た

‣‣ Synopsis: A tale of how the Shogun's daughter ends up in the maw of one of the most fierce curse users to ever exist.

‣‣ Cross-posted on AO3 ‣‣ Final Word Count: 217,624 ‣‣ Status: Completed ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Cannibalism, set in Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, mentions of Buddhism/religion in general, sexism, eventual smut, slowburn, dead bodies, descriptions of wounds, era-specific violence & views, dismemberment, female reader, reader is not a pushover, reader is the Shogun's daughter, reader knows how to use a sword, Sukuna is at the start of his reign as King of Curses, cursed spirits, body horror, each chapter will have its own warnings, warnings to be updated/added, not beta-read, no happy ending.

‣‣ Part ONE — Tsukuyomi 月読 ‣‣ Part TWO — Susanoo スサノオ ‣‣ Part THREE — Izanami イザナミ ‣‣ Part FOUR — Izanagi 伊邪那岐命 ‣‣ Part FIVE — Kuraokami 闇龗 ‣‣ Part SIX — Kuebiko 久延毘古 ‣‣ Part SEVEN — Hachiman 八幡神 ‣‣ Part EIGHT — Kagutsuchi カグツチ ‣‣ Part NINE — Kangiten 歓喜天 ‣‣ Part TEN — Shinigami 死神 ‣‣ Part ELEVEN — Tamonten 毘沙門天 ‣‣ Part TWELVE — Daikokuten 大黒天 ‣‣ Part THIRTEEN — Inari Ōkami 稲荷大神 ‣‣ Part FOURTEEN — Yuki Onna 雪女 ‣‣ Part FIFTEEN — Sugawara no Michizane 菅原道真 ‣‣ Part SIXTEEN — Suijin 水神 ‣‣ Part SEVENTEEN — Yomi 黄泉 ‣‣ Part EIGHTEEN — Kōjin 三宝荒神 ‣‣ Part NINETEEN — Toyouke 豊岡姫 ‣‣ Part TWENTY — Amanozako 天逆毎 ‣‣ Part TWENTY-ONE — Sarutahiko Ōkami 猿田彦大神 ‣‣ Part TWENTY-TWO — Homusubi 火産霊 ‣‣ Part TWENTY-THREE — Hanami 花見 ‣‣ Part TWENTY-FOUR — Bishamonten 毘沙門 ‣‣ Part TWENTY-FIVE — The Final Chapter ‣‣ Part TWENTY-SIX — The Epilogue

Everything You Wanted (Zuko x Servant! Reader) PART ONE

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝘀𝗽𝘂𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝗶𝗳𝘂 𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝗿, 𝗿𝗼𝘆𝗮𝗹𝘁𝘆/𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽, 𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝟮

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼 || 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 || 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 || 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 || 𝘀𝗶𝘅 || 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 || 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 || 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝗲𝗻 || 𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

For the first time in years, the room of the Banished Prince looked inhabited.

You swallowed down a shiver as you pushed the large doors open and stepped inside. You had no right to do this. You had no right to walk through one of the royal bedrooms with curious eyes and curious hands rather than a downcasted head and shuffling feet. Your purpose in life was to serve the royal family. You were to worship the very ground they walked on and to cherish the very air that they breathed. Yet here you were, acting as if you were their equal. Acting as if you belonged here. As if you didn’t know your place. 

No matter how cruel the royal family was, you knew that you never amounted to nothing more but just another grain of sand in the Si Wong Desert. Insignificant. Expendable. Replaceable. You should know this. You do know this. You’ve always known this.

Yet, you couldn’t help it. You had almost lost all hope. It was no wonder you had lost yourself within your own passion when you heard he was coming home.

Stepping lightly on the expenses floors, you made sure to carefully leave the door open just a little. It was the same way as you found it- no doubt a result of Prince Zuko leaving his room in a hurry to a meeting that was just abruptly called. The thought made you frown as you gripped the hem of your dress and silently made your way across the large room. 

You hadn’t seen him since his return except from afar. You couldn’t dare to. From the day you met him as just a little servant girl, hiding behind her mother’s legs, you felt the blossoming of a crush within your naive, child-sized heart. But as time grew on, you matured. You grew and grew and grew, but you never could quite outgrow your feelings for the Crown Prince. Instead, your feelings seemed to evolve over time. Shy glances and soft stutters from a little girl that desperately wished for her puppy love to go away moved on to become warm faces and daring thoughts from a teenage girl with a brain bolder than a servant should ever have. 

You sighed longingly as you walked up to the large four-poster bed that sat in the middle of the room. Moonlight poured in the window, giving the ornately decorated but mostly empty room a haunting glow. Never in your life have you ever done something as audacious as trespassing on one of the royal bedrooms. But only in private could you act on your whims and wishes. Only in private could you dream up a double meaning for every single glance or word he had sent in your direction. You could fantasize what it was like to be held in the arms of his forbidden affections. But you were only a peasant. Nothing but a simple girl. You would never see a truth in your daydreams. You would forever have to play make-believe about a Prince who didn’t know your name would one day love you. 

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice how far you traveled into the room until you found yourself sitting on red sheets that held small, beautiful patterns. The bed wasn’t made. It served as another sign of his hasty departure. But it was another sign that you shouldn’t be here. You don’t know when he’ll come back. He might even appear in the middle of your dangerous game. Even so, you could not help but reach out a hand to get a feel of a luxurious material you’ve only washed and dried. The fabric was still warm in some places. Hardly a moment of rest for royalty, you suppose. But surely the Crown Prince deserved a break after his banishment, right? You heard of his noble feats. No ordinary man could do what the great Prince Zuko had done- you were sure of it.  

Trailing your fingers of the fine silk, you froze, drawing in a sharp breath as you realized the weight of your actions. These thoughts of yours were reckless in every shape of the word. You were getting far too comfortable with breaking rules tonight. Or was this carelessness? Either way, this would surely result in your if you didn’t-

“Don’t stop now. You looked like you were getting comfortable.” 

You should have never come here.

“My Prince!” You stood up suddenly, backing into one of the large golden pillars of his four-poster bed. The light from the hallway casted a large shadow across his face as he stood with his back against the large door. His arms were folded over his red-robed chest, and a familiar scowl rested on his face as he looked at you in what you could only imagine being disgust. You couldn’t help but gulp at his expression, heartbreaking into pieces, as you bowed your head deeply and upturned your palms in submission. “F-forgive me, my Prince! When I heard of your return, I-”

You were an idiot. A fool. Deep down, you knew this was going to happen. How could you ever think to sneak into the crown prince’s bedroom without any repercussions? There were guards posted everywhere. The Fire Nation Royal Palace was built not unlike Boiling Rock. A heavily guarded, heavily armed fortress with eyes posted everywhere. No matter how innocent your intentions may have been, there is no doubt that your hubris will go not go unpunished. Maybe you even wanted this to happen. Perhaps you were so desperate for his attention- so desperate to stand out to him that it drove you to do the unthinkable. In the pursuit of your dear Prince’s adoration, you found yourself the object of his glare.

Or so you thought. 

Amidst your mindless babbling, you missed how he pushed himself off of the door and shut it with a loud thud. He unfolded his arms and stalked his way over to you shaking form with a confidence you had never seen before. The time he spent away from his home had hardened him into a warrior. A predator that had spent countless nights honing his skill to be the best of the very best. The man who killed the avatar. And now you were his prey. He was taking his time with you. Toying with you. Enjoying you. Drinking in your very being with insatiable, glowing gold eyes. With slow, calculated steps, he inched closer and closer until he was able to shove your back into a pillar. 

Instinctively, a gasp poured through your lips as the back of your head hit the hard surface. You couldn’t tell if that felt worse than his tight grip on your arms or the ache in your heart. Either way, something had to be the cause of the tears that threatened to spill. The way he caged in your body with his own intimidating physique was suffocating. While the position looked intimate, the situation was dangerous. At this moment, he was both your jailer and escape- a conflict of emotions and interests that sent your dizzy mind in an uproar. 

His right hand loosened its grip on your forearm before it let go of it completely. He turned his palm towards you, and you felt your eyes widen in silent distress. Was this your punishment? Were you to be burned right where you stood? With no hope of mercy, repentance, or forgiveness? 

By the hands of the man you loved?

But deep down, you knew you had no right to complain. Your eyes closed slowly as you fell limp in his grip. You truly had no right to argue or barter about your punishment. You were a peasant. You had rules. But you broke them. Now you have to pay the price. You dug your grave. It was only right that you take everything that was given to you with blurry eyes and a thankful heart that reminded you of how things could have been worse. 

But your punishment never came. 

“I’ve lost everything, you know?” 

Light as a feather, his right hand circled your left wrist and pulled it towards his figure. This was unexpected. His movements were slow and shaky- as if he was the one who should be fearing for his life. Never in your life did you imagine that you’d ever find yourself in such a situation. A situation that stemmed from what should have been a punishment, no less. And yet, his touch was delicate as he placed your hand on a part of his chest that was left open through his robe. Your eyes flickered open to meet his intense golden gaze as your palm made contact with burning skin and a soft but steady beat. His heart.

“Everything.” He repeated, not once taking his eyes off of you. Nodding shakily, you mouthed the powerful word with silent lips. You had never seen his scar before. You thought it made him look very handsome. “Everything.”

His voice had become raspy and low with age. It held a certain heaviness that weighed down your own heart as you detected the swirl of emotions that lived behind the voice. It was as if despair and rage had grabbed at his throat with an iron grip and crushed and crushed until there was nothing left but bitterness, regret, and loss. Despite this, it was soft. Soft and quiet in an almost soothing way. Was this acceptance of his own secret troubles? Was this relief to be home? Or… was this voice reserved for you?

But like fire, he changed his course very quickly.

“My pride. My honor. My status. My throne. My family.”

His next words came out in a deep and threatening growl. If he had gotten any louder, you’d be inclined to call it a shout. You could feel the threat that punctuated all of the things he lost as he snatched up your other wrist with unexpected strength. You were trapped in the way he wanted you to be as he held you in a tight grip. One hand made to be pressed against his chest. Another hand held suspended in the air. This was the warrior you could hear behind the voice. But this was not the boy you once knew. This was not the boy you fell hopelessly in love with. This was not your Prince Zuko. This was all that was left of him. All that was left of the boy who was forced to leave home.

So you whimpered. 

And he softened. 

He relaxed his hold on you with a sigh and hung his head. But he didn’t let go. His long hair created a shadow over his eyes and face making his expressions unreadable. You didn’t know what to think. For a while, he was as still as a corpse. If it weren’t the soft pulsating of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and the slow rise and fall of his chest, you could have been convinced that he was the one who died right where he stood. And that scared you.

You were surprised when he brought his head up and started to move again. Moving slowly and with that feather-light grip he had earlier, the hand held your wrist in the air guided your hand closer and closer until finally…it rested on the left side of his face. The second you made contact with the burned skin, you watched his eyes grow steely and hard as they trained on your face. He was watching you. Almost daring you to indulge. A challenge you selfishly accepted. 

Your thumb trailed little circles on his cheek, causing gold eyes to slip close as he pressed against your hand. A deep inhale followed by a quiet exhale as he cuddled into you like a young child. You could not believe it. Your poor heart has been through too much excitement today. The chance to live out your crush was starting to feel like too much. But every touch- every little feeling as your thumb circled over the cold, rough, red skin of his burn reminded you that this was real. That this was happening and that this was now and that he was in pain and you are the one to comfort him. Tonight, you weren’t dreaming. His body is far too warm to think otherwise.

“Starting tomorrow,” He spoke with his eyes closed- voice barely above a whisper as you both selfishly gave in to your desires as servant and master. Prince and peasant. Everything and nothing. “Your new orders are to serve me and me alone, got it?”

“Yes,” You whispered, voice barely traveling to his ears. It was almost lost in the ambiance of the world outside the Prince’s moon-lit bedroom. But you knew he heard it. You could tell by the way he shivered in your hold. “Yes, my prince.”

There was a pregnant pause before he opened his eyes and stepped away from your touch.

“You are not to leave my side. Wherever I go, you go. No matter what anyone tells you.” He ordered with all the firmness and finality a prince could hold. With his face set in a straight line and his eyes holding you in an intimidating stare, you couldn’t do anything but quietly nod your head and avert your gaze. But with one last bold movement, he stepped towards you and grabbed your chin, and forced your head up to meet his eyes.

“I’ve lost everything.” He repeated quietly. How he managed to sound more heartbroken than the first time he told you, you’ll never know. But oh, how you felt it. 

“ But I will not lose my everything. Ever. Again.”

And with a final growl, he was gone. The moment between you two has ended, leaving you with nothing but questions you will never ask. Questions you’ll never get answers to. Questions you’ll never fully understand.

But you couldn’t complain. You couldn’t dare complain about what just happened. You got his intimate hold. You got his kind eyes. His kind voice. His attention. And now? You get to be by his side from now on. 

You got everything that you wanted, didn’t you?

Right?

Stay

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

Summary : You are hopeful, you are exhausted, and you want Five to stay.

Warning : None.

Is this how it will always be?

This constant tug of coming and going, but never staying.

"Can't you stay for a little longer?"

Five sighs. Tired gaze settling on you. "You know I can't."

Can't or won't? You bite the retort back.

You met Five in a coffee shop a few months back. A conversation over black coffee was the start of it all, and now here you are, stretching at the seams of what you want and what he can give.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I understand," you reassure.

And you do. His father, the academy, his duty, his family, you understand it all.

You just wish there to be a small corner in his heart for you.

You hope, with time, he will stay.

•••

"We have talked about this," Five argues.

No, we haven't. You talked about it and I listened.

"Is ten minutes more, asking for too much?" Frowning, you peer at him.

"I can't," he states, voice curt.

"Can't or won't?" You retort sharply.

You both aren't who you were when you met over coffee. It's been…you don't even remember how long it's been since you've known him. But you know, it's been long enough to hurt.

"You think if I'd the choice to stay, I wouldn't?" he fumes, glare infusing into his eyes as he stalks towards you.

You've never done it before, what do I know?

"I—"

His hands grip your shoulder, firm and unyielding. "I would."

He says it with such conviction that you believe him.

Desolation wraps around your lips and curls up. A smile bitten out of your heart, you offer it up to him on a platter.

And when he leaves, you hope the next time he will stay.

•••

"I can't do this anymore."

Your whisper is a proclamation. A despairing sound crossing over the chasm of silence between you and him, carried across by the bridge of shattered hope and bleeding love.

It's been years upon years of you consciously hiding behind the carefully crafted walls of ignorance and delusion. No more can you muster the strength to hold them up.

"Don't say that," the crack of his voice mirrors the one in your heart.

"I can't keep doing this," exhaustion slips past your lips, you hope it drains him.

"Just give me—"

"No," you cut him off. "Give, give, give, that's all I have been doing, that's all I have ever done. Don't you see?"

He walks around your bed, towards where you stand— by the window.

Once he's near enough, he lifts his hand to touch you, or embrace you, or calm you, but you turn away, so he thinks better of it.

"I'm sorry."

He's always sorry.

When you used to spend all those late nights or afternoons with him, listening to him, you'd deduced that apology wasn't something he was a master of unlike all other subjects.

You'd thought that apologies were a delicacy when it came to him. How wrong you were.

"Please, I can't do this without you," he's pleading, and yet it's not enough to stir the sympathy within. You want to cry all the same.

"No, Five, I can't do this. I can't let you do this to me anymore."

You keep gazing out of your window, so you don't have to see him.

Nature is a contrast of you. The air is dry, your eyes are not, the leaves aren't rustling, but your being is, the moon is full and yet, you're waning.

The night is the only comfort, reflecting the endless abyss you've fallen into.

He shakes his head, and with it all the semblance of acceptance. "No. Look me in the eye and say that."

So, you do. And you see.

In the depth of his eyes you see an unsettled ocean, oh how deep have you been drowning in them. The more you hold his gaze, the more you realize.

You cannot breathe.

You look away, if you keep looking into those eyes you'll surely suffocate.

"You can't, can you?" It's not a question. An observation. A declaration. It's Five Hargreeves arrogance.

"Your eyes suffocate me." You hope it hurts. "Your presence suffocates me." This time, when you look at him, you hold his stare.

"You don't mean that," the pain that invades your ears snaps you back. Not entirely. No. But just enough for the string tying his heart to yours to burn in agony.

The bridge of shattered hope and bleeding love is in ruins, and ruins rot, and you can't let them destroy you alongside. Ruins must burn.

"I do."

You burn the bridge.

The hush that falls after your decision is one that consists of broken shards, sharp enough to cut, to draw blood.

And they do. There's blood in your ear, copper in your mouth. Seconds tick by and in the torturous quiet you and Five both bleed together.

This is how the moon must feel—hopeless and splintered and wholly caged—when gazing down at those who cry under moonlight.

"I should leave."

The air near him shifts closer to you for a fleeting moment and then draws back.

"Five?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't come back unless you plan to stay."

He doesn't reply. Makes no promises. Just leaves.

And you?

You hope and you hope and you hope.

•••

When you come home, the first thing you notice is the air.

The air feels more welcoming, more mellow. As though the stagnant rust that had dried over the molecules has finally been stripped ; renewing everything.

Your eyes linger on the open door of your bedroom.

Breath in. Breath out.

Giving yourself a moment or two, to let the overwrought heart still, and the agitation in nerves to abate.

Silent are your steps as you tread across the living room towards the open door.

And there he is.

Five Hargreeves does everything in the proper way, cannot fathom doing anything in a way he considers less than perfect.

His presence isn't a surprise.

How could it be? When he'd announced it in bold calligraphy over rose-scented parchment saying, "I'm coming home."

Your gaze sweeps over to him.

Leaning against the open window, with his head tilted up and eyes closed. The afternoon sun shines down on him in sublimity, golden rays weaving through the lining of his skin.

He looks like home.

"It's been eight months."

The silvery thread of your voice tugs at him, unfurling the ocean of his eyes that you used to drown in.

"I know."

You fold your arms. "Bit arrogant of you to presume we could just pick up right where we left off."

"I don't presume." He shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I know."

"Oh?" You raise a mocking brow. "Is that so?"

"I have lived your love." His words are laced in nostalgia, it splashes on your face. "I have known your love. I know your love. And maybe, maybe I'm being arrogant here, but this arrogance comes from confidence, from belief in your love."

"I am tired, Five." So is my love.

There are more words you wish to say, however they are a jumbled mess. It doesn't matter because the softness of his eyes says that he understands.

"I have always fallen back on you, known that no matter what you will always be there. I'm here so that, you know, you can fall back on me now."

You sway on your feet. Warm tears eclipse your eyes. You step closer to him.

"And you won't leave?"

"I'm here. I'm here to stay." He extends his hand, the curl of his lips, the shine of his eyes, everything left open and raw for you to see.

And what you see is the promise of comfort and rest. Of peace and love. Of him and you.

So, you take his hand. And he pulls you in an embrace.

You meet him like the first rain after a dry spell. Like the cold droplets falling over the burning earth, soothing and mending the cracks. Except you both are the drought and the rain— you're his drought as he's yours, and he's your rain, as you're his.

I'm home, you think, as his hands envelop you entirely, while your come to rest upon his chest.

Heart sagging as it lets go of exhaustion. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds shelter in the nook of your shoulder.

Together, you succumb into each other.

Melding and merging with every breath, the essence spilling over. A game of hide and seek without the need to seek because you've already found each other. But you are hiding, somewhere near the core of your respective beings, finding solace by the soul.

There's much to talk about. But not now. For now, you're tranquil beneath the mirage that there's no one but you and Five in the world.

Sighing, you nestle into him.

Is this how it will always be?

You hope and you hope and you hope.

..................................................................................

A/N :

This one was inspired by the exhaustion I felt. Some abstract exhaustion that made me want to just succumb into someone.

And then I remembered this quote by Kafka— "I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us anymore."

And I thought, well there's no one to hide face in other than the pillow, but let's create something out of it! So yeah channelled all that into this.

It's a bit heavy on the prose...yeah I think the Sandman fic I'm working on has something to do with that.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤

WOULD THAT I

The Gojo heir doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

status: in progress

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

notes: this has been haunting me ever since i first posted the concept. hopefully it lives up to the idea! title is from hozier.

content: soulmate au (names written on skin), possessive gojo, more warnings to be added.

read on ao3

prologue - october 4

part one - tbd

part two - tbd

𝓲𝓷𝓴 & 𝓻𝓱𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓶 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 『 band au | strangers to lovers | slow burn 』

pairing // artist!reader x drummer!bakugo status // coming soon! rating // explicit (18+ themes) #✩.ink&rhythm + crossposted to AO3

✩ summary // Distortion is the hottest band in town, making waves in the underground scene with their unique sound. Led by your college best friend and music prodigy, Kyoka Jiro, alongside her misfit group of friends, they've been playing shows every weekend for the last few months and have gathered a decent following. You're whisked into the whirlwind of their rockstar lives when Jiro commissions you to design a band logo for their merch, reconnecting with her and meeting the members of the band. Your eyes immediately gravitate to their powerful drummer, Katsuki Bakugo. Fresh out of a nasty three year on/off relationship, he's not looking for anything or anyone while shutting out the world around him. He's focused on the one thing that keeps him sane; music. You're six months free of a breakup as well, looking to repaint your world with new colors and experiences, but turns out it's more tumultuous than anticipated. Explosive fights, newfound fame, clashing egos, dive bars, stolen kisses, black out dreams, messy exes and hard lessons; but somehow, love finds a way to bloom like a flower in the desert - deep in the hottest, driest wasteland of two broken hearts.

✩ tags & warnings // rock/punk/alt band au, slow burn, meet cute, strangers to lovers, various smut, smoking/drugs/alcohol consumption, talks of emotional & physical abuse from past partners, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, mild violence, mentions of cheating from past partners, miscommunications, jealousy, long distance, stalking, attempted sexual assault (not from bakugo or the bakusquad!), bakugo & reader suffer from relationship traumas (cami & dabi are nasty exes), bakusquad are in a band, friend breakups & makeups

꒰ track list ꒱ ✩ Prelude: Holding onto Hope is a Different Kind of Pain ✩ Track One: Shine a Light into the Wreckage ✩ Track Two: Flowers Filled with Vitriol ✩ Track Three: Boulevard of (Broken?) Dreams ✩ Track Four: You Can Throw Me in the Deep End ✩ Track Five: Every Canvas that I Paint is a Masterpiece (of My Mistakes) ✩ Track Six: Band-Aids Don't Fix Bullet Holes ✩ Track Seven: Good Girls Stay Alive ✩ Track Eight: The End of Me, The End of Me ✩ Track Nine: If It Means A Lot To You ✩ Track Ten: Hand on the Throttle ✩ Bonus Track: We Are Distortion, 1-2-3-go!!

꒰ info ꒱ ✩ all characters are 24/25 years old ✩ reader co-owns an art gallery and has a BFA ✩ reader's artist alias is "glxtch" (glitch) ✩ bakugo drives a custom built orange & black Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R ✩ relationships: momojiro, kirimina, ex-bakucamie, ex-dabi/reader

✩ band name: Distortion ✧ Kyoka Jiro | lead singer, electric guitar (Barista - Degree in Music Production) ✧ Denki Kaminari | electric guitar, backup vocals (Waiter) ✧ Eijiro Kirishima | bass, backup vocals (Bartender) ✧ Katsuki Bakugo | drummer, backup vocals (Bike Mechanic) ✧ Mina Ashido | keyboard, backup vocals (Makeup artist) ✧ Momo Yaoyorozu | band manager (Marketing assistant)

✩ vocal inspirations ✧ Kyoka Jiro ⇢  addie amick (halocene) ✧ Denki Kaminari ⇢  rory rodriguez (dayseeker) ✧ Eijiro Kirishima ⇢  tim mcilrath (rise against) ✧ Katsuki Bakugo ⇢  eric vanlerberghe & acoustic (i prevail - harsh vocals) ✧ Mina Ashido ⇢  maggie lindemann

꒰ mood board ꒱

✩ pinterest board ✩

꒰ playlist ꒱

⇢  tag list ; @/bells-28 @/simp-plague @/nemisimp @/hotttamalee @/mymysenpai @/ttulipwritezz @/bakunianadecorazon @/yoyolovesdaiki @/eeeeeevesstuff @/alloueate @/dollukisposts @/Rikakhai ♡ last updated // 08.09.24 dividers, banners & moodboard by taurus-magicka