#had a draft for it but its lost 💔💔

[tsoberi]

hiiiii

so so sorry for not being active in a while, things have been quite hectic these past few months. I do plan on writing again one day but I might move to a new blog ^.^ if I ever do, I'll make sure to put it on my pinned post

thank you for reading aaa

[happy74827]

The Weight of Seeing

[John Constantine x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Having been cursed with the pain of having the power to see, but never the power to help, you were used to the failure. But it hurts more than you anticipated when your visions shifted to a certain someone who you realized meant everything to you {GIF Creds: thejingshi}.

WC: 2212

Category: Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical!John Constantine, Visionary!Reader {TW: Premonitions/Visions of Death, Migraines (i hate them)}

This is a little random idea I had sitting in my drafts for a tiny bit, but I felt very inclined to finish it. Especially with the lack of fics 💔

『••✎••』

The air in the safehouse is still.

Muted, like the world has agreed to hold its breath for once. Rain taps gently at the windows, and the scent of wet concrete drifts in through the small crack John left in the window when he went out. You sit on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, sunglasses perched delicately on the bridge of your nose—more for the throb behind your eyes than the overhead light, which John had dimmed before leaving. He’d remembered.

It’s the small things like that. The fact that he remembered you couldn’t stand harsh light during a migraine. The fact that he’d gone out at all for you.

You hear the door open before you see him. The creak of wood and the shuffle of boots are too familiar now to mistake. And then his presence fills the room like smoke—sharp, lingering, inescapable.

You don’t move. Not at first.

You just watch him.

John Constantine, drenched from the rain, coat clinging to his frame. His tie hangs loose around his neck, and a cigarette is crushed between two fingers, unlit—for now. There was a time when you couldn’t have imagined him not smoking the second he walked into a room. Maybe he’s changing. Maybe not. Maybe it’s just you.

His dark hair, still damp, curls at the ends. You’ve always noticed how it lies slightly off-center, like he’d run his fingers through it once, maybe twice, and given up halfway. And his eyes... those weary, predatory things. Dark, sunken, always scanning—like the world had lied to him too many times and now he never trusts anything at face value. But right now, they soften when they find you.

"You still breathing?" he asks, voice roughened at the edges. But quieter than usual. Calmer. Like he knows your head is splitting again.

You manage a nod.

John sets the small paper bag down on the nightstand and pulls the chair from the corner across the room. He doesn’t sit right away. Just stands there, studying you. His silence is a loaded thing.

You take the glasses off slowly. Even through the pounding in your skull, you still wanted to see him.

"You didn’t have to go," you murmur.

He ignores that. "Tried to get the strong stuff. Your doc’s a cryptic bastard, but the pharmacist got the idea."

He lights the cigarette. Then, after one drag, stubs it out. He doesn’t look at you while he does it.

You tilt your head slightly. "You only smoke half when you’re nervous."

His jaw twitches.

"Don’t flatter yourself," he says, finally sinking into the chair. But his voice has lost all of its bite. The words fall flat—almost gentle, somehow.

You study him in silence. The way his fingers tap against his thigh, his coat hanging open and soaked through, clinging to that long frame of his. The faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. That impossible, wrecked beauty he carries like a curse. His hands—calloused, twitchy, always reaching for something to fight or light or fix.

Except now, they’re still.

He isn’t looking at you anymore, not directly—just watching the space around you like there’s something there he can’t quite name. You haven’t said much since he walked in, and for once, it isn’t the migraine that makes you quiet.

John notices. Of course he notices.

"You’re quieter than usual," he says. Not an accusation. Just observation, plain and pointed. He turns his head slightly, the weight of his gaze settling back on you. "Head worse?”

You hesitate, shaking your head. "No, It’s not that."

He leans back in the chair, arms folded. "Something happened while I was gone."

It isn’t a question, but rather just the truth, pulled right out of you without your even opening your mouth.

Your hands tense in your lap. You look down at them, at the pale curve of your fingers, like they might hold the answer for how to not say the thing pressing against your throat. But your silence is louder than anything now.

He waits. Patient, but not gentle. He never asks twice—he just gives you a moment to make your own choice about honesty.

Still, you don’t speak.

He sighs and rubs his eyes, the pads of his fingers digging into his sockets like he could push the weariness back in. "Premonition?"

Your breath catches.

You don’t mean for it to, but it does. The tell is enough.

John nods slightly. "Yeah," he mutters. "That checks out."

That shouldn’t be comforting, but it is. That unfazed tone. That shrug of reality, like death omens are as common as a change in the weather. It unknots something in you, something tangled in fear and guilt.

"I didn’t want to say anything," you admit, barely above a whisper. "Because if I said it, it would mean it’s real. And I thought maybe, if I stayed quiet long enough, it’d just... go away."

He doesn’t interrupt. He just leans forward again, his arms resting on his knees, listening.

"I’ve seen people die," you say. "Over and over. And I try—I do. I try to get there in time or warn them. But it’s always too late. Always."

He watches you with those sharp, tired eyes, but he doesn’t flinch or look away.

You look up at him then, blinking against the sting behind your eyes. "But this time it was you, John."

A silence like thunder settles between you.

"I saw it," you say, voice cracking. "I saw you die. And I just—I couldn’t breathe for minutes after. It hurt. Like it already happened."

Still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just listens.

"I’ve failed before," you continue, softer now. "I’ve tried to save people, and they die anyway. And I thought I could live with that, but now—" You swallow hard. "I don’t think I can live through losing you."

A beat passes. Then another.

And finally, he stands. Slow. Careful. Like he doesn’t want to scare you off.

"You ever think maybe you care too much?" he asks, tone dry—but his eyes say something else. Something bruised and aching.

You smile faintly, humorless. "Maybe. But I don’t think that’s the worst thing to be guilty of."

John studies you for a long moment, brow furrowed slightly. Then he sighs.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to do. Maybe turn around and leave. He does that sometimes, when the truth gets too close. When you both come too close to the line neither has crossed. But instead, he walks to the bed and sinks down beside you, hands on his knees, eyes fixed on a point on the wall across from you.

The air in the safehouse grows heavier, thick with the weight of your confession and the rain’s relentless patter outside. John’s presence beside you is a quiet storm, his silence louder than any words could be. His shoulder brushes yours, just enough to make your pulse stutter, but he doesn’t pull away. Neither do you.

You steal a glance at him. His profile is sharp against the dim light—angular jaw, the faint lines etched around his eyes, the way his mouth sets in a line that’s neither soft nor hard, just John. He’s close enough that you can smell the rain on his coat, the faint trace of cigarette smoke clinging to him despite the stubbed-out remnant. It’s grounding, that scent. It’s him.

"You didn’t fail anybody," he says finally, voice low, gravelly, like he’s pulling the words from somewhere deep. "Least of all me."

You shake your head, the motion small but sharp. "You don’t get it, John. I saw it. You were—" Your voice catches again, and you press your lips together, trying to hold it in. The image flashes behind your eyes: blood pooling on pavement, his body still, those sharp eyes fading forever. "It was so real. I could feel it. Like I was there."

He turns his head then, just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are darker now, searching, like he’s trying to see the vision you saw, to carry it for you. "I've outlasted worse," he says, and there’s a conviction in his tone that almost makes you believe him. Almost.

"You can’t know that," you whisper, your voice barely holding together. "You don’t even know what I saw."

He shifts, angling his body toward you, his knee brushing against yours. The contact is fleeting but deliberate, and it sends a jolt through you, like static. "I’ve been dodging death longer than you’ve been having visions," he says, his voice softer now, but still edged with that dry certainty. "I’m not saying it’s a guarantee, but I’m a hard bastard to kill."

You let out a shaky laugh, more breath than sound, and it eases the knot in your chest just a fraction. "You’re impossible," you murmur, but there’s no heat in it. Just exhaustion. Just relief that he’s here, alive, sitting close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him.

"Part of my charm," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s still watching you, too closely, like he’s waiting for you to crack again. Or maybe he’s the one about to crack, and he’s just better at hiding it.

The silence stretches again, taut and fragile, and you’re suddenly aware of how close he is. Close enough that you can see the faint pulse at the base of his throat, the way his fingers flex slightly against his knees, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out. You wonder what it would feel like if he did. If he closed that last inch of space between you. If he let himself.

You’ve thought about it before—too many times, in moments when you shouldn’t. In moments when he’s looked at you like he’s looking at you now, like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. But John Constantine doesn’t do soft. He doesn’t do promises or attachments or anything that could break him more than he’s already broken. And yet, here he is, sitting on this bed, not running.

"You’re scared," he says suddenly, and it’s not a question. His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the haze in your head like a blade. "Not just about the vision."

Your breath hitches, and you hate that he can read you so easily. You want to deny it, to deflect, but the words won’t come. Instead, you look down at your hands again, fingers twisting together, and you feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing.

"I’m scared of a lot of things," you admit, barely audible. "But yeah. Mostly you."

He doesn’t laugh or smirk or brush it off like you expect him to. Instead, he leans closer, just enough that his shoulder presses fully against yours now, solid and warm. "You don’t have to be," he says, and for once, there’s no edge to his voice, no sarcasm or deflection. Just truth, raw and unguarded.

Your heart stumbles in your chest. You turn your head to look at him, and he’s already looking at you, closer than he’s ever been. His eyes are dark, endless, and for a moment, you think you see something flicker in them—something that looks like fear, or want, or both. The air between you feels like it might snap, like a wire pulled too tight.

"John," you say, and his name feels heavy on your tongue, like a confession in itself.

He doesn’t move, but his gaze drops to your mouth for a fraction of a second, and it’s enough to make your pulse race. Enough to make you wonder what it would be like to close the distance, to taste the rain and smoke on his lips, to let yourself fall into whatever this is that’s been simmering between you for too long.

But he pulls back, just an inch, and the moment fractures. Not gone, but held in suspension, like the rain outside. He clears his throat, looks away, and runs a hand through his damp hair, leaving it even more disheveled.

"You need to rest," he says, voice rough again, like he’s trying to ground himself. "Migraine’s bad enough without you staying up worrying about me."

You want to argue, to tell him you’re not the one who needs saving, but the exhaustion in your bones wins out. You nod, shifting to lie back on the bed, your head still throbbing but somehow lighter now. He doesn’t leave, though. He stays there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped between his knees, like he’s keeping watch.

"John," you say again, softer this time, as your eyes start to drift closed.

"Yeah?" His voice is quiet, almost tender.

"Don’t die," you whisper, and it’s half a plea, half a prayer.

He doesn’t answer right out, but you feel the bed shift slightly as he leans closer, his breath warm against your temple.

"Not planning on it," he murmurs, and you realize then that this was the closest thing to a promise you’ll ever get from him.

So, begrudgingly, you close your eyes and let the words settle over you as the rain shifts into being a quiet witness to the peace between you.

[dollettiee]

⊹ 𝓢𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝓥𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 〟

            ꒰ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩 yandere husband! gong—yoo/salesman wanted to celebrate valentine‘s day with you, but two men seems to almost ruined your day. 

            ꒰ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟(𝑠) .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩 yandere! gong—yoo x fem! chubby! blind! reader, the two men from sg2

            ꒰ 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡(𝑠) .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩 mdni. yandere, soft yandere, mentioned of slapping, reference to the bread and lottery episode, reader is blind, not much dialogue cus i was a bit lazy in this one, reader is written as chubby, man is so lovestruck, petnames (honey, darling)

            ꒰ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩 yes, i am aware that valentine had ended a week or two ago, i had planned to write this the day before my exam 💔 (i als forgor this was in my draft lol)

𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐆—𝐘𝐎𝐎 is a man who thrives on control, his every move calculated, his emotions tightly held under wraps. yet, when it comes to you, his sweet, chubby wife, he‘s a man lost in love. he‘s a master of many things—ruthless in his business, terrifying to his enemies—but with you? he‘s soft. completely and utterly soft.

the world knows him as the man in a perfectly tailored black suit, his hair slicked back, his smile charming yet dangerous. his days are filled with playing ddakji with people who are either in debt, scammed or poor for 100,000 won and slapping his challengers when they inevitably fail. money is never an issue, a suitcase filled with cash a constant reminder of his success.

but when he comes home, everything changes. there, he‘s greeted by his beautiful wife—you—preparing him dinner like a good housewife, despite your blindness. his love for you is immeasurable, and he‘d never dream of raising his voice to you. he wants to protect you, keep you happy, safe from the cruel world outside.

your home is neat, clean, everything in its place, just the way he likes it. he made sure of it, arranging everything to make it easier for you to navigate, even with your limited sight. it‘s a silent expression of his love—his desire to make you feel as comfortable and secure as possible.

but today… today was special.

gong—yoo wanted to make valentine‘s day unforgettable for you. he spent the entire day spoiling you, lavishing you with gifts and his affection. the entire day was filled with laughter, his hands holding yours, kissing each of your fingers as if you were the most precious thing in his world. you were his soft spot, his obsession. the bags in his hands were filled with everything you desired, yet despite your insistence to carry them yourself, he refused. he‘d already done so much for you, but no. he had to do more. always more.

what you didn‘t know was that there were two men following you both. gong—yoo, ever the protector, told you to go inside first. without question, you obeyed.

the men, unaware of the danger they were walking into, followed gong—yoo inside. they were quickly knocked unconscious by a can of food, tied up to chairs, their mouths gagged with cloth. they were now in a room that you were forbidden to enter. gong—yoo had always been clear about it—his office room was not a place for you. he told you it was unkempt and dirty, and you believed him.

but what you didn‘t realize was that the “office” wasn‘t the only thing in that room. it was filled with weapons. guns. the kind of things gong—yoo used when his temper flared.

he stood over the two men, the gun resting in his hand, his demeanor cold and calculating. the rules of the game were simple; play rock-paper-scissors, and the loser gets shot. but it was a cruel twist—only one bullet in the gun. a game of russian roulette disguised as a game of chance.

as the game went on, a knock interrupted the tension. gong—yoo‘s dark, dangerous demeanor melted away the moment your voice reached his ears. the smile that followed was soft, lovestruck, utterly devoted.

“honey? are you okay in there?”

his eyes softened as he motioned for silence, his finger against his lips. “of course, darling. do you need anything?”

the sudden change in tone caught the men off guard. how could someone so ruthless, so frightening, sound so gentle with you? they couldn’t understand it.

you casually asked if he wanted to watch a movie after dinner. gong—yoo‘s heart skipped a beat. his entire body ached with desire to rush to you, but he held himself back. he couldn‘t ruin everything now. he wanted to keep you safe, happy, and blissfully unaware of the darker side of his world. but every word from your lips drove him closer to madness.

“i‘ll be done soon, darling. don‘t worry.” his voice was as soft as velvet, his hand reaching out to hold yours, gently caressing your knuckles as he kissed your palm.

you kissed his cheek, and the simple affection almost made him lose control. “okay, i love you,” you whispered.

“i love you too,” he responded, his voice thick with affection, his hand brushing against your hair as you left.

once the door clicked shut behind you, gong—yoo locked it again, his expression darkening. the gun was back in his hand, his smile turning into something darker, but it was still laced with that love for you—obsessive, possessive love.

“so… where were we?” he asked, eyes gleaming as he turned back to the two men, his love for you making him both gentle and terrifying. his heart beat for you, but his actions? those were still cold, calculated… and deadly.

© all rights reserved ! headers/layouts does not belongs to me ! don‘t copy, plagiarize or modify my works. all works are taken in a form of fiction, do not condone any problematic behavior.

[eunoiaaaivy]

🖇️ AUTUMN— NANAMI K.

00. NANAMI X READER

01. IN A WORLD FULL OF CURSES, AND CHAOS— NANAMI WAS YOUR SOLITUDE AND GROUND. BUT YOU WEREN'T HIS.

02. CW: ANGST, CHARACTER DEATH, UNREQUITED LOVE, POSSIBLE JJK SPOILERS BUT THIS DOES NOT FOLLOW THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE, MISUNDERSTANDING, OOC NANAMI, POTENTIAL GRAMMAR MISTAKES, IDK WHAT I ACTUALLY WROTE SOOOO, LMK IF I MISSED ANY.

03. A/N: soooo uhh, hi guys. this has been rotting in my drafts for a long time and uh, i miss nanami. GEGE AKUTAMI COUNT YOUR DAYS. i tried to be angsty too. idk what i actually wrote but eyyy, we're trying to get out of reader slump. couldn't portray my thoughts well, and it's actually annoying.💔

— 04/07/18, JUJUTSU HIGH TOKYO

10:03 AM reads on the phone screen, the quietness of the building testing the chills against the skin. What an abrupt meeting— so abrupt it makes you curious, it’s unusual the higher ups call.

A special grade at that.

It was silent; you could hear the ghost’s footsteps as you trod your feet across the wood creaking floors. The only thing you could do was hope that it wasn’t that bad.

Somehow, there was something even weirder than being called by the higher ups, and maybe, just maybe you’d hope it wasn’t that.

The feeling of a ghost haunting you replays again, and again— those taunting footsteps, and those vivid memories, the laughter, and the—

“Hey, where are you going? We passed the room already.” That boisterous voice breaking the silence of your loud mind startles you for a second, realisation crawling back to you.

“Uh, sorry. Just a little lost,” you replied monotonously, gulping and avoiding eye contact, “let’s go inside.” Cue in Gojo raising his eyebrow from the unusual behaviour, opting not to speak.

He opens the door, and gestures you to go inside first— a sharp breath gets stuck in your throat, as a tall, blonde man, with his back glaring at you, faces the office window outside of the higher ups.

A figure that was oh so familiar, way too familiar.

For a second, you forget to breathe, your world stops and it tips off of its axis, and you can never truly explain what he does to you. Even after all these years, he was so familiar— it was like breathing air, like nostalgia; so known, yet so foreign.

And he stares so casually, so smoothly, as if you guys saw each other yesterday; it makes running fingers against chiselled bones stronger.

“YO Nanamin! Never knew you would be here. How’s your job going? Thought you hated anything jujutsu related things.” Gojo greets Nanami, who in return, grumbles and sighs from Gojo’s voice.

“I still do, especially with the both of you here.” Nanami grumbles back, piercing eyes looking through sharp periphery— and he admits, his breath was caught in a web of butterflies, so beautifully beautiful, yet so cold; he could practically freeze from that blank gaze.

His ribcage hammers, and it’s screaming with how violent it’s getting; for time to delude such endearing masterpieces, it never had the idle to change you from the start, you were too strong willed to be deluded.

Was he still breathing? Or was he dreaming? It’s a rollercoaster game; a never-ending ride to kill this feeling that will always last.

For once, he actually regrets saying his words, and he’s happy to see the both of you. He’s happy to see Gojo, and he’s happy to see you— and his words linger with enough regret in his mind. He wants to bite his tongue until it bleeds, and it feels euphoric so suddenly to see you.

“I see this is an abrupt meeting, please sit down.” Nanami can hear the higher up’s voices, and he can only force himself to peel his head away from your direction. The mere sight was too intoxicating and unreal.

“I thought it was me, Gojo, and someone else? I never heard of [last name] being here.” Nanami outs before he can control his tongue, and that euphoric feeling dies down with every ounce of regret.

All you can hear was a crack— your world tilts off and rolls, and it’s crumbling. You were atleast expecting him to miss you like how you miss him, but atlas, it was always wishful thinking.

You never meant anything to him, nothing more, nothing less. That’s that.

The higher up’s chatter enters one ear, and exits the other; a closed house, with something to enter with, and something more to exit for. It’s there, and the feelings are real; too real to even fathom.

The energy inside depletes, conscience gnawing with the growing ivy of overthinking somewhere in between. The meeting ends before you know it, and on autopilot you make your way out of that room. Decking the hall makes that burden heavier; it’s not easy to breathe, lungs punctured from the hit you took from the words and brain malfunctioning with the information in tow.

You’re not sure whether your heart was beating or was it slowing down, and it was the contrary to your pace; quick, hurried and a clear sign you want to get out of there as soon as possible.

The air colliding against your face has never felt this good, and you pay no mind as you quickly make your way through the parking lot.

The world was not on your side today as a hand grabs you by the shoulder, it is gentle and familiar; it makes you want to keep on walking.

“Are you not aware of your surroundings? What if you suddenly get attacked by a cursed spirit?” The smooth baritone asked, it was flat and you didn’t know whether he saw you as a burden or if he’s concerned.

You stayed silent, and for a while he didn’t follow up with any other questions, which was weird.

Nanami sighs upon seeing you not face him, his ribcage was thrashing around with its peculiar beat, yet he doesn’t know what aches beneath.

His words must have stung; and he knew it did— he knew you too much.

The blonde man wonders whether you’re going to retort or if you’re going to bite your tongue, he’d rather have the first choice than to see you so heartbroken; he can’t bear the look you’d give him.

You’re the only venom he’d be willing to take, even if it kills him instantly— even if it’s painful, and excruciating, and so unearthing, as long as it was you.

Well, that is if he doesn’t poison you first.

“It seems you haven’t changed,” The voice calms down his turmoil, and he doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or elated that he was answered; with enough venom to kill him or with a tone that was so flat or whether it wa— “you’re still so cold and reserved, I guess leaving Jujutsu High did make you a bit rougher to approach.” That tongue said in a way where it kills him instantly; quick and cruel.

That oh-so familiar face turns, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, and he could feel the venom pumping through his veins. The breeze surely heard him, and maybe it did; you look so beautiful in this light.

And everything cracks— beneath porcelain facades, everything is cracking inside, and it’s a waltz of beating hearts; both equally alive yet dead, stepping on each other’s feet as they cascade around old memories.

— 09/25/18, JUJUTSU GROUNDS.

“I never thought I’d see you guys in one room again!” Shoko mutters out loudly, greeting you with a hug and laughing at the sour expression Nanami wears.

“We’re here for professional business,” Nanami gruffly mutters out behind you, “besides, my personal matters with [name] have nothing to do with you.” The blonde man glares through his sunglasses, a pointed look that Shoko knew all too well— let me handle things I can never speak about.

And Shoko holds both her hands up in defeat, playfully chuckling while sending a look back at Nanami. The tension grows, and Gojo breaks it up with his loud voice.

“They’re still so goofy, Sho! I’m telling you, Nanamin never grew his balls!” The blue eyed sorcerer says, hands sliding along his face dramatically to emphasize.

Shoko chuckles once again, “who knew Nanami was such a coward to things?” said the brown haired beauty in a teasing tone.

Nanami shifts uncomfortably while loosening his neck tie a bit, his throat feels dry and there’s this blazing heat in this mist of uncertainness. “Oh quit it, Sho! Leave Nanami alone.” Your voice shouts from behind him, and maybe it made him more uncomfortable.

His last name slipped out so casually from your tongue, and maybe there’s this burning desire for him to hear his first name— like you used to do; it was always sweet, and buttery smooth.

“Whatever you say gal, just stating some things,” Shoko muttered out in defeat, a deadpan look on her face as she raised her hands up, “besides, I know you would sacrifice your peac— WOAH! Fine, I’m just playing. You know I’ll never spill your secrets.” The doctor chuckled out, dodging your punch sent her way.

She continues to chuckle, while Nanami and Gojo eye the both of you from behind. You were strangling Shoko, as she chuckles defeatedly, and Nanami wonders whether the doctor was this silly with you.

Gojo chuckles from beside him, the blue-eyed male holding a small-fond smile and Nanami couldn’t blame him; Jujutsu sorcery wasn’t a two-way trip where you go inside a train and come outside at your stop.

“What an irony,” the blond haired man thinks— it certainly was, you come inside the halls and come out even bloodier than before.

“So what guys? Are we just going to idle here or are we going to the cafè? I’ll treat you guys, since I’m nice today!” He hears Gojo shout from behind him, “aren’t you always kind, Gojo?” Nanami’s ears reel in your voice, and somehow his heart beats fast, not the good kind.

And everything fades for the rest of the day, just laughter with the once nostalgic image of you.

— 9/29/18, BAKERY BASKING IN AUTUMN.

The cafè bell rings, the door opens, and the blonde gentleman holds the door for you. The small thank you sent him fluttering like pigeons; warm and cozy despite the cold breeze passing by.

Nothing is spoken, no words, no sound, not even a small utterance of truth— just the silence of two people who know each other, or the right term, knew. It’s the white noise of the world, the chitter and chatter, the occasional hum of what used to be.

But it doesn’t matter— it doesn’t as you and Nanami stroll around the autumn–filled park, coffees and pastries dangling on each of your hands, it doesn’t as he ties the shoelaces of your boots, not once complaining about the way you’d accidentally bump into him.

It doesn’t matter because there was no “you and him” in the first place, only you, and only Nanami; nothing more, nothing less.

As you walk further and further away, you both hear a mother cooing her child, a memory you wish to tuck in a corner. Her partner doesn’t even hesitate to help her— she doesn’t even have to ask, have to beg for that love; the love where it smells like cinnamon, laughter, and warm hugs at night.

Why can’t this be given to you? Why?

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be chosen,” the slow beat, the slow tempo before a dance starts begins, dancers dreading every twist and turn of their bodies, “my mother never chose me, my father never did, the higher ups never did…I have always wanted to know how and why.” The dancers walk to the stage, testing their beautiful smiles.

“I’ve always wondered, why can’t I be like Satoru? I’m a special grade like him, I’m a risk-taker, I have a few charms, I come from a clan, I’m a jujutsu sorcerer, although not as loud as him, I’m still…me. Just like Satoru.” They take a little turn, leaping immediately off the ground, their heart momentarily stopping for a second.

“And yet, at the end of the day, I’m not like him. I’ve asked Satoru how it feels to be the chosen one, and he said it feels different all the time. It gets exhausting.” The dancers leap again, a larger one this time, “but is it as dreadful as not?” A big pause in the dance recital happens— no technical difficulties, just a huge pause for a big leap of breath.

“I came to terms that I did not want to be like Satoru; a hero being used, but it was just me. I have always wondered what we could have been if you had chosen me.” The dancers suddenly take swift turns— they're scared they might crack, that they might mess this up.

“You were the answer I was looking for, instead I ended up with even more questions; what would it feel like if Nanami had chosen me? What does it feel like to be chosen by Nanami? What does life feel like with—” the swift motion of spinning cracks, the dancers fall— each one slowly, but surely.

“Why are you so fixated on being chosen by me? We’re jujustu sorcerers for Pete’s sake, [name]!” Nanami cracks, just like how each dancer falls, adrenaline dying down with each breath they take, “I can’t choose you, I can’t afford to choose you. Not like this, not when we’re working in this messed up society!” Nanami explains in an exasperated voice, nostrils flaring up as frustrations collide in his veins, holding the bridge of his nose. Through his cloudy vision of unmasked truth— he can’t see the vision of your eyes tearing up.

“I can’t afford to risk you, knowing I could lose you at any given moment. So I do what I do best; leave. I leave, I changed, you’ve changed. Times have changed, time— time can’t choose us too.” Nanami replies in a tired voice, opening his eyes, only to be shocked by the scene in front of him.

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean most of it. I just need a moment, please? I have to go.” Nanami says, guilt clouding him as he leaves; again.

Nanami is amazing at many things, you can label them one by one, and the one he’s best at? Leaving— like what he did years ago.

As the dancers cower out the stage, the first fall of snow starts— and it signifies the love you and Nanami have; growing colder as the seasons pass.

Distinct, wistfulness, dancing beneath both of your lives.

Your youth is in his past.

— 10/31/18, SHIBUYA.

The fear settles in as anxious huffs leave each of the sorcerer's lips, the rattling feeling of the unknown chases them; death is on their doors, knocking loudly.

Shibuya was a mess, everything’s scrambled, destroyed, and only little is left of the beautiful city.

It was only the beginning, yet the end was very near— too near them.

It’s such a beguile torment; the agitation, the unknown. Yet, he clings on to your words— words from youth, flowing sweetly in his mind.

“There is always beauty in the unknown, good or bad. The unknown is just there. It’s just like tomorrow, we don’t know whether it’s sweet or bitter, but it’s a gift.” Nanami recalls your words filled with enough reassurance, and it weighs on his mind.

It’s an irony, with who he is as a man, as a sorcerer. He knows that familiar feeling of uncertainty, and the unknown is just right around his corner. Yet, he always liked controlling things, to prove that life can be a ruling state, but fate had other plans.

To the very thought of the unknown, he despises it, with his whole being. Words were heavier rather, and the brief flash back calms him down.

Embrace the unknown, find the beauty.

The unknown was right here, and somehow he ends up with you. Face to face with Mahito. The only beauty he saw right now was you. Despite the pants, the disheveled hair, the calm expression on your face, the sight of you made his heart race. Even if you guys haven't spoken ever since the incident, avoiding each other like the plague.

This is the unknown he was looking for.

The wreckage, the blood, the scent of flesh and screams blaring, screaming, in every inch of Shibuya— it wasn’t the one he wanted.

It was you. Always you.

Mahito attacks, and attacks, over and over again. Before the cursed spirit gets to him, a shadow shows up; too quick, too stealthy, and before he knows it, blood is on the floor.

Not his, but yours.

He could hear the cursed spirit scream, from agony or from mockery he doesn’t know.

You saved him, again, and again.

Yet he couldn’t do the same.

Mahito’s injured, enough to unstabilize him, enough for the final blow— to kill him. He sees Itadori witness the sight, the bleeding, your physique weakening. Your cursed energy standing strong as it still flames Mahito.

With the last of your strength, you pour one final blow on Mahito, making him stumble through various walls where Itadori follows him.

Nanami could hear his heart pounding in his ear, anxiety clamping his stomach, his throat tightening at the sight of you— collapsing slowly with severe internal injuries. You looked a bit disheveled outside but the damage inside is big, dark bruises are forming, blood trailing down your nose.

You were going to be fine, he repeats in his mind as he runs to you.

“This has happened before, she’ll be okay,” Nanami calmy reasurres himself, holding your already tired figure.

“What were you thinking!” He screams, and you’ve never heard Nanami talk this loud. His voice wasn’t muffled but your sight was blurry, as well as the distant future you have with him.

“You only have a few minutes” A voice whispers in your head, taunting and haunted, like how your life had always been. You reach your hands up to his chiseled cheeks, slowly and tremors residing.

“Kento,” you say his name like it was your lifeline, “stop talking, it’s not going to be nice. you’re going to be okay. just stop talking.” Nanami says with finality, rough and frustrated around the edges. He stops you before you even begin.

You chuckle, coughing blood out after as your cursed energy seeps once more in your skin. It’s ironic how his voice is so…aggressive, yet he holds you in his arms as if you were porcelain.

Before you knew it, spots of water droplets fell on your face, your eyes widening. The dam breaks before you could even process the fact Nanami was crying— that he was grieving you.

“Kento, I’m sorry.” You whisper out, lips and body trembling as he presses his forehead on yours. “Don’t say sorry, please. Just stop talking, we’ll get help soon.” Nanami begs, tears streaming down on to your face as you smile a small smile. You let out a small chuckle again, lips curving upwards, peace transcending throughout your body.

“We both know I’m not going to make it. It’s the seal my parents tied me to, Kento.” Words trembling, filling the ache in both of your hearts, and for once— you’re not unhappy, despite the pain surging through every inch of your body.

“I wish you a happy life, please live on.” You say softly, tears falling freely mixed along with blood, his hands were gentle as he wipes your tears, your blood staining his other hand.

“Can you promise me that? That you will live on, for me? Can you promise?” Your body hurts more as you ask that to the man who stayed silent, listening to your dying wishes; you feel him nod, and you couldn’t help but smile at his demeanor, never disrupting you as you speak— and only now do you realize, he did, he does love you. In ways you could ever fathom, just like him.

You smile at the thought again, wide and big, like the agony you’re going to leave him with. Using the last cursed energy you have, your palm on his cheek is activated with black flames; stinging, burning his body, but enough to heal his wounds, and bind his flesh altogether, creating an invisible shield on him.

“Say goodbye, [name]. It’s time to go.” The grim reaper inside you says, laughing hollowly.

Relieving every memory you had with him, your love settles in your bones, body going light as you drag his face closely to yours. Sealing your lips, you made one last memory before you go.

“I love you, my great lost love. This is the end for us.” Your words echoed slowly as your body slumps in his hold, bruises becoming prominent and your heart and lower abdomen tainting into black slowly. The palm on his face falls, and he catches it in his hands, pressing it to his cheeks as he seeks your warmth only for it to be cold.

Nanami sobs silently, tainting the face beneath him as he clinged to you for dear life. Itadori finally comes back, but he pays no mind to the kid.

He had lost you, forever. His greatest love.

Nanami Kento curses your parents, binding you in a slow death, a tango with the grim reaper who was in every corner in your life. They shackled you to misery, sacrificing you to a cursed technique— threading death. Sacrificing you for freedom, for death to knock on your door anytime. Overusing your technique lessens your life span, and you’ve been like Gojo; used as a tool for Jujutsu High.

As the chaos seizes, he realizes your love was akin to that Autumn day; a love that was once warm, turning into something cold and hazy.

Like a great lost love. Warmth seeping out cold.

A/N: HWHSHSHHWSHHE, idk what i even wrote but yeah! luv nanami, WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE ITS ON SITE!

[habibisagi]

i wanna rant about something that's like. IDK JUST CAME TO ME LMFAOO

i left the app for an entire year because of this but basically it is sooo understandable when writers just dip off the app after being on it sooo much. like i get it tbh.

and a lot of the time it’s not necessarily just real life stuff or maybe they started not enjoying tumblr anymore etc. IT DEFINITELY CAN BE but i really do think for almost everyone it’s actually burnout lmao. or you just don’t love the media you post / your blog was centered around anymore like you used to. so you have no reason to be on there anymore. like the brainrot festered away and so did your will to write for fic so what does it matter if you’re on there yk… mutuals really do make you wanna stay but sometimes that is not enough because you feel like you have to be on there and it doesn’t really feel as good 💔 especially when you’re not joining in the fun with everyone because you’re not really feeling it or want to in the way they are LMFAOOO. like yes you are on tumblr for yourself but let's be real. mutuals make it 10000000x more fun.

and my reason specifically was i had crazy animanga burnout. it was so bad like i really didn’t wanna watch or read anything and or force myself to get into for blorbos for some reason like. i had enough LMAO i was so fried from fanfiction in general too and i just really didn’t feel like being on the app anymore because i also lost my desire to write. i also got a full time job and then started school again at some point so yeah i didn’t see a reason to be on there except mutuals but it really wasn’t enough 😭

and so i think a lot of writers rn who have been off the app for a long while, not necessarily deactivated, did too tbh. it’s not always “tumblr isn’t the same” or “real life got to me” like no you just… either don’t feel like being on there anymore or you see no reason to anymore. cuz you can always make time for tumblr technically LMAO

but here’s the really cool thing. tumblr and its people are always here. lots of people come and go but a lot more come and stay!!! tumblr is here for you for years and it will welcome you back whenever you’re ready!! i randomly decided one year later to start watching anime again because i was talking to a guy at the time who told me he liked blue lock. and i thought oh let me watch blue lock with him why not (i ended up blocking him like. halfway thru our s1 watch LMFAOOO and continued the rest myself and got crazy giddy about isagi and rin out of nowhere. i was like oh i remember back on tumblr people were into it in 2022, like loosely when the anime came out but i was like. idk if they are into it anymore, then i read the manga and caught up and started going crazy i was like. I WANNA WRITE. I WANNA WRITE!!!!!! so i sat and wrote a few drafts for isagi but i also wanted to go on the app and see and find content, and see what my mutuals at some point wrote ONLY TO COME IN AND SEE THAT BLUE LOCK IS STILL BEING TALKED ABOUT LMFOASKSJDHF so i was like!! yoo!!!!! AND THAT THE SAME PEOPLE (a few gone </3 but) ARE STILL HERE!! HAVING NEVER LEFT!! cuz i had totally not logged into the app in over a year, didn't check or anything lmao like that's how bad it was

AND THEN PPL DIDN'T FORGET ME LOL? WHICH WAS WACK? NOT TO GET EMO BUT THANK UUUUU ;__; omg. OMG. like hello imagine if everyone was gone LDJKGHFJK IM SO GLAD

anyway i do wish we could be on here all the time and i dont blame others for leaving but man u rlly like. have no control over it LMFAOOO

[miyagi-hokarate]

Random assortment of season 6 part 2 thoughts:

To repost my own edit

I had issues with certain things of course — WHICH I WILL GET INTO — however, I think a lot of the emotional, interpersonal relationship dynamics, because the cast was just less cluttered at a time with a specific event happening, worked better in having conflict and resolution than in part 1

OKAYYYY SO maybe this is recency bias in play, but I feel like this part was OVERALL less frustrating and enraging for me than part 1?

First off: what the fuck was up with the lighting decisions

The good things: like I said, as frustrating it could have been, most of the interpersonal conflicts felt like they came from realistic and understandable issues arising in each character. I commend the maturity Sam, Devon, etc. reacted when Tory came back to Cobra Kai in particular — but even if it raised tension, the aggression between Miguel and Robby, Anthony and Kenny, the Binary Bros and Kenny, etc., didn't feel half-assed and made for conflict for the sake of conflict

I can't say the same for Daniel and Johnny :/ but they get the fucking short end of the stick, big surprise. Divorced energies awf the CHARTS 💯💯💯

They're still fighting over who's the most right or wrong when THEIR KIDS ARE IN THE TRENCHES BECAUSE THEY NEED A FUCKING STRATEGY

I will never Not complain about Johnny and Daniel respectively being karate dads to their kiddos though. Idiot jackasses who fight all the time they are, they're so cute when they're giving guidance :')

And they were ROOMMATES

My indifference and complaints of the Sekai Taikai aside, part 2 ending in an all-out international karate war is nothing short of what I expected from the show. I do have to commend the tremendous amount of choreography and energy pulsing through the fight, without it losing its momentum

Oh and the other competitors were there too

RIP Kwon. You never slayed harder than when you killed yourself

Kreese (SCREAMING). Silver (SCREAMINGGGGGGG). Dennis (hey buddy welcome back :D)

RIP Snake

I WAS MOMENTARILY RIGHT ABOUT MIYAGI-DO 3RD PLACE AND COBRA KAI 5TH HAHAHAHAHA

Anyways I'm sooooooooo angry about the recent developments of Mr. Miyagi you have no idea ❤️

To reiterate: I'm so unamused by this plot twist that Mr. Miyagi was involved in crime, murder(s), the Sekai Taikai, etc., because it's nakedly transparent that the only reason this new development had existed is so that the writers could connect their show to one of the few characters whose writing is strictly stuck in the 80s: Mr. Miyagi. Pat Morita can't return to play his character again, so the writers aren't able to portray Mr. Miyagi according to how they see fit — UNLESS they change his character, film flashbacks, and/or reveal information that isn't shared through the character directly. And with what we've GOTTEN already of Mr. Miyagi's character (escaped his village so he wouldn't have to battle to the death his friend, sent into an internment camp with his new family, partook in war (either willingly or drafted), lost his family, considered an outsider still in his community, etc.), what does this Secret Dark Past of Mr. Miyagi really show that's any different, or even as resonant, as what we've gotten? Besides connecting Mr. Miyagi's backstory to something the new show invented. And that's my problem

Carmen being regulated to mildly supportive mom/love interest for one episode 💔 love to see her for five minutes before being put back into storage alongside Rosa

I'm gonna complain about Kumiko, Kim, and Chozen. Why.

OKAY. IT WAS ALREADY ANNOYING THAT WE HADN'T SEEN KUMIKO SINCE SEASON 3, AND YET THERE WAS ALL THIS TALK ABOUT HOW CHOZEN WAS SUPPOSEDLY IN LOVE WITH HER. BUT SHE'S STILL A NONCHARACTER TALKED AROUND, BUT NEVER TOO??? IT'S LIKE COBRA KAI DECIDED THEY DON'T HAVE TO CARE ABOUT WOMEN IF THEY NEVER SHOW THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE. WE JUST GET NOTHING ON KUMIKO'S SIDE OF THIS???? KUMIKO???? FUCK OFF

AND FOR THAT MATTER, Kim and Chozen having hatesex was mildly aggravating but whatever. Okay fine. Pair the spares. Regulate Sensei Kim's character to either FOR MY (GRAND)FATHER/HONOR, abusive Tiger Mom, or Love Interest of Chozen. Fucking whatever.

Someone else had already made this point before, but as terrible as Sensei Wolf's physical abuse is, it is a little funny seeing how it's treated with so much gravitas, when Johnny is Still throwing glass bottles at the kids, having a history of disregard for safety, etc etc.

In a similar vein of discussion, we don't have to worry about this same thing happening to Chozen's alcohol issues! Because it's being treated with the same seriousness as Johnny's alcohol issues 🙃

I most definitely had other thoughts, buuut those are what I can remember at the time ahdajfjsjks. Overall, when it was good it was good, and when it was bad it was AGGRAVATING TO MY VERY CORE. See you all for part 3 😮‍💨

[puckinghischier]

Question 🙋🏾‍♀️

how exactly do fantasy teams work?

- confused girly

oooo i love this question bc this was my first season ever doing one, and i loved it so much i made my friends do another one with me

so basically you just get a group of people and you draft your own lil perfect team. of course, you’re not gonna get everyone you want bc everyone else is also fighting for people, but you can usually get at least a couple of your favorite players along with big players.

like the first time i did it, had no clue what i was doing. @mikkomacko actually had to tell me what to do bc i was so lost and its her league, but i basically just picked a bunch of devils and a couple other random people 😭

but then, as the season went on, i dropped and added players as i learned more about the league as a whole, so i have a pretty decent team rn. so you can add/drop anyone who went undrafted and if you have someone who ends up injured, you can put them on ir and then pick up a player to fill their spot, then drop that person once your player is activated to play again

i somehow managed to get jack and luke on both of my fantasy leagues and it was such an accomplishment hehe (but i didn’t get quinn on either 💔)

anyways this is crazy long but that’s kinda a short version?? there’s a bunch of other intricate details about how you can set the leagues up and stuff, but both of mine are set up to have two teams “play” each other each week and whoever has the most points wins that matchup. but some you can do a salary cap mode (more like real life nhl) and a bunch of other stuff. both of mine are pretty simple as far as set up

hope this is coherent 😭

[mssishipi]

ahh i’m so sorry u lost ur drafts!! (although i was stalking ur page and i have to say those fic ideas r amazing so i do hope you’ll come back to them when u feel like u can) also i love ur theme so much its so cute !!

also btw taste of indulgence changed my life. i was obsessed with it from the first part i read and then i checked all the time to see if the next part had gone up,, i love ur writing and u seem so sweet RAHHH 😭😭

omg first of all—thank you so, so much 🥺💗 this message made my heart feel so full. i’ve been really sad about losing the drafts, ngl. dog days are over was almost at 25k, make you mine hit 33k and the rest of the purge series were all sitting around 8–10k. plus a bunch of new fic ideas i was so excited about… all gone in one go 💔 i keep blaming myself for not transferring them to wattpad drafts sooner, but honestly, lesson learned the hard way.

thank you for the love on my theme too! i’ve been trying to make my page feel cozy and soft so i’m glad you noticed!!

i’m holding onto hope that i can slowly rebuild things when i’m ready and messages like yours remind me that it’s worth it 🫶💞 thank you sm for being here!!

[pleasantspark]

I feel like if you're not writing for fun and instead want recognition, it would be good to try and branch off from writing stuff centered around your ocs? I understand how fun it can be to write ocs, especially with shipping, but a lot of times people just genuinely don't care about ocs, especially in fandoms. Plus, a lot of your writing feels more like the canon characters are there just to prop your ocs up? This isn't meant to be hate btw, I do genuinely just want you to have a good time writing, but if writing ocs isn't sparking joy, it's good to try new things!

Most of my work is selfshipping related. I don't do Canon x Canon because it makes me straight up uncomfortable. I still struggle with writing HFIL Mansion as it is too 💔🥀

I did want to write a original storyline for something but dropped it. People do want to see OCs. Otherwise "canon" wouldn't be a thing. Any creator who makes stories, that's their OCs. But it's increasingly frustrating to see other people's OCs and stories get all this attention (who also prop up their OCs with canons.) while when I do it, it's bad.

Main OC relies on other OCs within community to interact. But unlike most I'm still not good at writing tho I appreciate it. It's beyond not recognition. It's just hard to write in general and not get rewarded for it. But seeing other low effort writing with OCs get recognition really hurts. Especially when I spent four days once on a 10k smut fic on Cell and an OC only to get 88 Hits on it.

It feels like a pain and demotivates me. I did get an interest in a storyline I would be writing soon. Then there's two other stories that were requested alongside a drafted new chapter of Degesu x OC. I think it's the lack of reward, stress, or even motivation that gets me upset. Then I churn out low effort stuff. Which makes me even more upset. It feels like I am not doing it right which in turns makes me crash out like that. Its worse because I start new projects that will never get to be finished theres Transformers fics that have been in the works since 2021, and old Mega Man ones since 2020 and below that are lost media

I'm a huge perfectionist (which is why I selfship with Cell.) and to see my work flop tremendously makes me upset. I write in AUs to avoid canon being touched and liven up worlds. I set myself for failure with having those unrealistic expectations. I don't want to be famous just want to connect with people who like my work but not enough to where they're a fan. Is all.

But I'm tired of writing about OCs about canon. I want to create my own FandomVerse with OCs but I can't. I tried with Steampunkochi for an x Reader.

I think it was better when I wrote that yandere isekai x OC fic because it was different, my Frieza x OC fic and my Husk x OC fic. Those three had lots of attention then there's Midnight.

I'm just demotivated and exhausted. I don't have the creativity I did 10 years ago anymore. I struggle with writing sentences. P sure I don't know how to write my own OCS due to forgetting their memories.

But yes. I don't write canon x Canon. Or canon stuff because of how traumatizing it was to have people dogoile me over ship discourse and how ships should be with others. I barely write for the Zarbon x Cell crackship since it was a one time thing for an OC that changed.

I want to write and do my own FandomVerse but I don't know where to begin. It has a lovely cast of characters. But will people be interested? I don't know.

[pervysenpaix]

Murphy's Law | Alpha! I. Midoriya

A/N: This has been sitting incomplete in my drafts for months because I lost interest but the beginning was cute and I didn't want it to go to waste so I wrote some shitty smut just cause, yeah. read it if you want I don't really care ☹️

TW! ABO dynamics, ProHero/Aged Up, Alpha!Deku, Omega! Reader, Clumsy Reader, Accident Prone reader, condescending deku, reader is attacked and deku saves her, yandere deku if you squint, strangers to lovers, vaginal fingering, marking, not proof read poorly written 💔

18+ NSFW Content| MDNI

   

Murphy’s Law, in its simplest form, claims that “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. In other words—you were a walking fucking disaster. 

Absolutely accident-prone. Wherever you went, chaos followed. It had been that way your whole life. You’d labeled yourself as a “clutz” thanking God that you were lucky enough to never get seriously hurt from your negligence, but it seemed that your luck was running out.

The chill of the night air did nothing to quell the sweat beading from your flesh. Brisk wind nipped at your skin, exacerbating the potent stench of a frightened omega. Yes, you were clumsy and, at times, forgetful but you always remembered to wear your blockers! 

It was just a crazy morning, and you were running late, and you assumed that it would be fine because you lived so close to the restaurant. But you didn’t expect the place to be so busy, or for your boss to have you stay an extra hour. Then two. Then four. And before you knew it you were doing a double closing shift because you were the only one available. Poor unlucky you.

That lack of luck continued when you begrudgingly passed a rowdy pack of males that were congregating outside of a liquor store. You ignored their whistles and lewd comments, clutching your bag and picking up the pace. Most of the men shrugged it off, calling you a tease or a “stuck up bitch”, but one pair of lustful eyes lingered—the same pair that were getting dangerously close. Just a few more strides and—

“Caught ‘ya!”, he growled. 

The fowl stench of alcohol mixed with the alpha’s licorice like musk made your stomach lurch. You struggled in his grasp, screaming, flailing your arms and kicking wildly until you landed a good hit on your assailant who didn’t appreciate it at all. 

“Stupid bitch” he grunts, wrapping his hands around your strands and bashing your head against the brick wall. Pain blooms in your skull and you feel yourself quickly losing consciousness but before darkness consumed you—you don’t miss the emergence of an earthy aroma soured with anger followed by a blur of green. 

Then nothing. 

A scent reminiscent of lush forest meadows and the sound of light tapping and beeping pulls you from your slumber. It was a welcomed change from the potent odor emitting from that feral alpha last night. The memory overcomes any lingering drowsiness, and you bolt upright. 

The tapping stops.

The sudden movement proved un-advantageous. Bile rose in your throat with dark spots clouding your vision. A figure emerges from the corner of the dimly lit room reaching your side in a fraction of a second. His scarred hand holds a basin to your face, and you ungraciously empty the contents of your stomach. It’s painful and unsightly. You search for something to ground yourself settling for his thick wrist while you sob and dry heave over the container. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice was soft and soothing, but still held confidence. “I am here”.  Soft purrs rumbled from the alpha’s chest, while you retched beside him. Moments later, the alpha placed the basin on the bedside table and brought a damp towel to your face. Gently, he cleaned your face. It wasn’t until the cloth left your skin that your eyes fluttered open settling on the stranger. 

A gorgeous set of gemstone visionaries met your own. Sparkling with warmth and a hint of mischief and slightly covered by forest green strands from his messy undercut. Plush pink lips were pulled a slight smirk, highlighting the trademark dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. 

“You’re… You’re— Deku” he finished for you, flashing a close-eyed smile. “And you’re (Y/N) (L/N), recessive omega, correct?” 

You blinked. “I- yes … How did you—

“Well, you dropped your purse during the attack, and I got your name from your ID card. As for your second gender, sweetheart a beta would smell you even with all the suppressants they have you on. What happened to your blockers?”

An inexplicable feeling of shame was brought on by his furrowed brow and sudden condescending tone.

“I didn’t take them this morning… I forgot”, you tried to look anywhere but his face. You could feel the disapproval in his stare.

The alpha shook his head and frowned.

“That was extremely reckless. An unmarked omega with a scent as strong as yours should never leave the house without some form of suppressant.” He paused, leaning forward to sniff your hair. “Do you not have a partner or anyone to check on you?” 

 Your face felt extremely hot as you shook your head “no”.

“I see...” he continued with a smirk, “Do I need to inform the nurse that you lack a babysitter?” 

“A b-babysitter!?!? I don’t need a—I’m not a baby!” you sputtered, gaping at the large man. He brought a finger to your chin and closed your mouth, earning a cute squeak at the contact. “Oh? But big girls wouldn’t forget to take their blockers, especially if they’re going to be out so late. Do you understand what could’ve happened if I wasn’t patrolling the area?”

“Yes but—

“So, you knew better but still didn’t do better. That doesn’t sound like an adult thing to do.” He cooed; lips upturned to mimic your pout.

“No!” you snapped, ignoring the Pro-Hero’s raised brow. “That’s not it! I never usually forget, it was just a busy morning and I live close to my job, so I didn’t think it be a big deal but then my boss kept asking me to stay and it got later and later, and—

“So, what you’re telling me is that you’re not only forgetful but a pushover as well?” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Wha— y-you’re mean”

 Izuku wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes watered due to his words. You looked like a defiant child. Absolutely helpless and in need of a caretaker. A hero. 

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt your little feelings, but it’s my job as a hero to make sure that people are safe. Don’t you not want me to do my job?”

More guilt. Here was the number 1 hero trying to ensure your safety, but you were acting like a little brat. Maybe you aren’t a “big girl”.

“m’sorry” your voice was small, but he obviously heard you, humming for you to continue. “I didn’t mean to sound rude. It’s just that I have really bad luck and it’s frustrating that I always get in these positions. Thank you for saving me though, Mr. Deku”.

That’s interesting, he thought, hoping you’d elaborate on what you meant by “bad luck” but when you didn’t continue, he just smiled.

“Just doing my job!”.

A few weeks have passed, and things progressed normally. Izuku found himself thinking of you from time to time but it’s fleeting. He’ll catch himself visualizing those pouty lips upturned into a frown as he scolded you and sometimes, he imagined your deliciously sweet scent. Like right now, as he patrolled the streets his senses were suddenly flooded with your delicate saccharine aroma. It was a welcomed distraction from the repetition of his route since things had been slow today. His inner alpha grew restless from the blossoming scent that seemed to get stronger and stronger.

The observant hero scanned the area but saw no immediate signs of you. It wasn’t until he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply that he realized that you were two streets over in the college district, so he started to head in your direction. Your scent wasn’t as potent as it was during your first encounter, a sign that you’d remembered your blockers, but it would be impossible for him to miss since it was embedded in his mind. 

Turning the corner, he saw you frantically running up the sidewalk towards one of the university buildings. A report folder was clutched in your fingers with your bag propped haphazardly on your shoulder. It was apparent that you were a student and running late. You babbled frantically into the phone that was balanced between your ear and shoulder, so engrossed in the conversation that you didn’t notice a speeding car until it was blaring its horn after you walked into the streets without looking. You stared at the vehicle like a deer in headlights, unable to do anything but accept your doom. But then electricity crackled in the air, and you were whirled to the safety of the university stairs. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this”, the hero smirked down at you. It was comical watching the little gears turning in your head realizing that Deku had saved your life yet again. There wasn’t much time to admire him in the hospital but right now you were close enough to count each freckle in the diamond formation on his cheeks. He was so handsome. And it felt so good in his arms. So safe. 

“I— You were interrupted by the ringing of your phone. “Shit!” you cursed, pushing off the hero and running towards the doors. “Thanks, Mr. Deku!

“And then there was one” Deku muttered, slightly pissed at your rudeness. This was the second time he’d saved your life. Where was your gratitude? Entitled brat, he thought. What he wouldn’t give for a chance to correct your behavior. 

A week later, incognito Deku was heading out to enjoy the day. It was his first off day in weeks, and he decided to treat himself to a nice meal. He decided on a western style café/bakery that Kirishima had recommended a few weeks ago. Upon entering, he was immediately met with your confectionary scent. Izuku remembered that you worked at a restaurant and since you weren’t Japanese, he assumed that this was your place of employment. 

Izuku approached the dining counter, waiting to be served, and was pleasantly surprised when you came from the back to take his order. 

“Welcome! What can I get started for you today?” you chirped sweetly. 

“Hmm—a proper thanks would be nice”. You stilled at the familiarity of the voice, squinting at the unknown patron. Izuku pulled his mask down revealing his familiar array of freckles and pretty plump lips. “Its you” you smiled, leaning forward with your elbows against the counter. The action presented your exposed cleavage nicely and Izuku found himself licking his lips. “It’s me” he rasped, eyes traveling between your chest and face. 

The action did not go unnoticed, but you chose not to comment. Probably just a coincidence, you naively thought.

“Well, thanks for saving my life twice, Mr. Deku” you whispered his hero name with a coy smile playing on your glossy lips. It sounded so sweet.  “It was my pleasure, (y/n)” he whispered your name in a similar fashion while taking your hand in his larger one and running his thumb over your wrist, and you visibly shivered at the contact.

“s-so” you stammered, pulling your hand to wipe against your apron, “what would you like?” 

You he wanted to say but you were already flustered. He hummed and tapped his cheek, “I have a taste for something sweet.” His eyes dipped back to your cleavage, and he licked his lips. “Any suggestions?”

Now you definitely weren’t imagining that. 

“U-um well, w-we have lots of desserts, l bake some of them”.

 That piqued his interest. 

“Oh?” he asked, and you nodded. “Mmhmm, it’s a hobby of mines and my boss lets me try out different recipes. Today’s special is Strawberry Rhubarb pie but with a twist!” you declared proudly. “A twist you say?” he mused, leaning over the counter and reveling in your giddiness. You leaned forward and put your lips close to his ear, covering your mouth with your hand. “I add a sprig of mint for freshness” you whisper, tickling the shell of his ear. “It’s my secret ingredient”.

Fuck you were adorable. All excited like a child presenting a new skill to their parent. It took a lot of willpower to stop his cock from straining against his jeans, but he managed. 

Deku leaned back with a smirk, “Well then, it’s settled. I’m gonna have a taste of your little pie”.

Three slices of pie and a pitcher of coffee later Deku had learned that you were an international student at the university’s business school and had dreams of owning a restaurant one day. You’d also disclosed that you didn’t really enjoy your job, but you didn’t have any financial support. Pretty much helpless and alone, forced to work a crappy job so you wouldn’t get kicked out of your even crappier apartment. On a lighter note, you told him some of the things that you were into, and he found that you two had a lot of common interests. It was a pleasant surprise that you were a bit of a “fan girl” and he happened to be your favorite. 

“Like it’s just my luck that I meet my all-time favorite person while I’m moments away from death”.

Midoriya frowned when you told him of all the different mishaps you’d gotten into the past few weeks. He counted 23 times that could’ve resulted in serious bodily injury or worse. The alpha wanted to just put you in a little bubble and keep you safe from yourself. 

“Have you ever thought about— oh shit”! 

Somehow, you’d managed to trip over air and spilled the pitcher of coffee on his hand as you were going for a refill. 

“Oh! Ohmygodimsosorry!” You scrambled to wipe his hands clean but ended up spilling more on his pants. The situation was quickly becoming a spectacle, customers snickering, and passersby pointed through the windows. You were so embarrassed and could feel yourself unraveling. 

The kitchen door slammed open and out walked your supervisor. He was fuming. Throwing out a string of curses before his eyes even landed on you. Tears welled in your eyes as you braced yourself for the routine berating that you’d get every time you messed up during your shift.

“You useless fucking omega!” He seethed, “Can’t do anything right. What are you good for besides laying on your back?”

Midoriya was furious and was itching to use black whip and yank out his weak beta fangs one by one, but he noticed the change in your scent and saw the way your body shook in fear and shame. He was on you in an instant. Pulling you against his chest and releasing calming pheromones. His hood came off in the process making the crowd gasp when they saw his green curls.

Long story short— he broke your ex-supervisor’s hand, told him you quit, and carried you bridal style all the way to his home. He explained that you would never be setting foot in that place again and that he’d be taking care of you from now own. When you tried to protest between sniffles, he just shushed you and pressed your face closer to his chest. 

You were now sitting in the bathtub while Deku rinsed conditioner from your freshly detangled hair. Izuku kneeled behind the tub with his chin resting on your shoulder. He was content. Humming softly as the pads of his fingers traced your skin. Neither of you spoke. His hands felt so good on your skin—it was easy to just “let go” like he suggested when he first undressed you. Your heavy eyes had shut at some point but fluttered open when his hand ventured down to part your thighs.

Izuku nuzzled against your neck just as his fingers slipped through your sticky folds to circle your clit. Soft kisses pressed against your skin left a burning trail down to your scent glands. His tongue rolled against the flesh eliciting needy whimpers and whines. You bared your neck—encouraging his musings, gasping when sharp fangs began to prick your skin. The hero chuckled darkly loving the way you melted for him. So pliant. So perfect. 

“Being so good for me right. So good. Spread those legs a little more, that’s right. So pretty” He cooed sweetly, “Love takin’ care of you like this. You like it too, don’t you baby?” A particularly lewd moan was the only response you could muster given the fact that he’d just slipped a thick digit in your needy hole. “ ‘course y’do, bunny. ooo—you got so t-tight just then. Wanna be my little bunny?” Izuku suckled at your glands sending your omega into a frenzy. She was screaming, crying, desperate for him. You wanted him so bad that you could taste it. “Please ‘zuku. Wan’ it back. Need it, Alpha” you hiccuped, grinding your cunt against the heel of his hand. “Want it all. Wanna cum. Wan’ your cock. Wanna be yours, mark me please al-ahhh~~

Sharp fangs pierced your skin immediately sending you over the edge. Izuku suckled at the mark, prolonging your climax. Your body eventually settled in the pink tinged water, exhausted. Your eyes fluttered shut but you felt something hard prodding at your lips.

“Say ahh, bunny”.

Taglist| @xogabbiexo , @yo-nn , @plussizeficchick , @m00nchildthings , @mhathotfic , @7inaa , @namjoonswifeyy , @tenyaiidasslut , @urfavsinna , @megumischubbycheeks , @unsatisfiedanddisappointed , @erenyeagerswhore , @tsukihime25 , @endeavours-jockstrap

[tiredmamaissy]

Issy i wanna share my prompt with you i hope you dont mind 🤭🩷 I had a lightbulb moment reading a yandere neteyam fic. I have a more detailed version in my drafts but imma cut it short.

Neteyam has two wives; you and another woman. When she first came into the picture things were cool right. But you noticed Neteyam becoming more interested in her a couple months in.

Its like he's forgotten that your were his first; his first love, kiss, hickey, fuck. Everything. You and him still have sex, but thats what it is. Sex. It used to be love making, there used to passion. He used to whisper sweet things in your ear. Now when y'all have sex its like he's just doing it because he has to. Its like he dont care about your needs and wants, he doesn't care about your pleasure. Its become a task for him. It used to be something that you both enjoyed. Fuck man, no aftercare king no more either.

Of course along with that; he stopped visiting you during the day when you were working, no lasting kisses or big hugs. No checking on you or picking your favourite fruit or flower. Its like looking a stranger in the eye, if he'll even look your way. He has completely detached himself from you. And you, poor bebe, have almost become detached from reality. Its like the life got sucked out of you; you've lost weight, your hair is brittle there is no more flow to it, your smile does not reach your eyes. And her, the other woman is so full of life; she has meat on her hips and thighs, her skin is glowing, and her mane of hair is shiny and soft, her smile is as bright as the sun.

You want to speak to him, but he's not the same neteyam that you used to speak with underneath the stars, tucked away in eachothers arms. You're afraid you will sound as weak as you have to come to look. You're scared that he will actually say he doesn't love you anymore because honestly you don't think he does.

A plot like this requires a sad heartbreaking depressing ending. (Yes I've got a couple in my drafts) But fuck that. Either you find a new man or y'all get back together. Also Neteyam's traits for this prompt are not dark per say. I'm sorry im dragging this on but i need to say; he was always that shy young man, though confident he was never over the top. I guess you could say he grew too big for his own boots, he developed a sense of hmm ugly boldness, too sure of himself. He started to like the idea of having these woman waiting in line to suck his toes, you know what im saying? 🤣 But um yeah, guess he thought it made him more manly, to be such a desirable figure in these woman's eyes.

I have more but let me leave it at that 🥲 this is just like the outlines of a story and its already making me sad 🫡 help me.

Anon pls my heart is hurting already 😭😭😭😭 I feel angry w neteyam rn. Bitch I’m going to leave that man rn and go to Ralak cus FUCK. If that other bitch is so good you can have her 💔 okay but are you going to finish this cus I need revenge

[escapewriter]

im curious what your process is like in terms of planning the coffee house diaries? since it's something that you have put so much time and thought into, i was just wondering if you wrote an outline or rough drafts for each part that you are going to put out?

i love this question agghh

so i first put this out in december of 2020 as like a christmas/new year surprise so its been quite a while and i havent finished it yet🤡

how i planned it: i just knew i wanted to make a series where it was connected. not something where the series is the plot of the entire thing (like lost cities which is another work im going to continue later). but i just wanted to make one where all the members were in one universe.

with that idea, i obviously needed to have a theme or au universe. so the basic one i knew was university au, but i wasnt sure how i would just tie it around that because then it would get repetitive, so i added the cafe au in there.

the names were just coffee orders that i googled lol. and for the title ‘the coffee house diaries’ my friend and i both brainstormed ideas til we ended up with what it is.

as for the plots, i started with wooyoungs. i didnt even have a clue what i wanted to do with the others. but then once i finished it, and i had a little break in between with other projects, i found motivation and made a whole outline that lists the basic ideas of what i wanted to happen for the other stories.

once that was down, i kinda of just went from there. but i have to redo hongjoongs because it was deleted💔 curse you google. but yeah, that was the thought process lol.

thank you for asking, i love talking about this!!❤️