#writing recs

[zerolostwalks]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love. ❤️

ooooh thank you! In no particular order (and potentially with some cheating because one or two of these may end up being series):

I Could Be The Monster (M)

Reggie fell. Luke could barely wrap his head around the news. He wasn't particularly surprised, the rate the three of them had been going at this point falling was an inevitability. But he always figured if, when, they fell they'd fall together.

I'm With You - The series (M)

Julie finds herself in a world where she is the only person left. Or is she?

Hanging by a Moment - The series (T)

Luke Patterson is still working through some grief when he has an unexpected reunion.

Hello Baby June, Goodbye Heart - WIP, co-author @daintyduck99 (T)

When Julie and Reggie’s paths cross in a unique and unexpected way, their lives easily seem to become more and more entangled…especially because they are both rather endeared to her daughter.

Where I Belong (G)

It all started with a comment Ray made after they finally finished telling him the truth about the band. “It’s not like ghosts can choose where they haunt.” Except the more Luke thought about it, the more the sentence didn't make sense. What was Ray’s comment supposed to mean anyway? Are there even rules for how ghost haunting works?

[painsandconfusion]

What whump bloggers do you think write the best? Not asking about the most refined plots or character lineup. I'm asking purely for sentence by sentence writing skill.

Oh goodness, uh

Just off the top of my head, the ones that have consistently blown my mind with their styles and general writing excellence are @avvail-whumps, @distinctlywhumpthing, @wormwriting, @shywhumpauthor, @ashintheairlikesnow, and @peachy-panic

These aren't even really blogs I rb a ton or have seen lately, they just immediately came to the forefront of my mind when I read this question, so that's my answer. Likely not a complete list, just a gut response.

[takadasaiko]

For those of you that read my work, you know I knock my characters around a bit. I’m also very interested in honest portrayals (within the world) of injuries, so this is a fascinating read so far.

[miirohs]

Idea: You’re dating Chan secretly but you go out with SKZ one day and dispatch snaps a photo of you and Hyunjin claiming you two are together , even though Chan was also there

❤️❤️❤️

AWWW OMG THIS IS ON MY LIST NEXT!!!1 TYSM ANON!!!!

[giggly-squiggily]

Hii Sguiggilyy!!

I’m trying to look for this blue lock tk fic but idk if you were the one who wrote it or if it was another person T^T

The plot was like, Bachira was in his usual playful mood, teasing everyone and such. But then chigiri snaps, like annoyed and he said something he regretted later on.

Chigiri walked out the room and kunigami followed then they talked and kunigami comforted him(and tickled him >:3) then after he apologized to bachira and ended up being tickled again.

I’M SORRY IF THIS IS SUDDEN BUT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO FIND THIS FIC FOR A FEW DAYS AND I’M BECOMING DESPERATE😭😭😭

Have a nice day/night!!

ANON I GOTCHA!

That fic is by the lovely @myreygn! “All’s Well That Ends Well” I adore this fic so much so I knew exactly what you were referring to!

Hope that helps! 💖💖💖

[hergan416]

#28 and #30 for the AO3 Wrapped, Reader Edition, please

28. Did any line/passage stick with you after you read it?

Yes, many. I'm sort of going with "passage" loosely because it's really the imagery and ideas in many cases, although sometimes it's just a line.

I'm most explicit about it because of how much it also influenced my writing in this comment thread from Malafide, but hyper's (@user-needs-new-hyperfixation) works in general were so so important for me as I first got into the fandom. Books & Blessings also is like the platonic WL character study to me. The image of Louis just sitting on the steps waiting for Will to come back from sneaking out of the house is just golden. [Also just the imagery of the mezzanine in Love, In All Its Disrepute... "and yet... "Safe," Albert answered" or something like that. -shivers-]

The mycal dancing scene from Dying Wish (SlvrSoleAlchemist1 and Dear_Partner) is also so strong that I literally have assigned Miley Cyrus' Flowers as a mycal breakup song from Albert's perspective because this is just their dynamic to me now, forever. Also the moment when they come back to the apartment and it's filled with TOO MANY FLOWERS and fuck anyway. Very good times, I think my brain will return to thinking about both those scenes forever.

Honestly, many of my mycal thoughts in general are probably more the words written by others.

Also oshiholic writes super vivid stories and I carry all of them with me. fragments (or, how not to pick up the pieces) is especially vivid because OUCH but like, honestly all of it. Yeah. All of it. [most ships involve an AW or WL element]

I already answered 30 (surprises for the year) here. But I did miss one thing:

That I stopped reading so many things because my hyperfixation changed. If I have a reading goal in 2024 its to catch back up with the ongoing fics that I had been gleefully enjoying for years and just.. stopped reading in order to make more time for writing and reading a different fandom. As this ask very much demonstrates... I did a terrible job of keeping up with my other fandoms this year. In all the ways.

They absolutely deserve better from me.

[animentality]

kicking a hornets nest.

[lieutnt]

god i’m going feral over this

the tails locking together is an amazing idea and when will it be my turn

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

[copper-meadows]

It terrifies Bruce, a little, that the first time Batman and Robin pull up to a mauling victim, Robin is acutely calm.

The girl is young, and Batman and Robin were made known to the scene pretty quickly as Batman scares off the dog with a taser.

Despite being the adult, he balks a little at how well Dick handles the toddler in front of him.

Later on, when the girl is seen by paramedics and the mother is finally calmed after being assured that the only physical damage present would be some scarring on her left leg, Bruce takes Dick out for ice cream for being so brave.

Then again, Dick was the one to threaten death upon his parents' murder at the ripe age of 9.

But the incident is filed away, deep in the archives of the BatComputer.

Dick is much older, and has seen much more, but he's still calm when one of his brothers is half-torn apart by a shark on an impulsive surfing trip with their hero friends.

Everyone is panicking because as much as they'd loathe to admit, seeing something that gory is so completely different than being in costume (because being in costume means they're at the very least prepared).

But Dick is calm, and his first aid more immaculate than ever.

When someone asks him about it, how he can stay so calm, he's suddenly 7 again.

He's 7 again and watching his Uncle-not-really-uncle getting mauled by one of the sick tigers. He's watching as his father rushes to help and calms the crowd down.

When he asks his father why he was not scared, he receives this.

"I was terrified for my friend, but panic makes your hands shake, makes you slow. He did not need my fear, he needed me."

Dick tells them that.

[subzeroparade]

finished reading most of your bloodborne fics over the weekend and scampered over to your tumblr to get on my knees and thank you for the EXCELLENT writing. recently got into bloodborne after a long winter of borrowing my sisters ps4 and im immensely grateful at the plethora of great stuff I found at ao3. i trust your taste and i was wondering if you had any fic recs? short, long, anything goes 🥹

thank you for the kind words anon, it's very appreciated <3 i adore writing but also find it incredibly depleting, so knowing people are enjoying what i've put out is always very reassuring. to be honest i don’t really get around to reading all that much fic myself, mostly because my irl reading list is outrageously long (i may have left full-time academia, but that has not changed). so you might have better luck asking someone else, or maybe perusing other people's bookmarks on ao3? but it would be wrong for me to not mention those i’ve beta read for recently in the bloodborne fandom: @lizteaart, @wikipedianna and @cephalololopod have done some real quality work recently, each with their own style and strengths and great insights. additionally, i don’t beta for @tinygigas but i’d be remiss if i didn't mention their work, too, which i adore. you can find them all on ao3. hope that helps! here is a (languishing) Ludwig WIP from a scene in chapter 2 of Wormwood

[innerenigma]

•Normalize Fanart for Fanfics Again You Fools•

It's not cringe anymore (it SHOULDN'T be cringe anymore), just do it. You're doing something you enjoy, who cares what anybody else says! So spread the words my fellow internet brethren.

Spread the Word :)

[kaipassedgo]

every day i wake up and am mad at the end of steves storyline and the full and complete lack of people who GET IT

[orcboxer]

those first couple weeks after escaping a time loop have gotta be disorienting as all fuck. all those little cues that used to tell you what's about to happen are now triggers that cause you to brace for something that isn't coming. you have to relearn the permanence of death -- hell, you have reacquaint yourself with the entire concept of finality altogether. everything keeps changing but it never changes back and you keep having to remind yourself that this is normal. "it won't reset anymore," you echo to yourself, over and over and over, like a broken record, like you're still trapped in a loop, like someone who escaped the time loop but was doomed to bring it into the future with them

[industrations]

I recently re-read Beneath a Big Blue Sky by @eyra and this fic just brings me so much joy that i had to draw a little something for it.

If you haven’t read it go do so and leave a nice comment <3

[lady-lunaaa]

your laughter spills out unavoidably: golden and bright, like the first rays of sunlight streaking across the skyline through the pane of glass over your bed.

This is my favourite line, so beautiful 💙

on again - shigaraki tomura/gn!reader (1.4k) fluff, established relationship, college!au, sfw-ish, half-serious threats of bodily harm from mirko

"tomura... tomura wake up."

but tomura doesn't want to wake up, even as you shake his sleeping form with progressively greater force. that much is evident by the way he buries his face further into your floral printed pillowcase, fluffy strands of his hair falling over his closed eyes, with a petulant groan of protest sounding from the back of his throat.

"tomu, i'm not kidding. rumi is going to wake up soon and we have to sneak you out of here before she beats both of us up."

it's the truth and you both know it. your friend and roommate is more than capable of handing either of you your asses, and if she catches your on-again-off-again boyfriend slinking out of your shared apartment one more time (after you'd sworn up and down not even a week ago that this time it was really over) she most certainly will.

"tomura, i love you but i am not willing to die for you," you whisper insistently, jostling him again. "wake. up."

tomura cracks his eye open, though you already knew he was awake because of the way his breathing had slightly changed: the rhythm in his chest shifting into something a little more conscious the moment he'd felt the first gentle touch of your hands.

he blinks at you tiredly from under his fringe.

"no."

"no?" you echo incredulously.

"no." tomura agrees, repeating himself once more. he lets his visible eye flutter shut, squirming under your covers as he tries to get cozy again.

you gape.

"do you have a death wish?" you ask him. "last time rumi caught you here she threatened to peg you with your own dick. are you not aware of the anatomical implications of that threat?"

tomura huffs in irritation, reaching up and twisting his long fingers into the collar of the hoodie you'd worn to sleep (his hoodie, worth noting) and using his grip on the fabric to tug you back down into bed beside him. he mumbles and grumbles incoherently as he shifts under the blankets, pulling them up to your chin and snuggling himself into your side. after a few moments of wiggling around he seems contented, sighing softly and relaxing into you.

you blink up at your ceiling, wondering how the hell you'd ended up back in the exact same place you'd started. you roll over and find tomura blinking blearily at you.

"tomu--"

he blinks again, slow and sleepy.

you reach up, hands poking out from the cover of the blankets, cupping his sleep-warmed cheeks in either hand.

"--i refuse to bear witness to your death and dismemberment."

he groans, nuzzling into your touch.

"she's not gonna dismember me," he rasps out exasperatedly, his voice still croaky and heavy with sleep.

"she will," you insist staunchly, your voice still barely above a whisper in fear of waking up your roommate--even though her own bedroom is on the complete opposite side of the apartment.

"she won't," tomura rolls his eyes, lifting his head up slightly. his hair is sticking up on the side of his head that had been resting against the down filled pillow. you resist the urge to smooth it down. "i ran into her in the middle of the night."

you gasp, eyes going wide.

"she knows you're here?"

white hot fear pools in your belly, flipping yourself over quickly to look at your bedroom door, and half-expecting your best friend to burst through it at that very moment. 

she doesn't, but it does nothing to quell the dread rising in you like the sun is cresting the horizon just beyond your bedroom window. 

"why did you run into her? when did you run into her?" you ask, turning back to your boyfriend who has let his eyelids flutter closed once more.

"had to piss. you were knocked out. ran into her in the hallway," he says it all so simply without even opening his eyes--like the mere fact he escaped the exchange with his life (and his dick) is not an actual full-blown miracle.

"and she just... let you go?" 

tomura grunts, winding his arms around your waist and pulling your body into his again. his slightly chapped lips brush against your throat as he replies: "i already went. was on my way back from the bathroom."

you nudge him in the stomach with your elbow, too weakly to actually hurt, but he whines anyway. "not what I meant."

as if he can sense the way your eyes are boring holes into his tranquil face, his brow pinches in annoyance. he cracks one eye again, sighing when he sees how intently (and awakely) you're staring at him.

it's quiet for a moment in the stillness of your pre-dawn bedroom.

"we talked," he explains, though if anything it just makes things more confusing. he tilts his face so both of his eyes are visible to you now.

"you talked?" you repeat the words as bewilderedly as you might another language entirely--sounding them out phonetically though the meaning is completely lost. "about what?"

"i... apologized..." he mutters reluctantly, his nose twitching in distaste at the sensation of his lips forming the shape of the words. "for the argument the other night. for upsetting you... again." 

he tacks the final word on after brief (deserved) deliberation. 

"and she accepted it?" you say it so quietly--so hopefully--that tomura's eyes open a little wider.

he swallows. "she said the same stuff as always. told me she'd turn my bones into a wind chime if i ever upset you again, the usual--"

your eyes search his face in the dim light.

"--but yeah," his voice is quieter now too, "she did."

you know there must be more to it than he's letting on. more he must have said to appease your fiercely protective best friend into letting him stay and not dragging him out the door by the scruff of the neck and tossing him out into the cold, cruel night. he struggles to meet your gaze, shy but not guilty, and you decide to let the matter rest.

at least until daylight.

you slip down a little further in your warm bed, wrapping yourself around tomura's frame. you tuck your head under his chin, and he snakes an arm around your waist--rolling over onto his back so you're half sprawled atop him under the cover of your blankets.

"i told her i didn't appreciate that stupid stunt she pulled, though," tomura grumbles under his breath, like he couldn't quite let the topic go without making his displeasure known. "trying to set you up with takami keigo. of all people."

you bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your laughter at his indignation (and apparent jealousy) towards your university classmate and rumi’s good friend.

"keigo's the most eligible guy on campus, y'know," you can't resist stoking the flames of his discontent playfully, at least a little bit.

tomura makes an absolutely disgusted scoff at the notion. "the guy has frosted tips."

you can't help but laugh at that, burying the sound against tomura's chest as you hide your face in his t-shirt. you do find yourself picturing keigo's tastefully sun-highlighted hair and wondering if maybe it's less natural than you'd once thought.

your room is impossibly peaceful as the two of you lay there, intertwined.

"well, whatever you said..."--your fingers trace an idle, mindless pattern into his chest over his heart--"...i'm glad it worked, tomu.”

his arm tightens slightly around you. a quiet agreement.

your touch slips down a little further under the blanket, over his sternum, between his ribs. tomura’s breathing evens out as your fingers map his torso, his warm breath breaking against your temple as you rest atop him.

your hand grazes lower and squeezes.

“hey!” tomura’s voice pitches up two octaves at the unexpected grope, and your laughter spills out unavoidably: golden and bright, like the first rays of sunlight streaking across the skyline through the pane of glass over your bed.

“sorry, sorry,” you giggle, squirming against him and burrowing your face in the crook of his neck. even in spite of tomura’s apparent offence, he holds you even tighter against himself—both arms snaking around your waist to pin you to his chest. “i was just really making sure it was still there.”

you swear you hear him chuckle, too.

[miirohs]

Since you're taking requests

Poly!Seungmin & Jisung

I've NEVER seen this combo before 😭😭

don't challenge me with a good time....