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horsegirlwarcrimes · 25 days

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Alright, you have answered me again (SY gets two daemons sounds extremely interesting! The "what the fuck happened to Shen Qingqiu" Peak Lord meeting in this AU is going to have some shit to talk about, huh!) so now I'm moving on to the next in my list of WIPs I'm really super curious about - Scooby Gang Juniors? Juniors fics are so fun what shenanigans are they getting into?

auw im literally dead u r so kind ( ;´ - `;)♡

scooby gang juniors, actual title some 'Never Love An Anchor' lyrics bc thats the theme song of this fic, is actually the first longfic i ever started writing! it has also been a WIP for mmm. four years or so. i started writing it right after watching the untamed for the first time in 2019 lmao, but never finished it because at that point id never written ANYTHING as long as it was gearing up to be (the outline is 20k). i hope to finally finish it and post it some time soon, probs after WINR and the ZZL&YQY fics are done. its probs some of my fav writing ive ever done but never shared with anyone haha

summary: Wei Wuxian may have drafted a ritual for willingly bringing someone back from the dead somewhere in his madness in the caves of the Burial Mounds, but if he did it was never found. In the absence of a convenient literal ghost from the past to help exact his revenge, Nie Huaisang turns to the next best thing: his old friend's son.

Meanwhile, Lan Sizhui finds a man buried deep underground with soft, familiar eyes.

[Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen, and Wen Ning go on a life changing field trip, dodge their worried parents, and dig up some corpses, in approximately that order.]

“When I realized how deeply affected by the Yiling Patriarch Hanguang-Jun was, I began to realize where this slip in righteousness had come from. You see, while I and the rest of the cultivation world believed that Lan Wangji had been in secluded cultivation for three years to move to a new level in his cultivation, or because he had been wounded fighting the Yiling Patriarch, the truth is much the opposite. Hanguang-Jun was in seclusion as punishment, for siding with the Yiling Patriarch at the Siege of the Burial Mounds. All along, these famed enemies had secretly been allied.” Jin Guangyao shook his head, expression deeply sympathetic even as the cultivators of the room began to turn to Hanguang-Jun. Hands went to swords, only remaining undrawn due to the thick tension in the room that had yet to break. Hanguang-Jun stood immovable through it all, flawless as jade and cold as ice. “I believe the Yiling Patriarch must have altered his mind, and had been using his demonic arts to corrupt him as far back as the Sunshot campaign. Now, with the feared patriarch dead, it seems this would no longer be such an issue. But Wei Wuxian left one final plan even after his death, a fail-safe to bring ruin to the cultivation world once again even when he was long gone, and he entrusted that plan to Hanguang-Jun before his death.” At last, his eyes met Sizhui’s again. Sizhui’s mouth tasted electric, the buzz of the room crashing into him in waves even as it narrowed just to himself, his uncle at his back, his father, and the man before him. He inhaled through his nose and straightened, perfect Lan posture and the ribbon on his forehead proudly on display. He narrowed his eyes back at Jin Guanyao and did not drop his gaze. Jin Guangyao smiled, a flicker of amusement, before he regained his expression of earnest concern to address the crowd. “I found proof in the records of the Wen work camps, and writings recovered from the Nightless City. You see, Lan Sizhui, ward of Hanguang-Jun and First Disciple of Gusu Lan, was neither a war orphan nor a poorly concealed bastard, but instead a child smuggled out of the Burial Mounds before the siege.” Jin Guangyao swept a sleeve over Sizhui’s group. “Honored cultivators, I stand before you to reveal the surviving heir of the Qishan Wen Sect. Called Lan Sizhui but born Wen Yuan, the son of Wen Xu and his first concubine. Cousin of the Ghost General, and former ward of the Yiling Patriarch, already beginning the work of reviving the Wen and overwhelming the righteous sects with demonic cultivators.” In the chaos, only one voice cut so bitingly through the noise. Calm and cold and sure, Sizhui latched onto it with all his heart. Anything to avoid looking behind him, at the friends he had lied to. “So you admit it.” Said Hanguang-Jun, unmoving from his spot amidst the Lan. Jin Guangyao blinked wide eyes at him. “I’m sorry?” Hanguang-Jun stepped forward. Even with his name being almost literally dragged through the mud, cultivators still parted around him with automatic deference. “You admit you knew children were being tortured, in your work camps.”

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

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i can’t close my eyes alone ; satoru gojo

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep.

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there.

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek.

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue.

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub.

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow.

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting.

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes.

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic.

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him.

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn.

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it.

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow.

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid.

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do.

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help.

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression.

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two.

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless.

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly.

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue.

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress.

and satoru stifles a coo.

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu.

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology.

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him.

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

#im not arguing w satoru gojo lol . whatever u say princess ! <3 #this is an old piece that i polished a lil (lot) phshdh so the writing might not b anything special but !! i kinda like this toru .#just sleep-deprived n grumpy <33 #gojo has this duality where he can be silly n goofy but then also serious when he needs to be… n kinda gruff….#but then he also has this. Sincere Tenderness to him. that i think would bleed through w someone he loves #hhhhh i love this man w all my heart T_T #usually i make all my fics gn but. smth abt satoru gojo …. callling u his pretty girl………… yeah. sorry. for being this way #me personally i would fold immediately but i respect reader for trying #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you

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b-o-e · 1 year

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silly lil wally things :) Wally Darling x Reader

this is a list of my wally fics. these can be read as oneshots, although they are also written to be readable as a series, including specific nods towards prior fics and such. although it is not necessary, it is highly recommended to read them in the following order. enjoy!!

snorrrk mimimi - When you wake up in the morning, something is different…

paint me like one of your french girls - You weren’t the best painter, nor were you the best at picking up hints…

alone with you - You and Wally sneak away for a breath of fresh air, providing the perfect opportunity to try to get your feelings off your chest.

the plan - Wally, desperate to get you to pick up on his feelings for you, sits down to try and sort out a plan with his wingmen.

late night confessions - The phone ringing late at night allows opportunity to come knocking.

sleepy phone call - You find yourself unable to fall asleep, leading you to call Wally in the late hours of the night.

promise - Wally convinces you to sleep over for the night.

kiss farewell - After a night spent at Wally's, he walks you home.

town gossip - News spread quickly about you and Wally, but what actually are you?

first date - Wally asks you out in a date, but little does he know.

alone with you, take two - Jealousy isn’t a frequent feeling for Wally, but sometimes, things get on his nerves.

(done.)

these can also all be found on my ao3.

I have a ko-fi as well, if you would like to support me!!

thank you so much to everyone for your support on my works so far. i truly, deeply appreciate everything. it means the world to me, as do you <3 have a wonderful day!!

Posted Tuesday, May 9, 2023, at 10:16 PM

#wally darling x reader #wally x reader #wally darling #welcome home x reader #welcome home #i truly hope you all know how much you comments reblogs and likes mean to me :))#i get so much joy from it #i have so much fun interacting with those of you who leave comments and asks as well :) you hold a special place in my heart <3 #i'm about to go through all my fics n fix some shtuff up #painnnn lol

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binarybitex · 2 months

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old cardboard castles art master post!! 📢

here's david standing in the doorway from this specific snippet. he's feeling......... guilty. scared, maybe.

some promos i did. i might redraw the first one in my current style, i like that its a polaroid to fit with david's picture taking knack.

when i first started releasing chapters, i did these scene mockups in the style of the actual show. the purple sketchy one is an unfinished redraw from 2023 :]

a max turnaround, trying to stay true to the shows style ofc. max and his walmart leather jacket lmaooo

this one is literally based off ONE fucking line in the entire thing. i just thought it was cutie patootie

and lastly, the cover for the print edition i did for christmas 2021. i loved how these turned out, but it's a shame they didn't print out this well!! oh well, it was a lovely learning experience.

#this was so fun to put together. i love revisiting this work. its so special and near to my heart #thank you to everyone whose enjoyed it too <3 #maxvid #maxvid fics #maxvid fanfiction #writers on ao3 #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #original writing #tumblr writers #fanfic

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missmeinyourbones · 1 year

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Oooo if I'm still on time to send a tiny request I'd like to go for levi + fake relationship trope!! 💕

…

"please?"

"no."

you shoot levi a frown, one that’s supposed to make him feel bad, but based on your roommate’s unwavering glare, you’d say it’s unsuccessful.

he returns his focus to scrubbing the glass in his hand, but you’re at his shoulder before he can fully ignore you.

"look, i'm desperate," you plead.

levi lets out a dry laugh that holds anything but humor, "clearly, rude, and still no."

you huff and cross your arms in defense. all you’re asking is for is levi to pretend to be your boyfriend for one little night. your mother throws an annual dinner party during your monthly phone call, you’d panicked and told her you would be bringing a special someone this year.

it’s just to get her off my back, is what you told both yourself and levi, but the nausea in your stomach says otherwise.

"you don't even have to do anything,” you continue to argue. “just be tolerable and maybe hold my hand once or twice."

levi’s eyebrows raise in interest.

"oh, well when you put it that way,” he watches you perk up in excitement before ripping the bandaid off and returning to his blasé tone, “absolutely not."

"oh come on,” you obnoxiously groan. “i'm not that bad, am i?"

levi slows his movements as he grabs another dirty plate from the sink and begins to scrub calculated circles onto the glass.

in defeated silence, you grab the towel next to him and pluck the plate from his hands, drying it off and setting it aside with the other clean dinnerware.

the two of you get into a familiar pattern of washing and drying. and after a moment of stillness, levi speaks up.

"it's not you."

the faucet drips onto the soaking plates below and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"what is it, then?"

he sits on his answer for a moment before clearing his throat with a cough. "i'm not familiar with fake boyfriend etiquette," he claims.

you turn to face him, "levi, there's no such thing as fake boyfriend etiquette."

he ignores you and you place the towel back down onto the counter in frustration.

"come on, just for one night," you’re begging at this point, "and next month when my mom calls, i can say we broke up the next day."

a sour taste floods levi’s mouth at the thought of him meeting your mother under such tasteless conditions.

sure, he’d love to attend your family party with you, but not as your pretend boyfriend—as your roommate, then as your friend, and then maybe as your real boyfriend. what’s so hard about that?

"y'know, it'd be nice if i got to meet your mother and she didn't hate me for the rest of my life," he scoffs at the makeshift plan you seemed to have on deck.

you quietly laugh a bit at his dramatics before grabbing the soaked pan from his hand and setting it back down in the sink.

"don't you mean the rest of her life?" you tease.

"no," he retorts, "because at the rate this is going, i'll be dead from high blood pressure in a month, at most."

you shoot him a knowing look and he rolls his eyes in response.

his stomach churns when you lower your voice one final time, sincerity overflowing from your sweet request, "please?"

levi knows he’s going to agree eventually. hell, he knew he’d be going to this party as your fake boyfriend whether he wanted to or not the very moment you popped the question with a slight pout.

because he’d do anything you asked of him, including tasks far more advanced than whatever your roommate agreement laid out. so when you grab his wrist and look up at him with pleading eyes, he’s already planning which suit to wear to your mother’s house.

"fine."

#hiiiiii v thank you for requesting this!!!!#i feel like i haven’t written for aot in so long ???#but i shall always make an exception for you #and this reminded me that writing levi always has a special place in my heart <3 #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi fic #levi ackerman fic #levi fluff #levi ackerman fluff

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angelmichelangelo · 9 months

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hi hi!! love your writing sm!! and i was wondering if you had any fic idea between 2012 leo and mikey! i feel like their bond as oldest and youngest brothers is really sweet 🥺

thank you! hope you enjoy, thanks for the prompt! :)

Mutagenic goo rains down from the dark sky in thick splatters. Leo’s breath is ice cold in his chest as he takes desperate heaves to swallow it down.

The remains of the Mega Shredder lay still across the long stretch of road, unmoving and in pieces, there’s a faint trill rattling around in Leo’s head.

He lifts himself up off the floor. His limbs feel like lead.

He makes a disjointed reach for one of his katana’s. There’s a lone nunchuck laying beside it.

Where’s Mikey? His heart slams into his chest in a second. Where’s—

Donnie and Raph have appeared in front of him. How they managed to reach him in such succession, he neither asks or cares. They look furious.

“You took him with you,” Raph seethes. His sai’s wink at him where he’s got them in tight grasps at his sides. “You took our little brother with you on your suicide mission.”

Leo tries to speak — tries to defend himself that Mikey insisted he come with! But words fail him, sticking in the bottom of his gut, he tries to twist away to catch a glimpse of his youngest brother but Donnie is catching his wrist with his hand and forcing him towards him.

“It’s your fault!” He more or less growls at him, like a wounded animal. His entire face knits itself together with unbridled anger. “It’s all your fault!”

Leo’s chest grows tight. His legs seem to be buckling from beneath him, certain that the only thing keeping him upright is Don’s iron grip on his arm still.

“What will you tell Splinter?” Raph spits. When Leo looks towards him there’s a wet, glossy sheen clouding dark, fierce green eyes. “How will you tell him about what you’ve done?”

Leo chokes on the words that won’t come, replaced with hot, burning bile instead that’s creeping up his throat, he whines instead and then —

A scream. Loud and shrill and all three brothers are turning so fast they all nearly lose balance, and it’s April, crouched over a familiar, unmoving shape and…

“Don’t look.” Casey is here too now. He looks… haunted. “It’s not good.”

Leo tries to scream. But nothing comes. His throat is raw and burning, but no noise is able to escape him.

Leo wakes with a start, his heart crawling back down his chest again, he feels it pounding across the inside of his plastron.

His palms are slick with sweat as he rips his blanket off his legs, swinging them over the bed he steadies him as he stands.

It… it was just a nightmare.

The dark corners of his room slowly come more into focus as his eyes adjust to the night. He quickly regains himself by pointing out the details that he knows:

His Space Heroes poster that’s tacked up on the far wall, a little creased and torn after finding it in the middle of an old, outdated magazine.

The old martial arts book that Splinter gifted him long ago; the spine cracked from overuse and the bookmark that’s wedged two thirds of the way in.

This is his room. His eyes slide towards his nightstand where his lamp stands. Flicking it to life, a small explosion of orange hue lights up his corner of the room, illuminating the framed photo that stands there beside it.

He swallows thickly.

It’s an old photo, taken when they were maybe around twelve years old, growing into themselves still evident in the bulk of their shells and the muscle lean, Mikey takes up most of the frame with his wide, toothy smile and bright eyes and Leo feels his chest clinch.

His nightmare was exactly just that. Something sour tickles the back of his throat. But it had almost not just been a nightmare. Today it had very nearly become a reality.

The bitterness refuses to budge even when he swallows again, so he moves from his room towards the kitchen in refuge of water. He stops short when he notes the figure standing at the fridge before he can get there first. “Oh.” Mikey says shortly as he whips around. He doesn’t have his mask, instead pulled around his neck loosely, this way Leo can make out the purple rings that circle his brothers eyes. The tiredness that’s etched itself deep across his boyish face. “Busted,” he grins. “Oops.” Leo sighs, dragging a hand down his face like it might rid him of his own exhaustion, he only manages a small, weak huff of a laugh. “Yeah.” He says. He moves closer, Mikey making way for him as he reaches for a bottle of water. “Why you up so late?” Mikey holds up the bag of shredded cheese in his grasp before reaching in with the other hand, bringing out a handful, he grins at him. “You won’t tell dad, will you? That I’m making a midnight snack out of his stash.” Leo snorts. “He always finds out,” he says plainly. “He has the nose for it.” He pauses. “Literally.” Mikey shrugs, having weighed up the consequences already it appeared, he tips his head back, opens his mouth and sprinkles in the cheese. Leo watches him as he unscrews the cap off his bottle. “You know cheese before bed is bad for you,” he tells his brother warningly. His own nightmare ebbs around the corners of his mind. He takes a swig of cold water like it might just wash it away entirely. Mikey hums. “Yeah.” He sets the bag down on the counter. “Couldn’t sleep anyways.” He says it like it’s so normal. He says it in a way that has Leo’s gut growing hot and cold at the same time so he puts his drink down and sucks in a breath. “Yeah, me neither,” he tells him. Two days ago, Leo truly thought he’d lost his little brother. Two days ago he’d watched a monster devour his sibling, tossing him down his gullet without care. Two days ago he’d felt a grief and rage burn so hot inside him, he could feel the after effects of it healing within him. He isn’t so sure how Mikey is here, standing before him entirely unscathed after that entire ordeal, but he isn’t going to dispute it. Still. Guilt is eating away at him like a growing parasite. He shifts from foot to foot and Mikey gives him a sideways glance because he’s always the first to notice when something is up with one of his brothers. “I need to apologize,” Leo blurts before Mikey has a chance to talk. He averts his gaze, ashamedly, staring at the bottom of the fridge instead. “For the other day.” There’s the rustle of the cheese bag where Mikey’s got it in his hold again, fingers dipping in for seconds. “Apologize?” He questions. “For what?” Hurt bubbles up in Leo’s chest like an ugly blister. He closes his eyes but all he can picture is his father’s horrified face when Leo tells him what happened. How he… how he almost got Mikey killed. “I should never have put you in danger like that. The other day, at Shredder’s lair.” His throat bobs. There’s still that awful taste lingering there. Regret, Leo thinks it might be. Regret and shame. “It was a really stupid thing to do.” “Put me in danger?” Mikey says after a beat, voice catching onto an airy laugh. Little bits of shredded cheese fall around at his feet as he waves his hand about. “Leo. I chose to go with you. You didn’t make me – if anything I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” Leo’s quick to shake his head at that notion. No. He thinks sourly. This was never his fault. Mikey sets the cheese back down again, this time to reach over and land a hand on Leo’s shoulder.

He looks up to face him. Baby blues blink up at him. He’s still a little taller than Mikey but as he stands here in the dull light of the fridge bulb, he notes how much more he’s filled out in the past months. The shape of his arms no longer distinguished by stubborn baby fat. The way his shell seems to fit him a little more snug now (with still some space to grow because he’s always going to be the runt, but Leo would never admit that outloud to him.) This brother right here resembles nothing to the picture he has in his bedroom. He’s not a kid anymore.

“I’m okay,” he tells him, voice low and gentle. “I survived and so did you and yeah it was a little reckless what we did, but when are we never not stupid?” Leo laughs, something wet and wobbly sounding in his chest. He draws back a shaky breath. “Dude. I get it. You’re my big brother, you guys are always gonna worry about me. Nothing is gonna change that, not in this lifetime anyway.” He smiles, all soft around the edges and knowing. “But I can handle myself. If I’m doing stupid shit like getting eaten by Mega Shredder’s it’s because I did it all by myself. Not because of whatever mistakes you think you’ve made.” Leo’s heart squeezes around itself. “But–” Mikey shakes his head back at him, cutting him off swiftly. “Nuh uh.” He moves only to put the bag back in the fridge, closing it, the room quickly fills with darkness. It’s a familiar comfort. “We’re done here. So you can either go back to bed and sulk about it or…” his mouth curves upwards into a slight grin. “Or we can totally watch the Space Hero’s made for TV movie with the subtitles on until one of us falls asleep.” He gives Leo a pointed look. “Your choice, bro.” And truth be told, Leo doesn’t like sulking all that much. Not when he’s doing it alone, that is. So he follows his brother into the pit where there’s already an array of blankets and Mikey’s found the VHS tape in mere minutes, sniffing it out like a bloodhound and they watch their movie on mute as Mikey grows heavy against him, eyes drooping shut, Leo doesn’t nudge him awake or remind him he needs his eyes open to watch the subtitles. Mikey might be right. He’s old enough to make his own choices, whether they’re good or bad. It was just part of growing up; Leo knows he’s had his fair share of bad decisions in his lifetime already. His little brother wasn’t a baby anymore. He was a fully fledged ninja – he’d proven that time and time again and yet–

Leo carefully reaches over his sleeping sibling to drape one of the discarded blankets over his form. Mikey doesn’t stir and Leo feels his heart pinch. And yet. He was always going to be his littlest brother still. No matter how big and brave he got – that was one thing remaining unchanging.

#this was so fun to do. 2012 leo and mikey have such a special place in my heart ;___; i hope you enjoyed this anon !#once again these do go up on ao3 as well so please check them out there too! :3 #thank youuu !! <3 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fic #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo

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