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=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒍 : this was a quick drabble I left to die in my drafts, I need help deciding whether to finish it or not •=•

☆◦ 。2:25pm┊ 僕のヒーローアカデミア

"She said I was pretty?"

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : when Bakugo finds out you like him, he starts to act differently, suspiciously different…

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : Bakugo x fem!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : fluff

masterlist | bnha masterlist

Bakugo sat in his high school classroom, trying his hardest to focus on the lesson at hand. But it wasn't easy - his eyes kept wanting to close, struggling to stay open after another sleepless night spent tossing and turning in bed. His eyes starting to burn from the sheer force of trying to keep them from closing and head bobbing back and forth as if a brick was tied to his forehead, keeping him from sitting upright in his chair.

Just when he felt himself start to doze off, he felt a familiar vibration in his pocket. Groaning inwardly, Bakugo pulled out his phone to see what was so important that it couldn't wait until after class.

It was a message from Kirishima, one (if not only) of Bakugo's closest friends. He opened the message, expecting to see another meme or inside joke that Kirishima had sent his way, which started to become a daily occurrence.

But upon opening the red-head’s message, his eyebrows knitted in confusion when he found that it was a video instead - and the subject of the video was you.

Bakugo's heart began beating painfully faster as he wondered why Kirishima would send him a video of you, let alone even have a video of you. He didn't understand what was going on, but he wanted to find out.

Quickly, but discreetly, he put his headphones on and pressed play on the video.

—

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

Within The Haze

Chapter One: Corrupted File: Error

Chapter Two: Restore_File-Backup_[Upload]

Total chapters: 2/3 posted

Rating: General audience, PG-13, swearing

Summary: A hazy night, fuzzy memories, and deep bruises... Something is amiss. Tyrell Wellick wakes up from a nightmare and has to piece his lost memories together.

There's an uninvited guest and a sinking feeling in his gut.

Ch. 2 Sample:

….

Than why had he …?

His eyes found deep purple splotches across his body and had a yellowing afterglow under the skin. They were thick with fluid. The damaged muscles ached when he moved as he twisted and turned around in his inspection. In particular, his throat was deeply damaged, set with a heavy line of bruises wrapping around the front of his throat. His adam’s apple sent a sharp life of pain when he swallowed.

His hands grazed the sensitive flesh, massaging the sore muscles against the sensation.

His fingers slipped across the area, a single hand covering half the mass. It was clear he had been choked.

A pierce of fear lept through him, feeling his sense of control slipping. He really was breakable, a china doll.

He sneered and gritted his teeth, sharply striking himself across the face. He mustn’t be so pathetically feeble.

I understand that this is not my usual shitpost, so look away now regulars (if you exist), but the rules on r/ocpoetry are a bit overwhelming, so here ya go:

Can you see the devil?

Can you see the devil?

He's in a row of masks

Holding a baton

Behind a wall of glass

Can you see the devil?

He's pouring himself a drink

Polluting the crowd

Pushing them to the brink

Can you see the devil?

He's sitting in a leather chair

His footstools are starving

But he really doesn't care

Can you see the devil?

He's pounding the table

Preaching blood-red hate

From the bar to the stable

Can you see the devil?

Look across the gap

Find yourself a bridge

Then simply look back

~~~~~

Light Sleeper || Peter Parker

A/N: drumroll pleaseeeeee! my first ever peter parker fic!! super excited to write for this fandom bc of been reading a lot of peter lately, be gentle please 🥺 also my last three fics have something to do with sleeping,, so if you couldn’t tell i am in dire need of cuddles LOL.

word count: 900ish

prompts: “Ow, oka- OW, CAN YOU STOP HITTING ME WITH YOUR PILLOW?!” and “you just tried to kill me!”

WARNINGS: there’s like.. one curse word lol. all fluff & laughs here!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

Often times you labeled yourself as a light sleeper, but not the ones that would jolt awake at the sound of a creak in the floors or sirens of ambulance in the street. You were prone to waking up to louder, more abrupt sounds, like the banging of a window.

Which was exactly the sound that woke you up.

So as you stood beside your window, frozen with fear and a death grip on your pillow, you cursed yourself for not taking your brother up on his offer of having the bedroom without the firescape hindering your view of the city.

Your breath was caught in your throat when the perpetrator slowly wiggled your window open, the outline of arms hugging onto the windowsill while they pulled themself through. A squeal of fear left your lips as you smacked down on the back of the figure in the dark with the pillow clutched in your hands — it was your firmest pillow, so it could only do so much damage.

A surprised yelp emitted from the figure, the faint outline of their body showing that they were using their arm to shield their face from your rapid hits. “Y/N!” A voice called out your name, but their words were muffled by the thumps of your pillow whacking their body along with your shrieks.

“Ow, oka- Y/N, CAN YOU STOP HITTING ME WITH YOUR PILLOW?!” The voice pleaded in a shout, hand reaching out to grab something, quickly finding the pull-chain of your nearby lamp and yanking on it. The pitch black that was your bedroom immediately illuminated, exposing all of your decorations as well as the figure in front of you —

Who just so happened to be your boyfriend of almost a year, Peter Parker, who’s face was home to a completely amused, yet horrified expression.

Almost immediately the grip you had on your pillow fell limp, and it slipped from your hands and onto the floor. You stared bug eyed at the boy who was peeking at you between his arms that were still guarding his face, jaw slacked in shock. The stunned look quickly faded to one of frustration as you hissed, quietly, “Peter! What the hell are you doing here?!”

Peter’s arms fell from his face, revealing his navy blue Midtown High sweater that paired with his grey sweats. He was clearly here for more than just a beating from your pillow. You watched as his cheeks flushed a faint pink color under the dim lightly, lips twitching into a shy smile as he opened and closed his mouth to splutter out some sort of explanation.

“I was- I was just- you know, I was swinging around and thought I’d stop by!”

“Stop by at,” You paused, glancing back at your digital clock on your nightstand to read the time while gesturing to it with your hand. “Two in the morning?”

His cheeks darkened at the sight of the smug look on your face, knowing that he was caught in a lie, even if it wasn’t a good one to begin with. Peter scoffed, his warm brown eyes accentuating the soft look on his face as he slowly stepped towards you, snaking his arms around your waist. “I just wanted to steal a few cuddles from my girlfriend,” He mumbled, and your heart practically melted when feeling his lips brush against your forehead, “But she just tried to kill me.”

You gasped mockingly at his teasing words, pulling your head away from his to gape at him with a cheesy grin. “I thought you were a predator!” You exclaimed in between giggles, and the sound of it made Peter join in with you. When the laughter died down, you both held a steady gaze with soft smiles. Your hands were tangled in his soft brown curls, fingers running through them repeatedly and watching as the boy’s eyes begin to flutter shut in enjoyment.

“I’m sorry for beating you with my pillow.” You mumbled, jutting your bottom lip out to help sell yourself. Not that you needed to, you didn’t cause any damage and Peter had forgiven you as soon as he had you in his arms. He simply shook his head, lips curled up into his adorable smile, backing you up slowly until the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed. Once laying you down, Peter carefully climbed over you and settled into the space next to you under the covers, pulling you to his chest.

You let out a content sigh, letting your arms wrap around his torso and your head fall onto his chest. You felt so safe in Peter’s arms, his embrace was like a second home to you. Getting a hug from him never failed to brighten your day or put you at ease, and you were thankful you had someone like him in your life to keep you grounded. Nuzzling your face further into him, your head moving as his chest shook with a chuckle, his arms tightening around your waist as he peppered small kisses to your hair.

As your legs began to tangle together, your breathing began to even out, and the two of you began nodding off to sleep, you felt a lazy smile grow onto your lips.

You were way more appreciative of being a light sleeper from that night on.

Don’t Forget Me

I’ve never written anything before, but I’m so obsessed with tbosas I couldn’t help myself.

Warnings: Mentions of death

Treech x Reader

“The odds were never in our favour.”

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Your name echoes in the square. Everything goes silent, so dreadfully silent.

Please let this be a dream. Please let this be a dream. Please.

You stand there trying to remember how to breathe, totally stunned. The blood in your body is frozen. The minutes tick by, but you cannot bring yourself to move. You can faintly hear the crowd murmuring, but the ringing in your ears overpowers them. It isn’t until someone nudges you that you are brought back to your body and slowly start to walk through the crowd. It feels like you are walking to your grave.

Once you find your place by the mayor, your eyes begin scanning the boys' section, hoping to find Treech. As if by just looking at him, everything would somehow be okay. When you spot him, he’s already staring at you. His eyes were full of what you can only describe as pure heartbreak.

You’re too distracted to notice when the mayor walks to the second bowl. Until the second familiar name of the day is called, it feels like someone’s punched a hole in your chest as you watch the blood drain from Treech’s face. The shock of the moment barely registers in your mind. How can this be happening? Out of thousands of slips, your names get drawn!

The boys stir and make a path for Treech as he walks robotically towards the stage. His eyes never break contact with yours. As you watch him ascend the stairs, you fear you might start crying, the tears burning the back of your eyes. Before you can stop it, a soft, choked noise escapes you.

The pitying eyes of your district make you want to scream. An hour ago, you still had a future, and now you were a dead girl walking. You feel weightless like the slightest breeze will whisk you away. Part of you wishes it would. Your only anchor is when Treech reaches out and firmly grips your hand, a silent promise to stay by each other's side no matter what.