Katsuki Kissing You While You're Crying And You're Pushing Him Away.

"Do you believe in love?"

No but I do believe in a 100k slow burn y/n fic so it's the same thing technically.

idk if anyone has ever talked about this but katsuki REFUSES to buy you flowers from the grocery store. like will not even look at it and will steer you away if he even catches you looking at it.

he genuinely looks at you crazy when you ask him why he’s avoiding the huge display of flowers because he cannot fathom why you would want “those cheap ugly shits” over a bouquet from the florist filled with your favourite flowers.

you pout when he drags you out the grocery store and back home only to wake up the next morning to a fresh bouquet on your bedside table with an obnoxiously large orange ribbon that screams katsuki name and a homemade breakfast from yours truly <3333

idk if you take requests but i feel like tsukishima is the type to return your love letters graded

omg i can totally see this 😭😭

----

to see your love letter that you had given to tsukishima yesterday being returned in your shoe locker definitely broke your heart. however, your sorrow quickly dissipates when something catches your attention.

"did he actually just grade it??"

a "6/10" is written in red ink at the top right corner of the envelope. you scoff in offense, taking a second glance at it. "the audacity..."

you take out the letter from the envelope to skim through it. you spot other writings in red ink too, underlining some of your words and commenting on them. there are criticisms like, "too sappy", "your handwriting is illegible", and the one that pissed you off the most: "unnecessarily longwinded, cut to the point". damn him, you spent so much time trying to craft the perfect letter, to think you even fell for that bastard.

for your sanity's sake, it is a relief you finally got to the end. at the bottom, it writes:

"you should have confessed to me in person, dumbass, then we would have settled on a date earlier."

then in smaller letters, "i guess i like you, too."

your heart stops. your grip on the paper loosens. you blink, staring at those last few words.

a grin slowly grows on your face.

"that fucking bitch."

----

a/n: sorry i just spammed words and this came out. uh, happy valentine's day??? when i received this request, i laughed so hard. to clarify on whether i do requests, i think the more appropriate term would be "suggestions". i write based on how i'm feeling and inspiration, so i may or may not write your ideas. take it as a gamble :P i appreciate all of your messages though!!

edit: damn this piece had so many mistakes wts

Me with you guys simping over hot men

girls when they can’t find fanfics about the character they’re currently obsessed with :

(it’s me, i’m girls. i’ve already read them all)

i think adrien is his own friend group tbh

luka is the missing person because they wrote him out of the show please give me my wife back

When I realized the akumatized Couiffaine family had a theme, I had to draw it!

THIS WAS SOOO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN WOWW

The Weight of a Shadow | G.W.

George Weasley has spent his life as one half of a whole, his individuality often lost in the glow of his twin’s boundless charm. Beneath the laughter and mischief lies a quiet struggle, a longing to be seen as more than a shadow. But when you enter his world, something shifts, and for the first time, George finds himself seen, not as a twin, but as a whole. In this universe, you chose him.

Click here to read an alternate universe where you chose Fred instead of George.

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

Fred always seemed to burn just a little brighter. His laugh, bold and wildfire-strong, lingered long after the echo of their pranks had faded. Applause always found him first, the crowd magnetized by his magnetic confidence. Even in quieter moments, it was Fred they gravitated toward—his charm effortless, his presence undeniable.

George would smile through it all, as though the comparisons didn’t sting, but deep within, an ache brewed. A quiet storm he kept to himself.

Maybe it was the way Fred's grin tilted, sharper and more self-assured, or the ease with which his voice commanded attention. Perhaps it was something intangible, something George couldn’t touch even if he tried. Whatever it was, it gnawed at the edges of his heart, a silent weight he carried alone.

And then, there was you.

You arrived one sunlit afternoon, a quiet force with a magic that had nothing to do with spells or wands. Unlike so many others, you didn’t lose yourself in Fred’s blaze. You didn’t mistake George’s laughter for an echo, or his presence for half of a whole. The way your gaze lingered on him felt like sunlight on frozen ground, a warmth he hadn’t realized he’d been yearning for. You saw him. Truly saw him.

At first, George doubted it. Surely, you’d mistaken him for Fred, like so many others had. But you disproved him at every turn. You caught the subtleties. The way George’s humor leaned toward sharp wit, while Fred’s was louder and bolder. The precision in George’s hands as he worked on their inventions, where Fred’s energy was a chaotic whirlwind. You noticed the faint scar above George’s brow, a remnant of a long-ago experiment gone wrong. And when you touched it one day, your fingers brushing the mark with such tenderness that it left him breathless.

For the first time, the ache began to fade. Slowly, it dissolved into something lighter, something warmer. When you laughed at his jokes, it felt like the world cracked open to let the light in. When you spoke his name—just his name—it was a melody that played only for him. And when you reached for his hand, your fingers tangling effortlessly with his, it felt as though the universe had quietly clicked into place.

Fred noticed, of course. He always did. He had been George’s mirror for as long as they had existed, and the change in his twin was impossible to miss. George’s laughter came easier now, his smiles unguarded and brighter. And Fred saw the way you looked at George, with a kind of quiet adoration that pierced straight through his own bravado.

But Fred never spoke of it. Not when George’s smiles grew wider, not when the light in his eyes burned brighter than it had in years. For the first time, George seemed to stand taller, as if the weight of comparisons had finally lifted. And Fred, who had always been the center of attention, found that he didn’t mind stepping back.

One evening, as the sun painted the sky in fiery hues, Fred watched from the doorway as George sat beside you, your head resting gently on his shoulder. There was something in his twin’s expression. A peace Fred hadn’t seen before, as if George had finally found his place in the world.

“You make him happy,” Fred said later, when it was just the two of you in the kitchen. His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual bravado. “And that’s all that matters.”

You turned to him with your brow furrowed, searching his face for some trace of resentment or longing. But all you found was warmth, tinged with something unspoken.

“Fred,” you began, but he waved his hand with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “Really. George deserves this. He deserves you.”

And he meant it. Even if there was a small, quiet part of him that ached for something he couldn’t name, Fred would never let it show. For all his charm and bravado, his heart had always been his most closely guarded secret. And in that heart, George’s happiness mattered more than anything else.Still, as he watched you and George from the shadows, a quiet thought took root in his mind — a thought he would never voice aloud. If your opinion mattered so much to George, it mattered just as much to Fred. Perhaps even more.

many months into your relationship, bakugou becomes the kind of boyfriend that needs to be touching you in any way at all times. in the car, his large hand is on your thigh. around his friends, his arm is around your shoulders, or you're playing with his fingers. at dinner with his parents, he's holding your hand under the table, occasionally rubbing his thumb comfortingly on your hand. when you guys are alone and he’s tired, he's even worse. his face is buried into the crook of your neck as his huge body swallows you up. he’s leaving feather-like kisses in his wake while he's whispering the corniest, lovey-dovey shit ever that he will undoubtedly deny saying in the morning when you mention it. you say he's possessive, his and your friends think he's just embarrassingly obsessed with you.

Thomas Astruc to Natalie, Adrien, Ivan, Felix, Chloe, Zoe, Tom Dupain, Luka & Juleka, and Emilie:

“YOU GET DADDY ISSUES, AND YOU GET DADDY ISSUES, EVERYONE GETS DADDY ISSUES!”