"i Don't Hate You" K. Bakugo Mha Smau

"on the run" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: You and Touya get chased by U.A kids 😨

Warnings: Vulgar language, mentioned "plug"

A/N: your pookies back and in business

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Hey,

I have another question for you 👀

Could you imagine writing for House of the Dragon? If you’ve watched it!

Have a good day/night🫶

Your reader ❤️

Heyy, I might have another answer for you 👀

I haven't watched House of the Dragon, nor the Game of Thrones series, but if I ever did watch them, I would absolutely write for them! It might be the next show I watch, but I already have so many shows, so it might be a while before I get to them!

Have a good day/night 🫶

hey yall, my friend js started doing requests too! send in an ask for her and she'll do it 😋

Heyyy!

hey guys! So I’m thinking of writing on tumblr (I use ao3) so here’s what I’ll write for.

Creepypasta IT 2018

SDV

JATP

and many more. I kinda just pulled those out of my ass lol. Just request and I’ll tell you if I can do it :)

Hey,

I wanted to ask if you could write a story with Patrick Hockstetter.

So I thought roughly that the reader could be Beverly’s older sister and also belong to the Loser Club. She used to be bullied by the Bowers Gang! But she and Patrick somehow had feelings for each other! But because of a bet in which Patrick is supposed to seduce the reader, the reader finds out and is angry and sad at the same time as Patrick, who really liked the reader!

The reader moves with her sister Beverly to her aunt's place and Patrick and the reader haven't seen each other since! And then 27 years later, she is also called by Mike like the others from the Loser Club, but what they don’t know is that Mike also called the Bowers Gang to get even more support (All from the Bowers gang except Henry who is in psychiatry). How will the reader react when she sees Patrick again after 27 years?

So in principle, it should be about the second part of IT but this time involving the Bowers Gang!

Patrick and the reader could end up like Beverly and Ben, with a happy ending!!!

An enemy-to-lover story would be cool. 🫶

Ps: As an adult, Patrick is normal, please. And Maybe he could look like Alex Meraz as an adult.

Could the reader please have blonde hair with water-blue eyes? 🫣🫶🫠.

Hope you like it

Your reader 🫶

I am currently writing this one out!!

I just want a man above the age of 52 to hug me and tell me that its not my fault :(

guys we need new names for ticci toby. it's the name his bullies used to use and it low key is really tacky. 😭

drop suggestions in the notes please, I want really cool axe murderer names, like "The Hatchet's Weilder" or something. 🙏

"weed or us?" "weed!" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: someone stole from you 🤫

Warnings: idfk some vulgar language and weed?

A/N: we're doing this ig. dabi does not know the difference between "two" and "too." you both are also flirty with each other and it will escalate as stories go on. also I made a mistake with smth twice says, don't mind it 🤗

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"together 💕" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: you, dabi, and my queen toga have plans you can't discuss or the haters will sabotage you 😈

Warnings: language, the usual smoking, you're finally in a relationship‼️

A/N: so so eepy

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"Love Me Dead- Ludo" Part Two

Loud, chirping birds were not the greatest thing to wake up to with a headache, neither was the wolf spider on my pant leg. The blinding sun wasn’t either, and the twigs stabbing into my back definitely weren’t. 

Groaning, I wince and put my hand over my eyes to block out the deadly rays. The breeze did feel nice, and the smell of the forest was nicer.

I was just about to go back to whatever sleep I woke up from when I realized something that was just a bit off-putting.

I live in the city.

Sitting up too quickly for my head’s liking, my breath hitches in my throat as I take in my surroundings. Trees, trees, a squirrel, trees, and oh look! More trees.

I’m practically hyperventilating when I try to stand up, and I hiss in pain as I look down at my feet. Taking in my appearance, more dread fills my body. No shoes and no socks. 

Whoever took me was kind of smart; a very bad thing.

I wipe the leaves off my jeans and shirt and start scanning everything I can that was in my eyesight, hoping that there was some kind of human life out here.

Not seeing any, I sigh and curse under my breath, knowing that I have to suffer through no foot protection to find a way out of here.

I cringe with every step I take, knowing the amount of blisters I’ll have. Something heavy falls on my right shoulder after a few steps and I freeze. 

I stop breathing as I notice through my peripheral vision that the heavy object is indeed something sharp and that there’s a gloved hand holding it.

It pulls back, slicing through my shoulder when a pop comes from the hand’s wrist. I scream and fall to my knees, hand reaching up to hold the wound as I cry. The person behind me snickers, and crouches down next to me. 

They’re a man, and the object he holds is a hatchet. One that really fucking hurts. 

“Let’s replay our l–last game from last ye–ar, m’kay?” He grins, his neck popping to the left. “You run, and I’ll find you again!” Giggling, he stands back up and puts the hatchet into the harness wrapped around his waist, and I notice the other one on the other side. 

“I can cl–close my eyes if that makes you feel an–y better.” His god-awful smirk makes me want to vomit, or maybe that was just the fear coming back from last year.

Whatever it was, I shuddered and quickly stood up, making a run for it.

“One, two, three-” His voice fades away as I go, and I’m too high on adrenaline to notice the cuts and splinters in my feet. The trees all look the same, the rocks, the logs, everything.

Nothing changes as I run.

Panicking and realizing that I’m still running in a straight line forward, I start taking lefts and rights to throw him off. Is he still counting? I doubt it. Last year he gave me at most five minutes to run, probably less now that I think about it.

I slow down due to my shortness of breath and look down to see a rather large splinter on top of my foot. Something feels off and I get the urge to kneel down and pick it out, so I do.

The second I bend down, a whoosh comes from above me, and I look up to see an axe halfway through the tree in front of me. I widen my eyes and look behind me, seeing him standing there at least 15 feet away.

His hand twitches, his neck popping to the left once again. Before I register the fact that that tree could have been me, I sprint away once again, completely forgetting about my lungs and the splinter in my foot. 

"Inseparable" Part Three

As she laid back down in bed with Patrick she tried to fall asleep. Yet to no avail, she couldn't. Patrick woke up later on in the morning, slinging onto her like a wild tick; a very unlikely thing for him to do.

She eventually got him to calm down and managed to get him to latch off, after some swearing and somewhat empty threats. Still questioning everything that happened, she pressed him even further about his dream and why he was acting like he was.

While he explained his dream, Y/N only got more confused. None of it made sense to her at all. Flying leeches? Some red and white clown? A blue fridge? He was frustrated when she said she couldn’t understand, and she told Patrick that it was only a dream after she got him to calm down again.

Y/N tried her best to get him to believe her, and soon the room fell silent, save for the heavy breathing and occasional sniffles. She felt he was leaving something out, something important. Wanting to find out, she offered to go on a walk to get some fresh air.

They walked along their usual path and talked about Y/N's week to clear the tension, and it seemed to work. Patrick was easier and his normal ass-hatted self, but still rather jumpy.

They were joking around about how some kid Brandon had actually pissed his pants when Henry said “I’m gonna beat you like how your mom beat my dick last night,” when Patrick had stopped and kneeled to re-tie his shoe.

Y/N had looked over the playground while waiting and saw something floating by the swing set. Frowning, she squinted her eyes to try to see it better. It was the red balloon from earlier.

“‘Trick, look!” She tapped Patrick’s shoulder and whispered. He looked over to where she was pointing, but as soon as he did, it disappeared.

He uttered a ‘huh’ dumbly and watched the empty swing go back and forth, and his skin got colder each time it did. Y/N sighed and pouted a bit, “Never mind.”

Patrick looked up at her and studied her face as she kicked at the gravel on the pathway, his eyebrows furrowing. He didn’t like the way Y/N made him feel sometimes. How it felt like he had tapeworms in his stomach anytime she’d accidentally touch him, or why he always felt like he had to keep the gang away from her so they didn’t do anything stupid.

Or how every single time she’d cry about her day, he’d get a little jealous of whoever made her cry. Sure he felt bad for her, or as much as he could anyway. But her tears should be for him to see, and him only. Just for him. 

He knew what those feelings meant. The last one, at least. He excused it, though. Blamed it on puberty, and he’d get rid of it by finding some town slut to ride his dick.

But the other feelings? He hated those. Sometimes he’d think about killing her so they’d stop. He couldn’t bring himself to, though. Patrick kind of liked Y/N, and not in the way he wanted.