The Chili Plant Made A Deal With Their God To Only Be Consumed By Things That Could Spread Its Seeds

small amnesia drabble ft osamu based on this 9yr old video that still makes me giggle. cw: little violence mention but that’s it.

The hell’s that beeping coming from…

There’s a noticeable restriction in his movement when he slowly begins to stir, lethargy sitting heavy on his limbs as his eyelids pull with visible tension.

Osamu immediately winces. “…Fuckin’ bright…”

Someone gasps at the foot of his bed.

It’s an effort to crane his neck and peek over the footing of his bed, more of an uncomfortable strain than the headache he should expect but what he finds there might just be worth it.

There’s… a cottony to the woman standing before his bed unreserved for anybody else in that typical stark hospital lighting. A fuzzy glow, unburdened by the mussed hairs that stick out of your done up hair or that blue tinge of worry that melts into relief the moment you realize he’s returning eye contact. There’s a few vending machine snacks in your hand that he watches you discard as you step closer to him, and he’s not too shy to blatantly ogle as you take a comfortable seat at his bedside.

That beeping’s gotten a little faster. “You’re up. How do you feel?”

“Dunno…” Though charmed would’a been his second answer.

“Dunno’ s a good answer.” You reply. “Better than what the other guy’s probably saying.”

“The other guy?” There’s not a lot he remembers aside the basic stuff, and you’re definitely not one of ‘em.

“The blow job that tried to hold up your shop last night. Came in swinging this big ass metal bat like you wouldn’t knock his lights out a moment later.” Your smile sparkles as you hum fondly. “Although he did knick you a few times before you could actually get at him.”

Which would explain the thick casting on his arm and the way your fingers softly graze the wrapped gauze on the side of his face. Which in turn makes him blush a little like an overgrown schoolboy.

Although the way your thumb starts to rub circles in his cheek has him breaking out in a sweat. “You saved a lot of people, ‘Samu, me including,” You coo. “But more than anything I’m just glad you’re okay.”

‘S-Samu…?

Your eyes quickly flicker to the quickening heart monitor.

Though when you glance down his face is neutral as ever. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just…” Osamu swallows. “Just havin’ a hard time connectin’ the dots.”

“Hm? Oh, has the anesthesia not worn off completely yet?”

“Don’t seem like it.”

You nod a little understandingly, straightening your back until you’re fastening your hand in his. “Hmm, that makes sense. I mean, I can’t imagine what they’re pumping you up with after a broken elbow and a few fractured knuckles. - For your sake, they don’t stop too soon,”

Osamu watches you pull his good arm into your lap and hold it there like it belongs to you, and he’s definitely not gonna tell you otherwise. “Although, the quicker we get home the better. At the very least, for some proper rest-“

“Home?”

You tilt your head a bit. “Yeah home? You know, our cozy little shoebox apartment? The one your brother’s definitely not raiding for snacks while you’re gone?”

“Wait, are - we’re…?”

“Baby?”

“Baby.” Ohhkay,” Osamu blows out a disbelieving breath. “Oh, wow. I’m definitely missin’ some important information.”

You furrow as he tilts his head to scan you over a little more. “I hope I’m not misreadin’ this. An’ I hope to god I’m not. - But are we…?”

“Do you not… remember me?”

“I’m pretty beat up about it too, angel.”

“Oh.” You glance at the I.V. still hooked in his wrist. “Yeeaah, that anesthesia has not worn off yet.”

“I’m not misreadin this, right?”

“No. No, you’re not, honey. You’re not.”

“Aye so,” He lifts himself more properly on the hospital bed. “What… the hell does a scrub like me gotta pull off to bag a dime like you, angel? Askin’ that honestly.”

And it looks like an effort not to full out laugh at the genuine confusion on his face. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I mean, when a guy wakes up to a girlfriend like-“

“Wife.”

“Wi-“ The way he all but gasps to himself has you full out giggling before you can stop yourself. “Yer lyin! Ma wife?!”

The little (see: not little) rock you wave on your ring finger is enough to turn him all but blue, especially when you reach forward to gingerly unveil the matching wedding band hanging from a chain under his hospital gown. “Your wife, baby. Made me a Miya not even a year ago.”

Osamu quietly repeats the admission under his breath as he takes a moment to digest that.

And then he’s turning to you fast enough to break the sound barrier. “Can I kiss ya’?”

You chortle as you lean in, gentle mint pervading his nose. “You’ve been kissing me, baby.”

Osamu’s putty when your lips meet.

Yeah, there’s no way he didn’t die and go to heaven.

reblog for a warm bowl of soup 🍲

IT’S NOT ‘PEEKED’ MY INTEREST

OR ‘PEAKED’

BUT PIQUED

‘PIQUED MY INTEREST’

THIS HAS BEEN A CAPSLOCK PSA

Rich boy! gojo getting all pouty because some guy hits on you at an event he takes you to and now you have a 6 foot GIANT leaning all his weight over you as he whines about not getting attention

[ WOUNDED PRIDE ] GOJO SATORU.

“satoru, you’re still pouting,” you hum, poking his cheek as he huffs.

“‘m not,” gojo mumbles, bitterly turning his head away from you. you can hear geto’s amused chuckle from the distance, making your boyfriend growl out a shut up, suguru under his breath, and because you’re supportive, you hide your own laugh.

“baby, he’s gone,” you cup his cheeks, grinning as he stubbornly refuses to meet your eyes, “you don’t have to be jealous anymore.”

“jealous?” he pulls away from you like you’ve insulted him—like the idea is simply too crazy to hear out loud, “me? jealous? what gives you that idea?”

“toru,” you snort, “you couldn’t be anymore obvious.”

“neither could you,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes at you, “you were trying to make me mad.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with faux innocence, making his arms cross.

and now his lips are even further jutted in a pout, though you know saying something will only make him more upset, so you choose to keep your mouth shut for now. but gojo can still sense your amusement, glaring at you before turning his head away with a petulant hmph.

“flirting with other men is considered cheating, you know.”

“i wasn’t flirting,” you giggle, “i was just making friends. like you told me to.”

“making friends doesn’t include zenin naoya,” gojo glares at you, prompting out a supportive yeah, he sucks from geto. gojo nods, pointing a thumb at geto in agreement, making you roll your eyes.

“you never told me you hated him,” you defend, “but i wasn’t trying to make you mad,” you add softly, cupping his cheeks again.

“yeah you were,” he mumbles bitterly. his cheeks are squeezed together by your palms, and his voice is slightly whiny—and suddenly, you think you fall in love all over again.

“i’m sorry, toru,” you smile gently, “i just thought you looked cute all pouty. i didn’t wanna make you mad.”

“i wasn’t pouting,” he grumbles, “i don’t pout. i’m a man.”

“you cry during movies,” geto points out—and you’re glad there’s no wine in your vicinity, otherwise you think gojo might splash it on his best friend’s crisp, white button down. and you don’t think his father would take kindly to the scene—which would only further complicate things.

“i’m a man with a heart,” gojo scowls, “that’s why i’m not single.”

“okay,” you break up the bickering, distracting gojo with a kiss to his cheek—he grins at the gesture, giving you one in return even though he’s still slightly upset with you (though he won’t admit it.)

satoru gojo is not a jealous man.

that’s what he’ll tell you, at least—but you know better. you can see it in the way his lips alternate back and forth from a tiny pout to an irritated scowl, in the way his eyebrows furrow with irritation, in the way he huffs and tries to act like he doesn’t care when suguru elbows him in amusement.

and it’s not as though you enjoy attention from…whoever it was you were talking to (apparently zenin naoya according to gojo), but there’s just a small part of you that’s lightly amused. gojo is like a magnet—the girls flock to him left and right like a slice of bread left out for the crows to fight for. you’re used to it by now, have learned to ignore the slight creep of doubt and simply ignore the jealous glares sent your way as you take his hand.

but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the change of pace every once in a while—the rare turn of tables that have him irritated instead of you.

naoya is a little too entitled for your taste. there’s too much expensive cologne sprayed on and you’re sure if he could without seeming tacky, he’d have left the tag on his suit to show its brand new. that’s the case with all rich people, you think, too busy watering the roots to pull for the weeds.

you don’t particularly enjoy talking to him—but you amuse yourself all the same. he’s far too cocky when he asks are you an intern for the gojo’s? i haven’t seen you before—

and before you can answer, you hear a familiar voice spit: actually, they’re my date. you don’t even hear gojo come up behind you, and you know as soon as his arm wraps around your waist, your stuck to his side for the rest of the night whether you like it or not.

“don’t talk to naoya he sucks,” gojo mutters. you nod, agreeing with him to console the bitterly wounded pride he seems to be sporting.

“he’s the worst,” you agree, “and his cologne smells gross.”

“i have that cologne,” he gasps, “it’s my favorite. you hate it?”

“no,” you say quickly, “it smells nice on you. everything smells nice on you.” geto snorts, and you shoot him a warning glance before he can make the situation worse.

gojo doesn’t look convinced—eyes narrowed and lips curled in that soft pout of his when he doesn’t get his way. it’s a bit spoiled, just a little bratty in its own right, but makes you melt all the same, pinching his cheek gently as you chuckle.

“if i were you,” geto turns to you, “i’d talk to naoya more. it might humble satoru just a little—”

“if i were you, i’d shut up before getting punched—”

“you wouldn’t land a punch on me if you tried—”

“you don’t know that—”

“actually i do because you can’t fight for shit—”

“i’m an excellent fighter—”

“alright,” you hiss, glancing at the few heads that have turned to watch the bickering between gojo and geto, making you glare at them in slight embarrassment.

“baby,” gojo whines, “tell him i can fight.”

and because his ego has been wounded one too many times tonight, you let him slump onto you, ignoring the heavy weight as you sigh and wrap your arms around him. you’re sure quite a few people are staring by now—but you suppose people always stare when you date someone like gojo.

“you could totally fight naoya,” you agree. you think you’ve finally said something right—because he seems to brighten at your words.

“i could, couldn’t i?”

“yes,” you nod, “and you smell better. and you have better hair.”

“and i’m cuter.”

“of course,” you sigh, eyeing geto for help. but he grins, sends you a small wave with mischief in his expression as he wanders off—leaving you all alone to nurse gojo’s ego back to full health.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

and though i can’t recall your face, i still got love for you ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

megumi fushiguro x reader | wc: 0.9k | L’s FOLKLORE event

The last thing he wanted to do was agree to this mission. 

He tried nearly anything and everything to get out of it. Offered it up to Kugisaki (who’s been dying to get out of Japan for quite some time now), tried to fill his schedule with local tasks to feign busy, faked a head cold the day of his departing flight. Incredibly desperate, he even told Gojo he was thinking of quitting sorcery—his knowing guardian saw right through his fib, having raised him as the dedicated helper he is today. 

It was a long one, the longest one he’s been on, yet. Months and miles away from his home, where he’d have to leave you alone in a space the two of you were meant to share. 

But that’s what a sorcerer does, what they have to do. Megumi knows this, and he knows that you know this, too. However, that doesn’t make the situation at hand any easier. 

He hesitantly agreed to the mission after a lot of begging and pleading, not because he knew it was the right thing to do, but because of the promise the two held yourselves to. 

One call a day, no more and no less, to make time for you—to feel together, though apart.

And if there’s one thing Megumi’s good at, it’s keeping his word. 

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"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐲?"

⤷ atsumu x reader | mutual pining | 0.9k words |

“Atsumu!” You call out his name, hitting your fist against the door. “Are you here?” 

It's a little late; the hallway is brightly lit, and you look up at the overhead lights, blinking and wondering if you shouldn’t have come here on such a whim. Thinking about it, you probably should have at least texted him you were coming — he might not even be here, but you were too much in a rush. 

Sighing, you raise your fist again, “Atsu-”

The door flies open and your hand cuts through air instead of the solid surface. Standing there in the doorway is Atsumu, clad in a pair of black sweatpants and a loosely fitting black t-shirt to match. He’s holding onto the handle with one hand, the other resting against the side of the frame, his pink lips stretching into a sly smile. Your stomach flips a little bit. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You wring your hands together, “Um.” 

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue and chuckling when you don’t. He opens the door wider. “C’mon,” he says, motioning his head inside his room. You stare at his back as you follow him in, taking in his broad shoulders and admiring the way his muscles ripple inside his shirt before closing your eyes and shaking your head. He’s not yours to look at. 

Focusing instead on the room, you take note of how both sides are equally as dysfunctional. Not messy, just…crowded. “Where’s Osamu?” 

He settles onto his bed, unmade, legs spread, and pushes his laptop to the side. “With Rin.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

You rock on your heels as your gaze slides all around the room, purposely avoiding his. “So…” 

“So?” He tilts his head in that cute way he always does when he finally catches your eye, smiling teasingly. “I’m not complainin’ about ya bein’ here, but you look like you have something ya wanna say.” 

He’s right. A wave of fervor pours over you, and you nod your head in determination to do what you came here for, pushing the creeping feeling of dejection far from your mind. “I need some answers.”

“Uh, huh.” His mouth twists in confusion. “Ta what, exactly?” 

“To how long it’s going to be.” Your legs take you around the small space, pacing back and forth as you clench and unclench your fists.

“Right…” He trails off. “I’m a little lost here, sweetheart.” 

You think you might melt with the affectionate name, but you brush over it. He’s just like that. “How long it’s going to be until you ask out this person you like so much.” 

He suddenly tenses, back straightening and thick eyebrows furrowing. “Oh.” Brown eyes track your movement. “I’m not, uh, sure I can answer that?” 

You shake your head. You think back to the conversation you guys had a few days ago, where he told you all about this person that he’s interested in. You remember him using words like so pretty, so amazing. A flush on his cheeks as he told you about why he likes them so much. Refusing to tell you who the person was, so maybe you could try to understand why it wasn’t you. 

But it’s exactly that, it’s not you. But it hurts every single time you think about it. 

So that’s why you ended up here, late at night, a fire in your heart. If the person Atsumu likes isn’t you, you could at least push him to go out with them. You wouldn’t be left to hopelessly pine over him, and could instead get over it as you watched him with someone else, even if it would kill you. Save yourself before you get too invested, right? 

“Why not? The sooner the better. Aren’t you the one who told me that we have to go for the things we want?” 

Atsumu pushes himself off the bed, long legs striding to you and big hands holding your arms to stop you from moving around. He looks very confused now. “I was?” 

You ignore him. “Well then, it’s time to do something.” You make sure to look right into his eyes. “If you like them so much, there’s only one thing to do.” 

The grip on your arms tighten, and you shift your hands up to hold on to his elbows. His eyes widen, and you watch as different emotions pass through his face before an excited grin grows. He studies you, “How long have ya felt this way?”

“Since you told me.” You try to match his smile, despite the way your chest sinks. “Be brave, Atsumu. I know you are.”

“Yeah.” he nods, eagerly, bleached hair following the jerks of his head. “Yeah, okay.” 

Your gaze drops to the floor. “Great…” Great. 

At least one of you guys will get to be with who they want to. You just wish he wanted you.

You try to leave his hold, but his hands just squeeze your arms, your name falling from his lips in a soft breath. 

He gives you that smile, not the confident volleyball player one, but the one that you catch him with when he’s petting a puppy, or when he’s talking to his mother on the phone and he thinks no one is looking. The one that’s reserved for soft moments, and your heart constricts. But it’s not prepared for what comes out of his mouth next. 

“Will ya go out with me?”

happy chinese new years eve eve for anyone who’s celebrating !!!!!!!!!!!!

[3:09AM]

pairing | bakugo katsuki / reader

words | 555

warnings | mentions of blood, death, and nightmares.

—

“Katsuki! Just hold on, help is coming!” you let out desperately. You cradled his head in your lap as you held his face in your hands.

He slowly raised his arm, reaching out for you. You grabbed on with fervor and clasped it against your cheek.. You watched as he strained to take in a breath.

Blood continued to escape from his wound, it coated his clothes and your hands. “I love you,” he heaved. “I’ll love you forever.”

As the light slowly left his eyes you felt despair, “No, don’t leave me! Katsuki, please!” you begged with tears streaming down your face.

You awoke with a start, immediately checking on the sleeping male next to you, assuring yourself that he wasn’t hurt. You watched his chest move up and down, feeling relief as you saw him safe and sound. You rustled the blankets around, protectively wrapping yourself up as you tried to wease your way closer to Katsuki, as if becoming closer was possible. The space between your bodies was almost nonexistent.

You closed your eyes, in an attempt to fall back asleep, but no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t calm the rapid beating of your heart. As if he could feel your distress and the shuddering of your body against his, Bakugo stirs in his sleep, “what the hell happened to you?” his voice laced with sleep.

You look up from his chest, his presence already easing the tension spread in your body. “It’s nothing, just go back to sleep babe.” You didn’t want to make him worry so late in the night, or waste his precious time to sleep.

His eyebrow raises in disbelief, “you expect me to believe that while you’re fuckin’ trembling in my arms? Nice try dumbass.” he grunts.

You let out a soft sigh before burying your face in his chest, “I had a nightmare.” The consistent thumping of his chest alleviates the troublesome thoughts that plagued your mind. It was beating loudly, unlike in the nightmare.

He cards his fingers through your hair, “stop being such a whore.” he mumbles while pulling you closer.

“Huh?” you pull your head away to give him a stare of bewilderment, wondering what he means, “Katsuki, what the hell?” You can’t help but giggle at his strange accusation.

“You’re letting your dreams fuck you over.” he mumbles. “I’m supposed to be the one that fucks you. The only one.” An obnoxious laugh leaves your lips and he rolls his eyes with a slight smile appearing on his face. It’s silent for a while, so you take it as a sign and close your eyes in hopes of falling back to sleep until his voice disrupts the quietness. “Do you wanna talk about it or something?” his voice is deep, you can feel the vibrations rumble through his body.

You snuggle closer to his chest and let out a sigh in content, “No, I’m alright. You being here is enough to make me feel better.”

“Damn right I am.” he muses. His fingers don’t cease their movement through your hair.

You place a tender kiss on his jaw, “good night Katsuki.” He hums, and places a kiss on your forehead in reply. Finally, you close your eyes and allow yourself to succumb to sleep in the comfort of his arms.

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO X FEM READER

You expected working at a convenience store during the twilight hours just to make enough to cover rent to be boring. After all, you took the job for the cash, not for a love of faking smiles for strangers who don’t care. The appearance of a stranger who seems to have a lot to hide is tantalizing bait to your boredom, but you can’t give in. That is, if you have a choice at all. 

wc — 3k

cw — mafia au but not really, implied but never addressed, is he or isn’t he, Gojo is Weird, blood, guns, this is not meant to be a serious gorey fic, its just a fun little way for me to branch out and stretch those writing muscles 

They don’t pay you enough to keep guns under the counters, but it’s cheaper to teach you to shoot then it is to pay for security cameras. It would be cheaper not to show you to protect yourself at all, actually, but you’re the sixth cashier they’ve burned through in as many weeks. Even in a town as down as this one is, rumors spread fast. 

The wages are shit, but it’s all you’ve got, and college is expensive for a degree as useless as yours is. Four months away from becoming a junior, and you’ve only held unpaid internships and this position as a cashier at a dirty, old convenience store on the wrong side of the train tracks. 

You think the owner is hiding something, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking for a job as boring as this one. People come and go, make rude comments, pick up beer and slide you IDs you weren’t trained to check. It’s quiet enough to convince you to let down your guard, then your fingers brush the cold metal underneath the register and you remember the long line of unnamed, unknown girls who came before you. 

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me: dude i don’t feel like writing

anon: *compliments my fic once*

me one millisecond later: