#and that he had valid reasons to do all of what he did even if it meant unsavory actions

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Hi, I love your writing! I'm not sure if you are doing the erotic horror prompts anymore but if you are, then may I request a Prompt 9 OR 34 with John Wick?

Hi, thank you so much, Anonymous. It means the fucking world to me!!! Allow me to express my gratitude with some predator/prey:

(I know these are supposed to be horror, but I keep turning them into fluff. Please forgive me🥺❤️)

“So, the first rule of self defense is run,” John says, giving her a heavy, doubtful side eye that speaks volumes about his faith in her to do so. 

“Second?” She asks, arms crossed, foot tapping, watching him stalk circles around her like he’s going to drop her at any moment - her heart patters wildly every time she sees his step slow or his eyes move to a vulnerable part of her body, even though she knows that whatever “tells” he exhibits are actually fakeouts and dead ends. Just a way to get her nerves worked up so that she’s taking him seriously.

He stops in front of her, places a finger in the center of her chest, and she knows he could give a little push and she’d be flat on her ass.

But he doesn’t. He smiles. “Hide.”

She rolls her eyes. “The third?” 

“Fight. And -“ he moves his finger against her bare skin, drawing her eyes and attention, then flicks her lightly on the forehead as punishment for falling for it. “Don’t roll your eyes at your superior.”

She rubs the pink mark. “Ow,” she tells him, even though the trick only stung a tiny bit. 

“Now say, “yes, master.”” His eyes light with mischief. 

Every piece of her fucked, masochist body wants to fight him on that if only to earn more brutality for it. But this is supposed to be critical training, even though her trainer isn’t taking it as such.

She figures that she’ll be the determined one, for once, so she tips her head, straightens her shoulders, and says, “yes, master.”

His eyebrow raises behind untamed bangs. “Good.”

“Did you take that from a job orientation class?” She asks him.

“What?”

“At jobs, they use the ‘run, hide, fight’ for active shooters.”

He shakes his head no, but it’s so hard to tell when and if he’s fucking with her…

“Have you ever had a normal job?” She wonders aloud. 

He shrugs. “Then you already have the basics down. Excellent.” He continues circling. “Start small,” he says. “Then, work your way up.” 

She nods, although annoyed with being ignored, continue.

“So, we start with running.” 

She cringes. The mere thought of him watching her run laps is painfully embarrassing. 

Wanting to impress and not kill this before it even gets started, she keeps her mouth shut. 

“I’ll give you a minute head start.” 

Wait, what did he say?

She almost laughs. “We’re racing?”

His grin is worrying. “No, I’m chasing you.” 

In that case, she wants to ask for at least a five minute head start; eyes his thick, long legs. The taut muscle is visible shifting and tensing, even under his baggy sweatpants.  

“You’re going to catch me,” she tells him, wanting to argue about this being unfair. 

“Then you’d better start running,” he replies, flipping his wrist over to check the ticking time. 

“What - where am I allowed to go?” Cool sweat collects at the nape of her neck. 

“Anywhere.” He’s still looking at his watch, waiting patiently. 

“When are we starting?” 

His eyes flit up, glint at her, then focus back on the dwindling time. “Five seconds ago.”

Prickling anticipation drives her to argue. “How is that going to help me? Just running all day so you can keep catching me? Pretty soon I’ll get tired and will just give up and let you catch me.” 

“Oh, that’s what I forgot to mention,” John murmurs.

Anger anxiety cocktail spikes. Forgot to mention? There’s a lot of shit that he’s conveniently forgetting to mention.

“If I catch you, I tickle you.” His grin grows into a sharp-bladed tip.

“John,” she says, voice worried, which delights him. “That is not fair. You’re going to catch me and you can’t just tickle me all day when you do.” 

He’s a reasonable man. He’ll see her issue. She’s valid in her concerns, and they both know it. 

“Yes I can.” 

“Are you serious?!” 

“Uh huh.” He taps his watch face. “Thirty seconds.” 

Her shoes slip on the cushiony matts, landing her on her knees before she can start bolting.

He resists the urge to go to her. Thankfully, she’s not down for long, or else his concern would get the better of him. 

She stands and runs. Up the stairs, already panting and sweating, adrenaline an ache that builds higher the farther away she gets from him. 

Out the door of the gym, down the hallway, trying not to fall again and losing precious time because of it.

She’s in the cold before she knows what she’s doing. Her t-shirt does nothing to cover her from the frost, but fear and physical exertion help her stay warm. 

Down the left block, then ducking through an alleyway, wondering if he’s on her tail by now. 

Blessedly, there’s no snow on the ground, so she’s not leaving any footprints. Also, that means she can go faster and not have to worry about falling. 

She rushes a corner and almost takes out an older man walking his dog, so, of course, she has to stop and profusely apologize.

“It’s fine, dear,” he chuckles.

She pats his friendly Labrador on the head. “Are you sure?” She looks him over, and he seems okay. Her memory says she ran smack dab into his frail frame, but maybe it’s just her psychosis acting up again. 

“I’m alright, dear, where is your coat? Your skin is ice cold.”

“Oh, I left it at home, just going for a jog,” she replies, trying to be casual. 

His fluffy dog pushes a wet nose into her hand and nuzzles her out of more attention.

“This is Sam,” the older man introduces. “He is very friendly.”

“He’s amazing,” she says, using both hands to stroke blonde, cold fur. 

“Are you training for a marathon?” The man asks. “I hear there’s a big one by Macy’s next week.” 

“No. Just exercising.” She smiles up at him, wondering how to politely break this conversation off and save her own ass. 

Behind him, about half a block down, is her pursuer and teacher.

It would be better if he looked disappointed. So, so much better. 

Her hand stills on Sam’s head. 

That expression would be a glare if his mouth wasn’t pulled up at the seams. His eyes of brilliant brown are blown black. Like a shark. No, too intentional to be a shark - it isn’t pure hunger that drives him. 

Gotcha.

Fear is the only thing she’s capable of feeling for a couple of seconds as she forgets what, exactly, is going on while an instinctual and ancient part of her remembers what it’s like to be hunted.

She’s going to feel really bad, later, about turning away from a nice man and his dog without so much as a goodbye and sprinting the opposite direction.

That trepidation just coils tighter the more she runs. She wasn’t built for this. Her legs are too short, her body too pillowy to gain any sort of momentum, her lungs too small for the air required in running. 

It’s nothing but luck and adrenaline carrying her down crossroads and alleys. 

She spares a glance behind her, and almost feels like she’s winning when she doesn’t see John. 

It’s because he’s in front of her. 

At the end of the gravelly side street, lounging lazily on the wall. 

Michael fucking Meyers, that’s what this reminds her of. You never see him moving, but somehow he’s always catching up to you. 

She almost falls again when turning around to dash the other way, but manages to keep a shaky, vertical grip on earth.

John surpasses her, the easy stride of his legs infuriating, and plants himself in her path so that she runs smack into his chest. 

There’s no time to get away. He already has her biceps gripped tight. 

She winces, writhes, glower resembling more of a pout. 

“When you run,” he says, kissing her head with a soft mouth that contradicts his hard grip. “You zigzag. Go every direction. Never in a straight line. Never predictably. You have to not think about where you’re going, but focus wholly on your destination.”

“Helpful tips that I should have known earlier?” She tries, grinning dryly.

He chuckles. “If I just tell you, you won’t learn. Which reminds me: Let’s take you home and get you warm. I owe you some merciless tickling, don’t I?”

“I was hoping you’d forget,” she groans. “Second chance?” 

“You’ll get plenty of chances,” he assures, leading her back to where she came with a big arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm.

#john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick x plus size reader #keanuverse fic #keanuverse #Idk wtf this is #My touch starved brain said fluff #And I obeyed #IV Drabbles

[live-laugh-lenney]

Here for something with Mr Lenney pls🙏🏼

Spent the evening binging his react to Love Island vids and now just wanna be sat in the sun on holiday with him. Maybe a group holiday with other YouTube lads and they’re all single so it’s reader on a lads holiday essentially but Will does little things like making her breakfast, taking her on little dates away from the lads (particularly if their all hungover from partying the night before), napping together before getting ready for dinner (also together). Idk that’s all just suggestions, I just want Will on holiday, by the ocean and in the sun so I can fulfill my willne and moana dreams at once so do anything you like with that!! ☀️🌺🥥

ohhh, that's so cuteeee! this is definitely someting we can talk more on! the scenario of the boys being on holiday, in any of the stories, has me weak.

she considers herself 'one of the lads'.

the lads consider her as 'one of the lads'.

whenever they hang out, they always made sure to invite her so she didn't feel left out and they always made her feel welcomed into the group by including her in conversations, letting her partake in any of their silly drinking games that they played, and they let their softer side to come out when teasing her - no horrid nicknames that made her feel small or belittled, no taking the piss out of her when she did something or said something that they found funny, no singling her out for their own humour and for the benefit of their out laughter. she was like a little sister to them; and she always felt comfortable and safe around them.

so, of course she was going to be invited to their annual trip abroad.

much to her excitement... and much to will's liking.

four months is how long they'd been secretly 'seeing' each other.

they weren't scared of what their friends would say about them being a couple... if anything, they'd be over the moon knowing that their two friends were finding happiness with each other. they just enjoyed the secrecy of no one having a clue that they were spending time together, alone, on the days that they'd not all hang out together.

sending silly and flirtatious texts every so often when they missed the other, staying over at each other's flats most nights of the week and spending their days off together, going on secret dates in the parts of london they knew they'd never get seen, and keeping calm and very collected when they were out together to not give anything away.

wedged between calfreezy and chip on the flight to croatia, because cal had insisted he had the aisle seat so he could stretch out his legs and chip hadn't been willing to sit anywhere but in the window seat... as much as she wished she was sat beside will, who was in the row of seats to her right and squeezed in between harry and chris, she was happy to have had some peace and quiet and some time away from the geordie accent she'd been listening to for the last twenty-four hours. having stayed at his place the night before they were due to fly from heathrow airport, the two of them insisting it was easier to get picked up from the same place and go together opposed to her being a solo traveler to meet the rest of them at the airport since she lived the furthest away... although, that's what they told the boys... which they were surprised they'd understood as a valid reason.

reev and callux, and theo baker in the middle of them, were sat in the row behind her and she could hear them either talking to a camera as they vlogged their trip away or informing their instagram followers on how they'd pulled the short straw in sitting next to theo for the next few hours. much to her amusement.

once they landed, heading straight to the villa that they'd rented for the next ten days, the lot of them were eager to get settled in before heading out to find a supermarket for their necessities and to scope out the local bars and restaurants that they were going to spend their nights in. all yn wanted was a shower, and her cleansing products, as the plane air felt sticky and gross on her skin.

with their rooms dibsed by the time they walked through the front door, their suitcases and bags thrown on the beds to claim them as their own, it didn't take long for the boys to ready themselves with a spray of their deodorant and a spritz of aftershave and a splash of water to their faces to clear the sweat building from the humidity.

much to yn's appreciation, who wanted the shower first.

she stood in her room once she was feeling fresh, having stood under the shower head from a couple of minutes so she felt cooler and a lot more cleaner, air drying as she rummaged through her suitcase for a more suitable outfit for taking a walk in the twenty-degree heat.

"just give us a text when you're ready. we'll go find a good lunch spot. i think we're all starving," calfreezy's voice echoed around the empty villa and yn couldn't help but pinch her brows together in confusion as to who he was speaking to, "no going to sleep for six hours. the jetlag is nothing."

"you have my word."

it was will's voice that echoed back and there was a tingle in her belly that made her feel weak at the knees. and when the door closed, the voices of the guys trailing off in the distance as they made their way down the main road outside their villa, it wasn't long before she heard his footsteps rushing up the stairs. his shoes scuffing the cool and tiled floor which lined every room in the house.

"what do you reckon? an hour to ourselves before they get suspicious of us?" will questions as he steps foot around the door to her room and sees her standing in her towel, "was hoping to hop in with you, save water and all that."

"you snooze, you lose," yn grins cheekily at him and he rolls his eyes in a dramatised fashion, "i was fine meeting you guys in the town, you know? it's not that far of a walk for me to do by myself in daylight."

"i know but i wanted to keep you company here," he perches himself down on the edge of her bed and watches as she pulls out different articles of clothing to see if they went together, "fancy going out for dinner one night this week? me and you?"

"won't the guys get a bit suspicious if we go off together?"

"i don't really care," he admits and she glances at him, "what?"

"nothing, i just," she sighs softly and sets a pair of denim shorts and a cropped white t-shirt on her bed, pairing it with an oversized shirt that was decorated with stripes that she was going to wear over the top and knot at the front, "i like the sneaking around. the enjoyment and the excitement of almost being caught. all that goes out of the window when they know."

"but we could kiss and hold hands in public," he reminds her and she drops the towel to her feet, her underwear already clinging to her skin having done that when she got out the shower, "we could be a proper couple."

"are we not now?"

"of course we are," he laughs softly, "but i get to show you off. i get to bat away the boys who stare at you and not sit back and get jealous because we have to pretend not to have any feelings whatsoever. i get to brag about you."

the room is filled with silence as she slips her clothes on and finishes off getting ready, pairing her outfit with a pair of nike socks and her comfortable white trainers, but she can't ignore the eyes that watch her from her bed.

"the last night," she suggests, "we'll find a place, we'll dine, we'll wine and we'll come clean to the boys."

"yeah?"

"yeah," she nods and he grins widely, standing to his feet and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "if they find out before then they find out before but... yeah, the last night of our holiday should go out with a bang."

"a bang i can get behind," he smirks and she smacks his arm playfully with the palm of her hand, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry." xx

#willne #willne imagines #willne fics #willne blurbs #willne headcannons #will lenney #will lenney imagines #will lenney blurbs #will lenney fics #will lenney headcannons

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

#my characters #waiting on some info on the next commission so i indulged in ocs today bc i doubt i will have as much time for lil comics for a bit #deacon is so devoted hes like yeah i would kill for a deity that could easily kill anything himself but yknow teehee #and fulj just did you tell him you needed therapy also does he even know youd murder in his name #deacon caught red handed haha no of course i havent told him it should be obvious enough haha.... and its in his defense not his name :c #man really does have some issues but i love him so much and hes so devoted but like. unhealthily after a while #he does in fact need a chill pill and therapy but to be fair #ymber has needed therapy for centuries and yet he just bottles it all up and suffers so #its pretty unhealthy until they yell at each other one (1) time bc they are so insecure about things and get mad over very valid reasons #but then theyre like you know what that was necessary and i still want to stay by your side if you let me #and then fulj is like dude hey sorry you seem really happy did you fu- and ymber is like no please stop there we have not #fulj just squinting cause have not is very different than will not but whatever she doesnt wanna think about that with deacon involved ew #and eventually fulj is like hey ymber im sorry to say but i really do hate deacon and i dont even know why but he makes me uncomfortable #while deacon is just. in the room. hearing this and thinking how he knows she thinks hes weird but wow that wording hurts #and ymber doesnt wanna fill in memories better forgotten by fulj which she had forcefully removed #so he just says oh well his hair and clothing are black and you had someone in the past that you might see in him and its not a pleasant en #so you know maybe its that idk #and fulj is then WHATST i was rude to him for someone i cant even remember? lame im gonna try SO HARD to be nice to him now #and deacon just still sitting there with some food like this is v awkward and i wish i could not be here for it #and later he asks ymber about who he resembled and as ymber is descibing her it clicks in deacons head and he gets really sad #that he might somehow remind fulj of the woman she loved before she was punished for loving a mortal #and he feels kinda bad pestering her so much with his curiosities about deities and he kinda gets it #the fact hes close to ymber might remind her at the core that she was once that close with a mortal if not closer #anyway story time in the tags again #im so obsessed with these peeps and i have made them suffer so much but they do all end on a happy note #its still funny and nice to me that while fulj is creeped out by deacon and doesnt like talking to him #he still expresses the most emotions to her - he tries hard to remain serious around ymber and collected and obedient at all times #and when out and about with ymber he has to be intimidating and refuses smiling but fulj?? all sunshine and smiles and emotions easy to rea #and she is just that is so weird go away i hate you

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

trying to lay out my interpretation of why brad and judy are simultaneously awful and really goddamn sad, beyond just having lost their baby under traumatic circumstances as already-traumatized autistic young adults with zero support system left but each other, is wild because it includes in full seriousness the word 'sheepnado'

#sdmi #scooby doo: mystery incorporated #brad chiles #judy reeves #tl;dr they are Like That in large part because pericles fucked them up in a very particular way #that made them dependent on him to give them cues for what to do and validation for the results #and when they suddenly had that ripped away they dealt with it by just making a closed loop where they follow each other in circles #in order to make one semi-functioning adult with a semi-functioning ability to actually choose to set out and do things #nothing else really *matters* to them outside of that fragile closed loop (and christ it is fragile); they set up a steady source of income #and then just fuck off to go effectively be alone together for 20 years; amassing and perfecting a bunch of random skills #because they are both very intelligent in some ways and Need to Stay Occupied; but what else are we gonna do #just aimlessly follow each other in circles and there's no room to actually choose a direction from there #and if anything breaks the closed loop; or doesn't fit into a hesitantly expanded version of it they had in mind #they freak out and they lash out at it even when they're pretending to be cheerful and unaffected #and the only real reason they *did* have to act on caring about something outside that feedback loop before--fred #ended up *being 'sit on your hands and do nothing for 20 years'*; when they are border collies climbing the walls without things to pursue #then suddenly that's gone and they can go care about fred again! except Oops now there is a force influencing them whose entire thing is #'induce artificial craving for Thing.' they try to love fred but they also resent him for being why they spent 20 years with nothing to Do #especially when things are Different now and he's his own person who doesn't really mesh into a closed loop with them; instead of the baby #they could have imagined whatever they wanted about all that time. they are desperately exhausted with caring about fred #and deeply traumatized by having done it; & at this point when a ball is waved in front of them to go fetch that they aren't burned out on #they go 'fuck it sorry kid you come second this time.' and then he *very purposely* cuts ties w/them & therefore any possibility of a loop #and they stop caring completely and lash out instead; especially because the person who fucked them up like this in the first place #has waltzed back into their life and snapped his fingers for them to heel. now they're great tools for his agenda including abusing ricky #'he's a genius right brad' 'my loyal brad and judy' siding w/pericles despite ricky having been a more reliable choice who explicitly treat #them as equals and doesn't constantly insult them and talk to them like pets. and then when something as small as Looking Different breaks #that one last most supposedly dependable loop they had they break down and start lashing out at each other. they 'behave like children.' #there's so much here man. they suck so goddamn bad and they fuck me up. thinking about the oldgang for the rest of my life

[lloydfrontera]

mmgghh imagine julian having a zoe murphy from deh style breakdown as he tries to reconcile the brother he remembers, the one that abused him for years and years on end, that never brought him anything but pain, that would beat him up for the slightest provocation, with the one that meets him at the academy, the one that saved a city, the one that is working relentlessly to save their family from ruin, the one that defends him from bullies and tells him it was never his fault that others harassed him

just. julian getting to express the rage and confusion and conflicted emotions that would come with the person that abused him for years changing completely out of nowhere and turning into the older brother he'd always wanted.

so don't tell me i didn't have it right don't tell me it wasn't black and white after all you put me through don't say it wasn't true that you were not the monster that i knew

#i talk a lot <3 #tged #the greatest estate developer #julian frontera #if i think too hard about the fact that julian forgave his abusive older brother because of the actions of a completely different person #and we never got to see the fall out of him realizing the person he forgave never actually made amends with him #and all his feelings of rage and disgust were completely valid and he never had any reason for feeling guilty about hating his brother #because the person that he grew to care for and protected him was a completely different one. i do start going a little feral not gonna lie #i just!! don't like that julian was made to feel like he was in the wrong for feeling like he was the one that had it hardest!! #cause he did!! he fucking did!!! #this kid was abused physically and verbally since childhood by his older brother. basically ran from home the moment he was legally allowed #to and then also got harassed and humiliated by his classmates at school while all the authorities looked the other way #had it not been for suho transmigrating into lloyd's body (which is an external factor and should not be taken into account) #julian would by all means be allowed to say he had it the roughest of the family!!! #but because lloyd meddled (which is. to be fair. not a bad thing) julian was made to feel like he was being whiny #for thinking he had it rough while his older brother worked his ass off to save their family #i know no one cares about this but i do!!! i have so many feelings about julian!! he deserved better!! i needed more content about him!! #we never even got a scene with him being told that the brother he grew to love and want to make proud was not the brother that abused him #what's the point of it all 😭

[pepprs]

also the favoritism thing is still making me so fucking mad and insane btw. im not jealous / resentful of my brother bc he deserves her love and is also burdened in his own ways by it and bc i think my drama w my mom has shaped my life in profound ways and given me friends i cherish and i would never trade any of that for the world but jesus fucking christ. why do i have to beg you to interact with me like a mother. why do i have to talk to me at all beyond asking me to do you 847439473 favors a day. why do i have to beg you to take an interest in my life and apologize when you hurt me and be nurturing and perceptive for once in your fucking life. like it hurts to hear her asking him about his classes and whatever bc she didn’t think i was stressed out w school but i had to talk to a ****** hotline last decemver when i couldn’t take it anymore and my mental health was crashing and burning and it doesn’t even fucking matter to her at all and she’s going to get him the nice gifts and throw him the nice parties and whatever because she hates me and my sister for… and let me get this straight… being complicated and anxious and depressed and also girls. lol!

#purrs #delete later #sorry i knowive been insane about momposting but this shit has me screeching like an ape. the way when my brother was born she decided me #and my sister would be okay with each other bc we were twins and meanwhile she was leaving my sister to have anxiety attacks and me to take #care of her and all of this happening at like 7 years old and she would come into my brothers room every single night and kiss him goodnight #and talk to him for a long time and she wouldn’t even come in and say goodnight to us. LOL. ok. like our room being a depression nest is not #an excuse. us not helping out much in the kitchen or around the house (which is bad but also we have reasons for it that i think are valid #and i only do it here and not elsewhere btw.) is not a good excuse. you can’t decide you love your one kid more because he helps out and #keeps his room clean and whatever. maybe he is normal because you made it very clear from the time that he was born that he was your top #priority and you gave him your attention and didn’t take it away meanwhile my sister and i have always had to share bc we’re twins and she #cast us aside when he was born and has fucking tormented both of us for years over who we like what we want where we go all of that shit and #then has the AUDACITY to call herself a good mother. being a good mother is more than feeding your kid and projecting your childhood trauma #onto them by preventing them from ever developing cancer to the point where they’re afraid fo like. go outside. you have to be patient and #nurturing and kind and like.. motherly. ans i know no one can be a perfect mother and she has been hurt so badly and she is dealing with a l #lot right now but COME ON. for gods SAKE. i am right fucking here. why don’t you care about me? why do you make it clearer every day? #ask to tag #like the way she would say when my sister and i were growing up and going through it that she wished she could book a hotel and live there f #far away from us and miss out on us growing up so she wouldn’t have to deal with us being anxious and hormonal because we were teenage girls #LOL. totally did not impact me at all. totally is not a wound that informs every breath i take and every thought i have. not at all #* like maybe he is normal because you uh… idk. just a guess here. actually gave him the motherlove people need to be functioning healthy #human beings? idk. just a silly thought. haha

[genderfluid-druid]

.

#ok we're gonna try to finish this story in under 30 tags ok let's go #SO. 'hahaha yeah wow that's crazy that you know him! we did date yeah. (does not elaborate)' #but. okay confession time. i know this was a questionable choice. it was selfish. it fed the brain gremlin that craves validation #but i never blocked M on snapchat #so even though we never talked. i could see when he viewed my stories. and i won't lie. there is a smug part of me that enjoyed #letting him see me go on about my life. #i am a flawed bitch. so sue me. it was a manageable amount of contact that didn't send me into spirals #and he DID keep viewing them. #he even messaged me once! i don't know maybe a year ago. it was totally out of the blue. 'saw this book and thought of you' on a picture of #a nice edition of The Hobbit. i didn't respond. i had to have a petty moment for all the times during the Bad Era when i tried to message #him and he took too long (in my shitty estimation) to message back. so i left him on read. for like a year #okay you can see where this is going so I'll cut to the chase #'i ran into a friend of yours' is a perfectly reasonable conversation starter. it can be the whole conversation if it needs to be. #well. it wasn't #idk. my world state for the last six years has been 'M doesn't care for me and there is no world in which we ever have a civil chat again.' #well. that doesn't track with 'it's past my bedtime but i don't mind staying up to chat' and 'i would love to get an earful about podcasts' #and 'let's chat again' and 'it was really great to hear from you' #idk. i don't know what emotion i should feel. anger is gonna be the first one that makes it to the surface i think #got a good healthy dose of anger happening #grief. i do think there's some grief. mmhmm yep there it is #there are probably some positive emotions but those are the most strenuously repressed and i don't think I'm ready to let the collar off #i have made a lot of choices in the last six years to protect my mental health specifically because of how that relationship ended #so even just talking to him is. well for one thing it's playing a bit fast and loose with the health i have managed to build up #i feel good. my life has been good lately. my therapist moved me from monthly to once every three months. my social life is the most #thriving it's ever been #i am possibly in a place to unbox some things that were thrown in the attic as an emergency measure #i should talk to my therapist

[osshisan]

i am NOT going to get emotionally invested in that theyrebasicallycanon poll but god it’s kind of funny to see “stinky anime people” comments coming from fans of a show with clip-art knickknacks for characters. and also wow some of you are terrible at character analysis

#the 'dont vote for eichi' ppl..... #i havent read very deep into eichi or wataei for that matter but even i can tell from here that eichi isn't a cut-and-dry Evil Bad Man #and that he had valid reasons to do all of what he did even if it meant unsavory actions #ofc you dont need any reason to dislike a Fictional Character In A Fictional Story. but holy shit the mischaracterization of eichi going on #in some of those tags.... #anyway. vote rinniki and wataei btw.

[professorsta]

Personally as someone who also has a hard time deciphering people's "emotional morse code", I really liked that after that Tyler just said his feelings or whatever was on his mind no matter if it was valid or immature or not because he knew Wednesday would prefer to have the confrontation then the passive aggressive bullshit. Ive always appreciated emotional honesty over trying to not cus a strife, and I love that after that talk he never makes Wednesday decipher his thoughts he just says them, a brave and compassionate act people constantly look over but can't even commit themselves half the time out of fear of vulnerability and rejection.

#oh wow how awful a boy liked a girl was a little #upset and passive aggressive when she got asked out #bruh all he did was say in a hurt tone I hope y'all have fun and then walked off #I think that's valid that's fine your emotions aren't always mature especially at 17 #if I was Wednesday I would have just been like #okay 🤷‍♂️ #and then gon on with my day it's not the end of the world and he's not an asshole cus a young man #was a lil butt hurt to the point of needing to be alone #and was it entitlement ? saying he thought they had smth? #when he wasn't even going to have this convo and prob was just going to cool off #after learning that his crush may not be as open as he thought #and the only reason he did open up and tell Wednesday was on his mind #when it came to the two of them #was because he was respecting her wishes #of wanting to know what's on his mind so he's not just mad at her #and this is where I mean when sometimes your partner wants you to be open #and transparent #even when you're being a lil shit #it's not being open if you're only open when you think you're in the right or doing the moral good #Tyler was being open and honest with Wednesday like she asked him to be #and it just that his emotions at that time were upset and petty #he didn't want to talk to her while upset!! but she was confused and frustrated because she didn't understand ! #and Tyler was considerate enough to want her to understand #wednesday x tyler #Wednesday Addams #Wyler #Addams family #Tyler galpin

[titansarmy]

i can’t do it anymore

#went to the main hsmtmts to check what had happened with ricky #and i stumble upon someone making a back to december pw post ?????? #that song BELONGS TO RINA #look me in the eye and tell me that most of rina's absolute disaster does not lead back to HSM opening night #which quite literally happened in DECEMBER #it fits both fo them to say 'i'm sorry for that night i'd go back to december all the time' #like ricky is sorry for simply not knowing what to do with what was being laid upon him (which he didn't even uNDERSTAND mind you) #and gina is sorry for basically running away from them (although she had valid reasons but still she put an end to it) #and for what she 'did' to them (in quotation marks bc she didn't do anything but lay down her feelings) #but if she could go 'back to december turn around and change [her] own mind' SHE WOULD (AND SHE DID IN HER SPEECH IN S3) #and if ricky could go 'back to december turn around and make it all right' HE WOULD (AND HE DID!!! HE FIXED IT IN S3 FINALE)

[sttoru]

your boyfriend sleeps on the couch after an argument you both had earlier that day. after calming your nerves and taking time for yourself, you realise that you might have been a bit too harsh on him.

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff / angst / hurt + comfort. age gap (reader early 20’s & satoru early 30’s). nicknames used; ‘(little) baby’. he’s honestly just the perfect combination of gentle and teasing. subtle mentions of size difference.

satoru shifts on the couch whilst letting out an inaudible yawn. he was tired after an entire day at work and finally had the chance to settle down in the comfort of his apartment.

though, he couldn’t really relax just yet. the reason why being the undeniable tension hanging in the air. he was in fact home, but it didn’t feel like it. not when you were missing.

you had holed yourself up in the master bedroom after an earlier argument the two of you had. it wasn’t a big fight — just a little squabble between lovers. satoru didn’t rush after you when you had decided to walk away midst argument. you clearly weren’t in the right headspace to properly articulate nor communicate your feelings.

he figured that you just needed some time alone and thus decided to leave you be. he didn’t want to risk losing you by annoying you any further.

satoru scrolls on his phone out of boredom. the light radiating off the screen starts to bother his already sensitive eyes. with a sigh, he shuts off the device and puts it down on the coffee table.

it was dead silent in the apartment that was usually filled with your lively chatter. the sorcerer wants nothing more than to cuddle up with you under the covers and fall asleep. but, you needed space and he wasn’t going to disturb you.

he drapes an arm over his eyes and pulls the thin blanket over his chest. his breaths were steady and his thoughts were surprisingly calm. satoru almost drifts off to sleep, however his body lightly jolts awake once he hears the creaking of a door.

careful footsteps echo throughout the hallway and stop right at the doorstep of the living room.

satoru moves his arm to the side so his vision wouldn’t be obstructed. his eyes land on the figure standing at the doorframe — one he could recognise instantly.

it was you, standing there with your head held low and your fingers curled around the hem of your nightgown. you didn’t take another step forwards and just lingered in your spot for a few seconds without saying anything.

“hey, baby.” satoru breaks the silence. his voice was as soft as it could be, not an ounce of annoyance or frustration in it. even if he had all the reason to be upset according to you.

you remember just how childish you acted earlier; you had lost all rationality, shouted at your boyfriend out of frustration and ran off mid sentence instead of properly addressing the issue at hand. the way you handled that situation was wrong and immature.

in contrast to your immature behaviour, satoru had stayed calm and collected throughout the entirety of your argument. he hadn’t raised his voice at you even once nor did he blame you for anything. you felt bad for acting like a bratty kid who didn’t get her way.

you eventually move towards the couch, still not making eye contact with your boyfriend. he sits up and simply watches you with a raised eyebrow—curious as to what you were about to do.

you knew you had to apologise for your behaviour, but what you needed first was his validation. you wordlessly climb onto the couch and under the blanket satoru was using.

your arms wrap around his torso and you hug him tightly to your body, face buried in his shirt to cover your embarrassed and remorseful expression.

satoru’s eyes widen a bit at the sudden show of affection, though he wasn’t complaining. he reciprocates the gesture and nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head.

“my little baby.” he chuckles, hands rubbing your back in attempt to reassure you that everything was and will be fine, “i’m happy you decided to come back to me — thank you.”

again. that tender tone satoru uses only with you and for you. the guilt from earlier hits you like a truck and your eyes well up with tears before you could stop the process.

“sorry,” your voice cracks once you finally muster out an apology. the warmth engulfing your cold body was enough to make you sob in his comforting embrace. satoru sighs and closes his eyes. he rests his chin on top of your head whilst holding you like his life depended on it.

no words were exchanged between you two for a good minute. satoru silently encourages you to cry it out and so you do. after calming down, you sniffle and pull your head away from his chest. your eyes were watery and a bit red.

the pad of his thumb sweeps the stray tears away from your cheeks, his touch precise and careful. he smiles softly at the sight of his teary-eyed girlfriend. you were so adorable and precious to him. even when you looked like a mess — a pretty mess.

“i just..” you start off, small hiccups interrupting your sentence, “i wanted to apologise for acting so childish. i shouldn’t have said nor did any of those hurtful things. i apologise for that as well.”

your lover nods along to your words. he hums in delight and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for longer than intended, “don’t worry, baby. i understand. thank you for apologising, though.”

you mutter a small ‘of course’ in-between sniffles. that was all the reassurance you had needed to hear from your boyfriend. though, you still felt bad and the guilt of your immature actions seemed to linger in the back of your mind.

you lay your head back on satoru’s chest and listen to his heartbeat — hoping that the constant sound would drown out any other thoughts. your lover lays on his back and pulls you down on top of him. his hands rub your sides, slender fingers toying with the silky material of your nightgown.

“i’m sorry for being immature sometimes. i’m sure it must be troubling to deal with.” you whisper as you enjoy the feeling of being back in satoru’s arms.

he grins and shakes his head in response. he loves every side of yours — even your immature one. if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here right now. he truly loves all of you.

the older man places another soft kiss on top of your head and closes his eyes afterwards, “heh, i’d be lying if i said that you trying to act all tough earlier wasn’t cute.”

satoru snickers at the memory. he remembers how you pointed that little finger of yours in front of his face and how you tried to subtly stand on the tips of your toes so you could look him in the eyes properly. your attempts at looking intimidating were quite endearing.

it’s not like he was invalidating your feelings with that comment — he was genuinely trying to lighten your mood. and it wasn’t like it didn’t work.

“whatever.” you huff, playfully swatting his biceps and gaining an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ in response. you’re glad that things have gone back to normal between you two. if the situation had continued for any longer, you’d have lost your mind.

you aren’t the only one who is extremely relieved. satoru is beaming with joy because he gets to hold and talk to you again. that small period of silence between the both of you felt like an eternity to him.

no matter how many times you have those little arguments, satoru will still love you all the same.

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk angst

[todayisafridaynight]

FIRST EP OF TSUMA CLEARED... GODDDDDDDDDDDDD WHY IS KEISUKE SO CUTE HE'S GOT ME SQUEALING THROWING A FIT KICKING MY FEET CLAWING AT MY FACE TEARING MY HAIR OUT RIPPING MY SHIRT OFF [<- CUTENESS AGGRESSION] [NOT EVEN EXAGGERATING I DID ALL THAT] [ALSO REGULAR AGGRESSION. CAN YOU STOP SAYING INSANE SHIT IN PUBLIC]

The music is so lovely too... and the direction and set dressing and Overall Production... chef's kiss... ALSO THE LITTLE GIRL WHO PLAYS SHIRAISHI IS SO TALENTED WHAT THE HELL WAS ANY OF THAT... Tsutsumi is amazing though for real, he makes Keisuke seem so much older post-timeskip and it's wonderful to see his old self starting to show again EVEN IF HE IS. BEING A DUMBASS. Huge fan of Tsutsumi playing depressed motherfuckers... I LOVE Takae though... I understand why he was so obsessed with her I get it...

See this is why I can't be too hard on Akira I'm a grown man acting the same way about Tsutsumi😭😭😭I'M GLAD YOU LIKED FIRST EP... THIS IS A RELIEF... Yoshizawa is a nice young man don't worry about him <3

ALSO THRILLED TO HEAR YOU SEEMED TO ENJOY THE MOVIES TOOOOOO ACAB except the team and Ogata nobody does terror|sm like you king... I wish more Tsutsumis could escape prison and/or death But Fair Enough... Oh and this is what Ogata's letter says if you were curious, it's manga only:

Inoue, You weren't crazy at all, in my eyes. You'll make a fine SP. An SP is a police officer in the Metropolitan Police Department Public Security Bureau assigned as a full-time bodyguard to people who don't deserve protection. That job description assumes they are, without exception, willing to throw their life away in a crisis if it means acting as a shield for those people. That's what it means to guard another's life.

ALSO at one point Tsutsumi was at a panel for something else and a couple members of the audience were being unruly and trying to get on-stage to get to his female co-star, but he and another co-star held them off... I think he actually fell off the stage in doing so but he was fine and he joked that SP would start filming that day... I love himmmmmmm

NO THAT'S WHAT I MEAAAAAN HE'S SOOOOOO CUTE IT DROVE ME INSANE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) 'tsuma' was the first tsutsumi show i watched and the impact it left on my brain was monumental... i loooove keisuke so much i cant stress that... SO IM GLAD YOU WATCHED THE FIRST EP IM GLAD YOU GET TO SEE WHAT I MEAN !!!!!!!! CUTEST OLD MAN EVER I PROMISE !!!!!!!

nono maida is SO good considering her age, i was so impressed with her performance throughout the show... AND YEAH TAKAE IS AMAZING she really is an epic woman, no wonder keisuke and mai cant let her go (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) unfortunately 👁️👁️;;

OH BUT YEAH THE SHOW'S SO CUTE SO FAR I JUST FINISHED THE SECOND EPISODE !!!! tachibana looking right RIDICULOUS but its cute (❁´◡`❁)

AND THANK YOU FOR SHARING THE LETTER MAN so real.... i love that..... chaotic good kind of behavior i fucks with him.... he's valid in my opinion for his methods.... nishijima was lame anyway...

poor tsutsumi at that panel tho im glad he protected his co-star and im glad he was able to make light of the situation- im mortified for him but id also be totally mortified if i was one of those rowdy people like please be civil hes a guy just like any other guy (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

#long post #snap chats #i could go on a mile-long ramble about tsuma its so cute...... #its so funny tho ep 2 onward because its like. its SO awkward because he's the definition of Wife Guy but he CANT be a wife guy cause... #yk..... FUCKED UP but hilarious too #fr tho i was so happy at the end of the first ep when mai and keisuke realized she was telling the truth... oh my god... that was precious. #AND THEN ALL THE KIDS PULLED THEIR EMERGENCY STRINGSLGJRAJLVKAJ STOP THAT WAS FUNNY #LIKE VALID BUT ALSO LMAOOO #if you continue watching i hope you enjoy the rest of the series as much as i did !! it gets REAL good #its already good ep 1 but it gets even BETTER and UGH. i should rewatch it... #OH BUT AtR !!!!!!!! ITS SO SWEEETTT ive never had the experience of having a crush let alone on someone older #but the trope seems cute from a distance-so long as the older party is. Not A Freak obviously #theres a certain innocence in it yk what i mean.. i cant explain it but when It Isnt Freak Shit its cute #so im glad this anime's being cute with the trope instead of weird and gross #KONDO IS A VERY CUTE OLD MAN I UNDERSTAND HER BUTTERFLIES hes so silly.. #AND IM GLAS YOSHIZAWA ISNT A JACKASS HE'S FUNNY AND A DORK #he needs to chill but he's just enthusiastic so i cant be mad... Give Her Space but also He's So Ernest #ah but yeah with SP..... ogata's morals are based- when he couldnt protect ohashi anymore i felt so bad... #i also like characters like that- characters that want to do whats right so bad but cant for one reason or another #even MORE based when they start to do Cracked Shit to do good.... amazing.... 11/10.... #IN ANY CASE.... EP 3 OF AtR TIME !!!!!!!!!

[evilminji]

So I was rewatching suicide squad hell to pay and this idea smacked me in the face so hard I had to share it: when Danny finds out Jazz wants to go to GothamU he does a bunch of research and finds that the joker has the highest death tolls and property damage but also when he’s not in Arkham (even when he’s not actively committing a crime) the crime rate skyrockets, so he needs to at the very least remove the joker from the equation. But he can’t personally do it because of school/king stuff/reasons so he sends out a message to any & all takers “make the joker disappear” the prize… One Get Out of Hell Free Card: It Won’t Get You Into Heaven, But At Least You Won’t Be In Hell…. Needless to say a greater part of the underworld descends upon Gotham.

Oh my god? It's probably delivered be a dead info broker who was THE SHIT until he went out in a blaze of glory? Dude rocks up into [REDACTED] looking not a day over 20, in the suit he was killed in, bullet holes and all, Glowing... like?

Boys, do I have a DEAL for you! Straight from the king of Limbo!

Like? Sold! Limited power boost in life? AND I get to avoid hell? Plus?? A valid reason to do the world a FAVOR and put down that MONSTER of a clown? They would have done far worse for less. But this? This is just Christmas.

You'd probably get tons of "hey, what if me an my boo do it TOGETHER?" Too which Danny is like "gonna say it counts, happy hunting!" And just? You thought Ivy wanted him dead BEFORE?

The underworld is ON FIRE. The clown is GOING to die.

Morningstar is laughing himself sick from the other side of this booth at the night club. Is a TERRIBLE influence. But honestly? Danny DID need the advice. And hey, if things continue to be a mess when it's time for Jazz's classes to start? She can do remote learning! From NOT gotham! Literally ANY CITY but Gotham!

Everybody wins!

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

[moonlinos]

Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back. 

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday. 

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason has cuteness aggression.

Anything that you do is cute as fuck to him and all he wants to do is squeeze the fuck out of you in his strong arms, but has to restrain himself from doing so because he doesn’t want to genuinely hurt you.

He’s just so full of love that he doesn’t know what to do with it other then spend all his time with you doing your own thing, even though everything within him is screaming at him to reach out and squish your cheeks together, all the while smothering your face in a abundance of kisses for doing absolutely nothing because that’s how badly in love he is.

Jason just didn’t want to scare you off in how he loves because it could be quite suffocating or too much, but as long as you communicate to him that his love wasn’t suffocating or too much then expect it to quickly be apart of your daily routine, then again it’s not like you’re complaining because an affectionate Jason is an adorable Jason.

So you’d happily just sit there and allow him to hold your face between his hands and kiss you senselessly for just simply existing.

‘Why. Are. You. So. Fucking. Cute.’ Jason would say between planting kisses on your lips, forehead and nose.

‘I’m not even doing anything other than sit here.’ You chuckled, smiling widely at feeling of his lips against your skin.

‘Not a valid enough response.’ Jason replies as he continues his barrage of affection.

‘But it’s true!’ You exclaimed as Jason enough you into his arms and squeezed you tightly as though you were a plush toy. You cuddled into him and rested your head on his chest, finding this side of Jason to be sweet and beautiful as himself. ‘Then why are you the most precious person in my life Hmmm?’ Jason asked rhetorically, burying his face into your head, tightening his grip on you. ‘Then why is it that I would do anything you’d ask without a second thought?’

‘Because we’re together?’ You said, faking ignorance as you wanted nothing more to hear him say it.

‘It’s because I love you chipmunk.’ Jason murmured as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, knowing that even if he did manage to show you all the love he had within him, he’d only find even more love underneath all that to give to you.

[PLATONIC ONLY] Damian Wayne claims that he hates being your friend.

But if that was the case then why is it that he goes out of his way to make sure that you were comfortable and treated with respect when he brings you over to the Wayne Manor; Something he’s never gone out of his way to do for anyone besides maybe Jon Kent, but that’s neither here nor there.

Then why was it that when he first introduce you to Titus as a sign of trust, the Great Dane didn’t waste a second in wanting to get to know you with how often he would impatiently nudge you with his head, whine and howl until you gave him head rubs and or cuddles. Damian on the other hand acted as though he was embarrassed by this, but was secretly happy that you and his dog got along as it meant a lot for Damian if Titus instantaneously likes you, he trusts Titus judgment as he believes that dogs were great judges of characters.

Then why was it that when you showed genuine signs of struggle, he was the first person to notice and help you with whatever you were having troubles with as best he could. Damian knew that he would be considered the last person people who go to for help and for obvious reasons, but when it was you Damian wanted to be your first choice, your first option out of everyone; If you get stuck then you might as well get stuck together, even tough he’s intelligent in his own right, he’s not prone to not knowing the answer to something.

It happens to everyone and you have to remind him in those moments that he’s imperfect human, not a weapon. He needs reminding of that now and then in all honesty.

Damian won’t out right call you his friend but he will show it without even knowing he’s even doing it until someone -maybe one of his brothers, mainly Grayson- points it out to him.

‘Is your friend coming over today?’ Grayson would ask.

‘They’re not my friend.’ Damian answered bitterly.

‘Then why are you clearing a space for them.’ Grayson then points out and that’s when Damian stops to realise what he was doing, scowling as he crossed his arms. ‘Tt. That’s none of your concern Grayson I just like to keep my living spaces clean and easily maintained.’ Graysons smile grew as he leant against the doorframe. ‘Oh really? That’s the only reason you’re doing this?’

‘Yes.’ Damian replied, adamant with his answer.

Grayson shrugs and raises his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, if that’s what going on then I guess I’ll leave you be then.’

‘That would be much appreciated Grayson, I still have much to do before y/n’s arrival-‘ Damian once again stopped upon realising what he was insinuating and looked towards Grayson who looked like the cat who caught the canary. ‘Not a word to anyone.’ Damian threatens as he points a finger at his older brother.

‘I didn’t hear a thing.’ Grayson said but as he walked into the hallway only to scream, ‘DAMIAN IS CLEARING UP HIS ROOM FOR HIS FRIEND! JASON YOU OWE ME MONEY! I WON THE BET!’

In the distance Jason could be heard cursing Dick out for cheating somehow.

Damian gritted his teeth but he knew he can’t hunt Dick down for sport just yet, you were arriving in ten minutes and he still had some work to do until then.

Dick has an obsession with you resting your head on his shoulder or on his back, followed by your arms holding onto his waist for dear life.

He lives for it and gets embarrassingly excited whenever you do it to the point that it’s obvious that he was expecting something every time you came home. Dick just likes the idea that despite how exhausted you might be, you still go out of your way to drag your feet across the room and rest your head on his shoulder as you whispered a greeting into his skin.

He enjoys this so much that if you ever dare to forget to do so, he’ll pout and silently watch you as you moved about the apartment expectantly. If after five minutes you still don’t do the thing then Dick will show you his back and sigh dramatically until you’re forced to take notice.

‘What’s wrong pretty bird?’ You asked wearily.

‘Nothing.’ He replies.

‘Dick you’re huffing and sighing every five seconds, somethings wrong.’ You said, getting up to move towards him before resting your head on his back and throwing your arms over his waist. ‘So tell me what’s wrong so that we can talk about it and get through it together.’ You murmur and you felt Dick relax as he rested his hands over your own.

‘There’s no need to talk about anything because you’re already doing the thing that I’ve been waiting for you to do since you got in.’ Dick answered and you couldn’t help but laugh at this while tightening your hold on his waist. ‘This? Seriously?’ You asked.

‘Yep.’ Confirmed Dick as he moved himself so that he could properly hold you against him. ‘Just this and only this.’ He adds softly and you had no reason to argue with him over something that brought him comfort and reassurance.

‘Okay, I’ll remember to do this a lot more, just for you.’ You promised, kissing his shoulder.

‘I’ll hold you to that promise sweetie.’ Dick says as he rested his head atop of yours, closing his eyes as he basked in your closeness and allowed himself to breathe and be in the moment with you.

Because that’s all he wanted, to live in the moment with you.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff #dick grayson fluff #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic

[yuuuhiii]

I just want you ᡣ𐭩

includes : Megumi x reader , angst w fluff ending , 0.9k words , kisses

ai’s notes : I luv him sm :((( not proof read

You stomp your feet all the way into the lounging area where Nobara, Yuuji and your boyfriend were.

You could hear Nobara and Yuuji teasing Megumi and if it was any other day you’d be there to back him up, even though he didn’t really care for their words. But today wasn’t any other day, you were mad and you had a very valid reason to be.

All of their eyes are on you and Megumi softly smiles at you. It’s soon wiped off his face when you’re pulling him by the ear, Nobara and Yuuji on the verge of laughing but also amused.

“Ah!—What the hell are you doing—Y/n!”

You let him yell at you as you yank him down the hall and into an empty classroom, sliding the classroom door shut.

“What the hell is your problem!” He grabs at his ear, glaring at you, but his gaze immediately softens when he sees you on the verge of tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong.” His brows furrow. He moves to hold you but you step away, making his stomach drop.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

You’re trying to hold yourself together, biting your lip so it wouldn’t jitter. Megumi’s more than confused but he’s trying to rack his mind of every possibility, just something that he did that would have you upset this much.

“Look. I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m sorry.” He tries to reason and you look so broken, his heart is beating so fast but it wasn’t in the way he liked.

“Gojo-sensei told me about Mahoraga.” You glare at him and he stiffens.

Fuck.

Maybe he did lie to you about that technique, yes it was a ritual but he never told you that he had to sacrifice himself for it to work.

“You’ve tried to summon him at least five times for me!” You yell, your tears already falling, voice breaking.

He doesn’t know what to say and in a way he’s letting you break down, so you could let it all out.

“Why would you lie to me, especially about that.” You pout, sounding so desperate and hurt that it’s killing Megumi in the inside.

His mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water with no oxygen. You crush him with your arms, holding on to him as if he’d disappear at any second, sobbing in his chest.

“You can’t keep sacrificing yourself like this Megumi, Gojo-sensei said you had the potential to be the strongest.” You say and he finally replies.

“I don’t want to be the strongest.”

Even though it’s a smart ass reply he’s holding you close to him, scared that things will go south and you’ll leave him.

“That’s not the point! But you can get stronger. How are you supposed to get stronger if you’re constantly trying to kill yourself.”

That makes him bite his tongue because you were right.

“I don’t care if you want to get stronger or not, I care about you.” You whimper, your cries not ceasing. Megumi combs his hands through your hair.

“I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me, I don’t want your soul, or your curse—”

“I’d never curse you.”

Your glare shuts him up.

“I want you. Like this, how I have you now, this is all I want.” You say so sincerely, holding his face in your hands.

“Alive, healthy and by my side. For as long as I can have you.”

His heart beat hasn’t slowed down, if anything it’s picked up, but now because your words have reduced him to a flushing mess. His ears and cheeks red, eyes softening.

“You’ll always have me.” He whispers, cradling your face now.

You don’t reply but you kiss him with so much passion, trying to gather up all the love you had for him and he kisses you the same way. The both of you afraid to lose each other.

Megumi couldn’t think of a world without you but he never stopped to think how you’d feel if he wasn’t in yours. Mostly because he’d do anything for you, even if that met giving up on his life for your wellbeing.

When you pull away you both are just as close, sharing each other’s breath.

“You have to promise me you won’t use it anymore, that you’ll get stronger so you don’t have to resort to that, or else I’ll leave you.”

Megumi’s hands squeeze around your waist at the last part, brows furrowing. You knew you’d never be able to but he didn’t need to know that. He rests his forehead on yours, squeezing his eyes.

“I wont use it.” He sighs.

“You promise?” You look up at him, making him melt.

“Promise.”

You lift up your pinky, and he shakes his head in amusement. Linking pinkies with you and touching your thumb, pecking it right after.

“You can’t break it, or I’ll have to cut off your pinky.” You pout and he chuckles.

“Yea I know.” He pecks your lips.

Smiling into his kiss, you lead up with a million pecks, causing his smile to rise as well.

“I love you ‘gumi.” You whisper, brushing your lips with his and he holds the small of your back.

“I love you too, so much.” He says as he nuzzles his face into your neck, placing a peck there as well.

At peace knowing that you were no longer mad at him.

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

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