#Currently daydreaming abt this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hxlda-hxlda · 3 months

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thank u thank u @fiddleleafedfig for the tag !!

nine people you want to get to know better

last song: when i opened the tag, 'alien blues' by vundabar but currently i'm listening to hozier 'would that i'. as of finishing writing this, radiohead. there you have it.

favourite colour: a deep cherry red. the kind that would make a really lovely lipstick gloss.

last movie/tv show: i'm terrible with shows and movies, but i was watching the bowie doco (moonage daydream) the other day, keeping on brand ik. i also love british comedians so 'would i lie to you?' is probably up there as well.

sweet/savoury/spicy: sweet if it is really well done. i'm talking specifically that one pub down by where i live that for some reason makes the best chocolate lava cake ever. if not, savoury forever.

last thing i googled: beatles guitar songs for beginners. i've decided to relearn guitar and i'm back to the absolute basics.

current obsession: concerts! this is a long-standing love but it is very evident lately. the way concerts down here work is that no one comes for years bc of the trek to aus, and then randomly there's this one month period where everybody is here at once and suddenly i have to choose between favs. that has been this month! hard on the bank account but my soul is thriving with a concert every other week. saw noah kahan, it was life-altering.

last book: i'm between the '50 yrs of led zeppelin' biography by mick wall, and 'anna karenina' by tolstoy atm. (adding it) last fic: blends by rvltn909. finished it yesterday and oh my god. the crime that was me putting it off.

looking forward to: still a little ways away, but i'm moving to america for (my) winter-spring!! i've work in the states, which i'm thrilled abt. it also means i am tracking down artists who refuse to concert in aus (hozier for the love of god) and trying to sneak them in as well.

np tags (apologies if you've already been tagged): @fairylittlebitch @alltoounwellll @the-moon-says-hi @just--vi @whyistarchaser @bellaxisworld @feminist-cult-following @none-of-it-was-accidental @svnflowermoon + ofc anybody else who wants to. tag me. let me know you all.

#tag game #prev: making friends with the queer people in my phone #yes exactly this #sending everyone all of the love

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sunboki · 1 year

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WHEN SKZ REALIZE THEY WANT TO MARRY YOU

including; ot8

notes; in conclusion, this is a collection of things i’ve daydreamed abt in class.. enjoy

*lowercase intended

BANGCHAN’s favrorite thing is when you cuddle him. that’s it. just kidding. perhaps it’s the way you look at him, eyes filled with so much love. he usually has to look away in order to maintain his sanity, which doesn’t last long anyway. “you’re so pretty Chan.” your voice, soft and saccharine sweet as you admire—gently holding his cheeks in your hands. he giggles like a lovestruck kid, the tips of his ears flushing a pretty pink. then his mind wanders. wanders to what he would give to experience this with you every day, wake up next to you every day, listen to your voice every day. he wouldn’t be surprised if one of these days he explodes from all the torture his heart puts up with because of your antics. it floors him. no less Hannah teases him about how whipped he is on FaceTime and continuously tells you that she would treat you better. jokingly, of course. or..?

MINHO bids you goodbye, already missing your presence even though you’re simply getting snacks from the supermarket down the street. he’d never admit it, as always. that is until the gentle lull of rain greets him from outside. then it hits him. it’s raining? you don’t have an umbrella with you, do you? cue a worried Minho racing through the downpour in search of you, the last thing he wanted is for you to catch a cold. it’s straight out a kdrama when you step from the entryway with your bags in each hand, gazing at your exhausted boyfriend drenched in rain. without a care you skip towards him, ignoring his obvious distress whilst he shouts a warning to wait for him under the awning. “Baby.. i was gonna bring the umbrella to you. you better not catch a cold.” he scolds, quickly opening the umbrella currently sheltering you two. “you’re so cute Min.” you kiss his nose thoughtfully. he’s blushing red.

CHANGBIN lives for your happiness. he’s accepted his role in life wholeheartedly or whole-chestedly without complaint. the story goes all the way back with Changbin, back when you’d just began dating and he was nervous wreck. before he’d shove his socks in your face just to get playfully slapped, giggling regardless. at the time you sat in their recording studio, listening to a few in-progress tracks 3racha was testing out. but it was when he was recording live, composing in front of you. he was beyond anxious that you wouldn’t like his rapping; until he made eye contact with you. that look. he can’t describe it. was it admiration, awe? whatever it was, he loved it. no, he’d die for you to look at him like that—look at anything like that for the record. such pure and raw happiness he treasured so deeply. that’s when Seo Changbin’s mind flipped a switch to a ‘i need to be with you forever’ mode.

HYUNJIN took you ice skating. not the sweet and romantic ice skating where it looks like you’re both floating on ice, hand in hand. but the ice skating where you’re basically clawing down him like a disoriented cat. granted, Hyunjin isn’t the best skater either, but you make him look like a pro. “tell me why i ever agreed to this.” you grumble, cursing your balance. “hold onto me, love.” your boyfriend instructs, mitten clad hands holding your own with a reassuring squeeze you can’t help but feebly return. slowly but surely he maneuvers you along the ice, guiding your movements oh so carefully. having Hyunjin beside you makes ice skating not as miserable. “i’m gonna be so bruised later.” you mumbled from the bench, watching him untie your skates calmly. and when he looks up to respond? bang. his heart shattered. your face is hidden in his red scarf, cheeks and nose a rosy pink and toboggan adding to the sweetness. he’s gone. oh to tattoo this adorable moment into his eyelids. easily clarification he wants your hand in marriage.

HAN sits on the windowsill. the soft thrum of raindrops hum against the pane, creating a peaceful ambience. he hears you move from your place snuggled in bed, searching for his absent presence. but for the busy Quokka, this is his napping time. he’d arrived home at an ungodly hour last night from the studio, gaze heavy from sleep deprivation as he stumbled into your sheets—still exhausted into the morning. as if for a moment his mind drifted elsewhere, subtly relaxing till his eyes snap back open from a minty smell wafting beside him. there you stood; his big t-shirt that hung off your shoulder lopsidedly, holding two mugs of warm mint tea. taking the cup happily, you watched him stare at you, apparently waiting for something. “c’mere, i’ll always sing lullabies for you.” you laugh at his pout, ushering him to lay down. that saturday he plopped his head onto your lap, listening to you hum him a quiet lullaby like a child. he’d never make it without this, without you. he preferred it that way.

FELIX had been chasing you down the street for 20 minutes, well, because of his own doing. why you were running? because you’d both made a bet that whoever got to the playground down the street from the convenience store faster got $20, and Felix was not one to back down. running as fast as his legs could take him, he just barely stepped foot into the sand when you screamed “i won!” which led to a very begrudging $20 being slapped in your hand. “not fair.” your boyfriend huffed, flopping onto one of the swings nearby to watch you dance around. “or maybe..” you got closer, leaning in with a menacing smile, “—not fast enough.” being sure to wave the crisp bill right in front of his face. “yah.. stop rubbing it in.” he dramatically deflated, hunching over. “ahh i’m just kidding.” you giggled, sitting beside him now as you reached your hand out for him to take the money. “buy us something with it, something fun.” and of course the ginormous rubber duck in the mall had came home with him the next day. something he called the “most fun in his life.” with freckles basically twinkling.. how could you resist.

SEUNGMIN peered over your shoulder, watching the numerous words be typed up on the screen. being the nice guy he was, Seungmin decided to help work on your paper with you. “this?” you pointed to the screen, then glanced back in his direction—not expecting your boyfriend to be wearing his glasses and all. you had to admit, it was beyond charming. he nodded quickly in reply, appearing more focused than you. however, the way your shoulders trembled with laughter didn’t go unnoticed, Seungmin cocking a playful brow. “what?” he teasingly hovered in front of your screen, dissolving you into louder a fit of laughter. “you’re just so handsome with glasses, Mr. Seungmin.” the title earned a snort from him, shaking his head. “or should i say, my husband.” the room got quiet. “..are we engaged?” another burst of giggles from you, he was so serious and it was breaking you. “no, but one day.” you promised softly, watching a big smile tug at his lips. so pretty now that he didn’t conceal that beautiful smile. “one day.”

JEONGIN didn’t waste time when he heard the smash of glass against your tile flooring echo along the halls. “i’m okay!” you call out quickly, but Jeongin was already there. and despite your assurance, you still had multiple cuts scattered along your now bloodied hands. “Don’t move.” your boyfriend gently instructed, carefully maneuvering around the glass to scoop you off your feet with ease—funny that the ‘baby’ of the group was so much stronger than expected, sitting you on the bathroom counter to patch up. “you shouldn’t just tell me you’re okay, you could’ve gotten really hurt.“ his knitted brows and jutting lip told you he was worried, and it utterly melted your heart. “let me take care of you sometimes. i love to take care of you.” he lied. he wanted to take care of you all the time, not just sometimes. to be the one putting bandaids on for you and sitting by your bedside when you were sick to kiss your forehead. god, did he mention you’d look stunning in wedding attire?

taglist — @starlostseungmin

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driaswrld · 6 months

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what was i made for? — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 1.3k

summary : reader and the boys go through the aftermath of the star plasma vessel incident, which leaves reader questioning just how much things have changed and if there's even a way to move forward from here.

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : this is readers pov of how things are going, and im hoping to do satoru and suguru's own parts as well bcus this really fleshes out the dynamics in the trio. also, the tsr collection will dive into more of this in terms of character analysis for the sake of the au - but i won't kill y'all with too much angst. yet. IM KIDDING CHILL!!

other : jjk szn two spoilers! mentions of toji incident, mentions of hickeys, reader dissociates, rs label is undefined (they're literally dating without knowing it bye) yes im also having thoughts abt barbie goodbye. @kfmcykdy gets the privilege tag today <33

current casette : what was i made for? - barbie, the album.

The summer of ‘06, everything changed.

It started days after the incident with Riko.

You’d been sitting on Suguru’s bed, back leaned against the headboard as he smoked a cigarette, shirtless and flat on his back, head leaned over the edge of the bed.

More often than usual now, Suguru smokes.

Satoru makes fun with it all in good faith most times and takes a few drags from the stick himself before coughing out the smoke.

He’d say something along the lines of him and Suguru being the first to kick the bucket, leaving you behind — one from lung cancer the other from diabetes, cause truly, there’s nothing in this world living and breathing that could kill them.

Suguru would say, he isn’t afraid of death. And if he goes out, he wants it to be because you and Satoru smothered him in his sleep.

Everything’s changed, hasn’t it?

“It’s raining,” he murmurs, a puff of smoke leaving his mouth. Subconsciously, you lean forward a little to inhale it, chasing him. Always chasing.

Because if Suguru is smoke and Satoru is fire, what are you? If they’re the strongest, what are you? “Satoru forgot his umbrella.” You finish for him, like you’ve taken residence in his mind.

Suguru hates it. But his existence, it’s yours and Satoru’s isn’t it?

There’s a hickey adorning the base of Suguru’s throat, another trail of marks covering his collarbone. If you looked lower, you’d see more of you and Satoru embedded in his flesh. But even now, you can’t move your eyes below Suguru’s neck. So you look away entirely.

Too many times these past days have you looked straight at him, and have your mind transported back to the image of him bloody and bruised, caked in crimson from the edge of his shoulders, across the expanse of his chest down to the curved line of his pelvis.

It's funny how now the scar is shaped like a star.

That day, you’d just returned from a mission, a day later than your arrival was scheduled for. Your bag clattered out of your hand the moment you opened your dorm door. Drops of blood in dried trails led from the doorway to your bed, to the bathroom then back.

He came to you first, and you weren’t there.

“name.” Suguru whispers, and when you look over to him again, he’s sitting upright and looking at you. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks, and a chilly feeling blossoms on your skin. But it’s not from the rain breeze wafting through the window.

If I tell you, you’ll hold me.

And if you hold me, I’ll shatter in your arms.

“Just daydreaming.” You say and he looks at you, one brow raised slightly. Suguru leans to the side and flicks the cigarette butt through the open window.

He doesn’t ask. Maybe because he knows if Satoru asked him, he wouldn’t say it either.

Everything’s changed.

“Okay,” he says and Suguru, your beautiful Suguru — “name.” He calls to you again, except this time it comes out softer, more like a plea.

His body shifts atop the sheets, curling into a fetal position, the side of his cheek resting on the fat of your thigh. “Don’t go too far away from me next time,” he whispers, your fingers sifting through his dark hair.

Two days later, Satoru leaves for a mission in Shinjuku.

He wakes early, knocks on your dorm door twice, slides a note under the door with a thin packet of powdered candy taped to it.

You don’t get out of bed to pick it up. Satoru thinks you must be tired again. You look so tired these days.

When you finally wake up, it’s afternoon.

Suguru is home from his own mission, and he makes you a cup of tea, kisses your cheek and heads to his room.

Lately, the thing you and Suguru have most in common is that you sleep. All the time, sleep. You wonder if it’s for different reasons.

Then later, the clock in the corridor of the dormitory building strikes nine.

You hear Satoru’s shoes against the hardwood floors and you look over your shoulder from where you’re seated on the common room couch, some cheesy romcom playing on the tv.

“Yo.” Satoru smiles, white plastic bag rustling in his grasp when he pushes his sunglasses up to rest in his snowy hair. You smile back at him, and despite yourself, your gaze goes back to the tv, the soft lighting hiding the furrow of your brow.

Does he not notice?

No, it’s not that.

“Did you eat already?” He asks, setting the bag down on the coffee table in front of you. Rather than sitting beside you on the couch, he pushes the plastic bag to the side and rests his weight there on the coffee table, one leg crossed in an ‘L shape’ over the other.

His collar is high, even though it’s hot out.

Maybe, if you didn’t know him enough, all these things would sneak past your gaze.

Everyday, every new detail, every new scar whether physical or not, gnaws at you like a disease stirring your insides.

Satoru won’t say it, but he doesn’t like when anyone touches his neck anymore.

He used to love it, when Suguru would kiss his nape, when you move the soft strands aside to cut his hair. When the tip of Suguru’s nose tickles his adam’s apple, or when you lick a stripe at the bottom of his throat.

Limitless. Infinity. Invincible.

Until it isn't.

“Yeah, Shoko brought over takeout,” you say and the glow of his blue orbs don’t really feel like Satoru right now.

If this was a month ago, you’d laugh at yourself for thinking that. When is Satoru never Satoru?

But, has everything really changed?

You want to reach a hand out to him and unzip the top of his uniform, maybe then he could breathe a little easier. But why?

Why do your fingers tremble in your lap?

Something inside of you feels like your fingers will be met with a barrier. And if you try to touch him now, with a barrier between you two, it will kill you again.

More than the sight of his near lifeless body ever could.

“name?” He tilts his head to the side, and your eyes dart back to him, unaware that you even looked away in the first place.

There’s a sound of static from the tv just as your eyes meet his, and the two of you rise from your seats at the same time —

Who’s chasing who this time?

There's a scar there on his neck, you know it. He hasn't given you the chance to look at it for longer than a few seconds — Toji is burned into his flesh.

Or rather, a reminder of his weakness is.

Satoru opens his mouth to say something. But he isn’t as easily read as Suguru sometimes.

His emotions are clouded by more complex emotions. When Satoru feels, he feels everything.

He comes in a box with one hundred different user manuals in different languages that no one knows. Suguru was a translator, and you, a scribe, committing him to memory. But even then —

Why won’t you say what you feel, Satoru?

He clenches a fist by his side, like he's holding back, his gaze drops from yours and he walks over to the tv, knocking the top of it a few times to get it to stop glitching out. In between that he whispers, “I brought noodles — somen for Suguru and the cold soba you like…”

Satoru looks tired, he falters in his stride.

Strength, huh?

The air around you feels cold with the weight of his cursed energy, no matter how thin and how much he tries to regulate the flow, you can feel it.

You would know him blind.

How long have you been seeing everything in the world but us?

You’ve never wanted to cry more in your life.

“I’m sure Suguru could eat,” you whisper back, voice a little hoarse. Suguru is probably asleep, or pretending to, like he does sometimes, just so he doesn’t have to see Satoru after missions like this – where he’s trying so hard. So hard to do more, to be more.

And you don’t see it, but you have a feeling Satoru’s heart is breaking in two. Why?

Why are things so different no matter how hard we try?

“Yeah? I have a dvd of that movie we never got to watch somewhere under my bed—”

Maybe.

Everything’s changed.

But maybe, things need to change.

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x geto x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic

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