#angst drabble meme

[darylsfavoritegirl]

ᥫ᭡ date nights with logan

⭑pictures are from pinterest

[gofishygo]

IMPORTANT !! 🍉 cod actors who support israel reblogs are appreciated, spread the word

looks like price nd soap r the only real ones left … oh well time 2 pirate games im not letting them hav my money !!

BIG BIG BIG heads up !! (from @/dumbsadlesbian in comments )

This is a flawed post. Knowing someone’s stance from one or two likes on a post is so misleading. When did they like it? Have they learned since? For example, Elliot Knight posted saying he’s learned since and was misguided in the chaos of the early events. His sister, whom he is incredibly close to, posts nearly every day in support of Palestine. There is no way she didn’t whoop sense into his ass. On top of that, liking certain posts can be doomscrolling, saving them for later, etc. There are actors on here that one hundred percent need to lose everyone’s support. But going “this person who I know nothing about and is relatively private is a Zionist. Evidence: (liked one post on Twitter five months ago)” seems a little extreme. I am whole heartedly pro Palestine. But this shit just makes it impossible to sway others onto our side.

+i also have heard that samuel roukin (ghost va) has spoken on Palestine and is pro-Palestinian .

[lorre-verie]

this is just gojo satoru being an idiot btw

ft. gojo satoru x gn!reader (& some unfortunate dude) w/c: 780ish

warnings: author knows nothing about cars.

written by lorre, proofread by jude.

thinking about stranger!gojo satoru revving his car loudly behind your pink convertible on the deserted highway

you know he's doing it on purpose because as soon as his Ferrari SF90 matches speed with your McLaren 750S, he grins, sticking his tongue at you as his free hand waves a teasing 'bye-bye~' before blasting ahead.

you raise an eyebrow, eyeing the blue streak speeding on the road in front of you, the arrogance practically oozing from the roar of the engine.

it's not long before you let out a scoff, tapping on your phone to change to your racing playlist. you smirk as you press harder on the gas pedal, whipping on your sunglasses all the while. oh, it's on, stranger.

stranger!gojo satoru who gapes as he sees your pink mclaren absolutely tear right past him, just barely catching the rude gesture you throw up over your shoulder. you just not-so-subtly told him to eat your dust. stranger!gojo satoru who immediately puts both his hands on the wheel, his posture snapping straight as he tails you. his eyes are wide, the already bright smile growing on his face as he can feel every shiver of his car, excited to finally be able to push it to its full potential.

stranger!gojo satoru who, as soon as he starts to catch up to you, pats the side of his vehicle lovingly, murmuring an encouraging "let's go, baby."

you cock your head to the side as he nears you, your eyebrows raised. he's trying to say something to you, but you can't hear him over the combined roaring of your engines.

deciding that you don't really have the time, you imitate his movements from before, waving a bye-bye as your pout your lips mockingly, leaving him behind as you turn right at the fork in the highway.

there's no way he's going to Gifu too, right?

you're proven wrong immediately as you take one glance into your side mirror, noticing the blue ferrari still hot on your trail.

you hum. so he is going to Gifu. what are the chances he's going to the same work retreat you are?

well, whoever he is, if he wants a race, he'll get a race.

stranger!gojo satoru whose his eyebrows are knitted together in concentration as he isn't focused on his car anymore, his bright blue eyes trained on yours instead, the pink reflecting back on his sunglasses.

meanwhile, a gas station worker is hunched over his newspaper in a gas station's tiny office, a nice warm cup of joe in his hands. takin' a free coffee from the machine every once in a while won't matter anyway, right?

nobody comes over here anyways, he thinks.

the next time he tries to take a sip of his coffee though, the ground starts shaking, growing more intense by the second.

he looks out the window of the office curiously (which is situated very close to the road), wondering if this is just another earthquake.

two streaks of blue and pink flash by, practically blurring together, his head turning way past his shoulder to follow the blips as they disappear down the road.

unfortunately for him, he wasn't paying enough attention to the cup of coffee in his hand, the warm liquid spilling all over his work pants as he lets out a yelp.

sigh.

stranger!gojo satoru who feels his heart lurch when he notices your mclaren finally slowing down and pulling into a rest area on the highway. he flicks on his blinker and pulls in right behind you.

stranger!gojo satoru who practically leaps out of his car, jogging up to yours.

his heart is racing, chest puffing in and out from the sheer adrenaline as you look at him suspiciously, the white-haired stranger chasing you down the road for what's been nearing an hour.

stranger!gojo satoru who puts on a charming smile—or as best as he can muster because his ears are flushing the same colour as your car, asking for your number.

you look at him incredulously, swiping a lock of hair from your face before tossing your head back in a laugh. "sure, stranger." you give him a small smile, amused.

you scribble your work number down on a napkin, drawing on a little smiley face. handing it to him you ask, "what are you going to Gifu for?"

he blinks.

"Gifu?" he asks with a finger pointed at himself, a little dumbfounded.

"i'm going to Nagano."

"but- Nagano's the complete other way?"

stranger!gojo satoru who isn't a stranger anymore, letting out a loud laugh before quickly changing the subject.

thinking about stranger!gojo satoru, who would rather dye his hair a bright, searing red, than admit that he followed a cute stranger in the wrong direction for nearly an hour just to ask for their number.

you definitely got more suspicious of him after that conversation

© lorre-verie on tumblr. do not translate, modify or plagiarise my works, nor repost it to other sites.

[everlastingleuthymia]

Silly Kyojuro

[generic-whumperz]

Can’t stop, won’t stop

[neteyamyawne]

╰ ₊Ao'nung - Are you some kind of freak? ꒱༉‧₊

-‘๑’- Key Genres

◦ | Fluff - ♡ | Smutt - ✯ | Angst - ✦ | Hurt - ✩ | Comfort - ☾ |

◦ | Romance - ◈ | Platonic - ❈ |

◦ | Na'vi!Reader - 𑁍 | Human!Reader - ❁ | Avatar!Reader - ֍ |

◦ | Daughter!Reader - ꕥ | Gn!Reader - ꨄ︎ | Pregnant!reader - ❀ |

◦ | Request - ☁️ | Non-request - 🌱|

-‘๑’- One shots

➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...

-‘๑’- Two Shots 

➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...

-‘๑’- Drabbles

Later Sessions - [ ✯ + 𑁍 + ◈ + ☁️ ] ft. Neteyam

Ao'nung and Neteyam give you a sweet and delightful lesson after your swimming sessions with them and they can be quite the trouble...

Shh... Quiet - [ ✯ + 𑁍 + ◈ + ☁️ ]

Your subby Little boyfriend is desperate to be your mate, even while you fuck him mercilessly without a break, he still wants you too be his forever.

-‘๑’- Head-Canons

➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...

-‘๑’- Series

➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...

©Neteyamyawne2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[headintheclouds-posts]

Scenario: After being in love with your close friend Felix for years, you have finally decided to give up on the idea of him reciprocating your feelings, that is until this one rainy night.

A/N: Angsty, suggestive, swearing, cold Felix & female reader.

Should I do a part 2? 😏

The cold air encased your body and the droplets of rain clung to your eyelashes, but at this point you were too tired to care.

Another long day at work, another long day of pretending you’re ok…another long day trying to not think of him.

You had been friends with Felix for years, you met through friends and at the time you weren’t aware of his success as an idol. You both hit it off straight away and quickly started to spend more and more time hanging out together and as wonderful as those memories are, it was also the start of a one-sided love that has rotted your brain and crippled your heart ever since.

Many times, you thought of telling him. You lay in bed thinking of all the possible outcomes but all of them ended with him not reciprocating your feelings. I mean, why would he? He was one of the hottest idols right now, he has attractive people throwing themselves at him constantly, so why would he want you…why?

So, after all this time you started to evaluate your time together, the nights you would run to him because he needed you, the way you took care of him, listened to his problems and helped in any way you could, and you came to the conclusion that if something was going to happen it would of happened by now. You were just his crutch and that was never going to change.

Sometimes you must make painful decisions to heal and for you, distancing yourself was the best option. You didn’t just cut him out altogether, you wouldn’t do that to him, but the late-night phone calls became less and less, as did the coffee dates where you would sit and listen to his latest girl problems whilst trying to keep on a brave face.

It was too difficult, too hard to pretend you didn’t care, for you he would be the end game and that’s what made it all the more difficult, to stand in front of your future and realise that it will never come to fruition.

You finally get home and take your tired body to the shower, washing another day of heartsickness from your skin. You change into some comfortable clothes and drag your body to the mattress, throwing yourself down and letting the soft sheets caress your frame.

The phone on your bedside table lights up, causing you to lazily lift it and look at the screen. Another missed phone call from him, this would be your 4th tonight. Why though? Why, when he has girls throwing themselves at him and the group by his side would he need to speak to you. It’s been weeks since you decided to step back but he continued to call you and text you most of the night, pushing you to almost breaking point. However, you needed to stand strong, not allow your feelings for him to take over, so you place the phone back on the worktop and eventually fall asleep.

.

.

.

Several hours have passed since you fell asleep you wake up suddenly to a loud banging noise, reverberating through the apartment. At first you think it’s the thunderstorm from outside, raging against your window, but then you realise the noise was coming from the front of your home. You groggily approach the front door and peer through the keyhole to see who could be banging so late…Felix.

Why? For fucks sake why? … it makes absolutely no sense that he would be here. Maybe it’s a control thing but I’m sure he can find another gullible person to take your spot, because that’s no longer your role you think to yourself before opening the door to him.

"Felix is 3am, what are...?" before you even get to finish your sentence he has pushed his way through the threshold to your home and has you backed up against the nearest wall.

"Ww...wha...what are you doing?" you manage to choke out, unable to look him in the eyes.

Gosh he looked good; you curse your mind for even thinking it at a time like this but his dark expression and sharp features caused your stomach to do a flip.

Felix rests both his arms either side of you on the wall behind you, caging you in.

His face is extremely close, too close in fact and it fills your mind with thoughts you're trying to suppress, like how you could easily count the freckles that stippled his skin.

"Want to explain why you've been distant?" he asks, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

FUCK!

What do you even do.... I guess it’s time to just rip the plaster off. Pushing him away is the best thing to do right now, isn't it?

"Felix, I don't have time for this, I need to get some sleep" you say as you slide under his arm to break free. Before you even get a chance to escape, his hand grabs your wrist pulling you back towards him.

His hands find your shoulders and he lightly shakes you, attempting to get the response he needs.

"Tell me what's going on, why have you just cut me out?"

"I am just busy at the moment Felix, I didn't think you would notice so I didn't see the point in saying anything", your voice quivered slightly at your lie. If you were going to do this, if you were going to lose him from your life for the good of your heart, you wanted to at least do it on your own terms and save yourself the embarrassment of rejection.

An annoyed smirk played on his lips as he removes one of his hands and places it in his pocket.

"Why the fuck would you think like that?" he asked in a low voice, eyes beaming down on your face.

"Well...because you have loads of friends Felix, it doesn't make much difference if one is missing".

His face is now inches away from yours, anger flaring in his eyes at your words.

"You're right, it doesn't make much difference if one person is missing...it does however make a difference when you're the one that is missing".

You don't even think before you spit out your next words, frustration and hurt laced within them.

"Of course, it all makes sense now. You haven't had the person who accommodates to your every need, the person who runs to you whenever you need something. Well I can't do it anymore Lix, so find some other girl, I know you're not short on fans".

Your eyes are filling with tears but you don't do anything to stop them, you just push Felix's hand from your shoulder and take a step back.

He turns his back to you and stands for a moment, seemingly lost in thought and then slowly lets out a low, sexy laugh. He turns back to you and walks confidently in your direction, a devilish smile tugging at his lips.

"I am going to blame the fact you're tired as the reason you're acting fucking dumb right now y/n", he growls before sliding his hands down the back of your legs and skilfully lifting you up so your legs are wrapped around his waist. You don't even know how he did it, but your body is reacting to his and you find your hands have wrapped themselves around his neck too. Felix uses the wall again to press you up against it, lips mere inches away from yours.

"Because you really must be dumb to not realise how long I have wanted you".

Your eyes widen as you look down at him, feeling the closeness between you.

“What are you talking about”? you whisper, afraid to hear your own voice.

"Wow, you really didn't know?" he asks to which you shake your head in response.

"Then let me show you"...

He slowly lowers you down so your faces meet. He lets go of one of the hands holding your legs and brings it to your cheek before closing the gap between you.

Finally his lips meet yours, causing a tingling sensation to run throughout your body. All of your senses set alive in just one moment. The kiss started soft and light, but slowly grew more heated as he nipped against your bottom lip, causing you to moan lightly in his mouth. You can't help the way your body is reacting, pulling his closer and closer, trying to become one with him. Every fibre of your body feels like its been set alight, like the fizzling lit string to a bomb ready to explode.

Felix manages to pull you away for a second, his thumb tracing against your skin and his eyes flickering from your beautiful orbs, back to your swollen lips.

"I have fucking loved you from the moment we met, there never was anyone else y/n. I haven't been with any other girls, though I lied and said I did...I think I was trying to get a reaction from you or maybe I was trying to convince myself it didn't hurt...but the truth is that its only you that lives in my heart and these past weeks without you has been unbearable". You can see his eyes well up with each word he says.

"I am sorry Lix, I didn't think you felt the same as me" you respond, eyes also filling from the words you always wanted to hear.

"I think I have alot more to prove to you, don't you think"? he smiles, wiping away your tears before removing his own.

"I think you should start now" you say, pulling him back in and finding his lips once again.

He wastes no time carrying you to the bedroom, clothes being removed and discarded on the way.

You knew before you even started that he was about to show you everything he felt, but nothing could truly prepare you for the night of pleasure and love that lay ahead.

.

.

.

Should I do a smutty part 2?? ;) Let me know if you want to be tagged ♥️

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

P is for "Prevent"

Raph didn’t make it to the punching bag before he started swinging. The crack as his knuckles hit the wall made Donnie flinch at Mikey’s bedside, tears springing to red-rimmed, black-bagged eyes. Leo swallowed hard. After treating Mikey’s…everything, Don didn’t need the additional work of broken fingers.

He let Raph have five swings before moving in, hugging too tight, too fast for those fists to turn on him. Instead Raph scrabbled at his shell, digging in, his voice a croak between heavy breaths.

“This never should’ve…It shouldn’t’ve…I should’ve been able to…!”

“We all did everything we could.”

[shunshunrika]

We KNOW who tops lmao

ALSO

WHY IS GOJO BUILT LIKE A BABYGIRL I SWEAR

ASKING TO BE RAILED BY SUGURU

[joycies]

so i have a fic THOUGHT.

what about a universe where miguel's daughter lives and becomes spiderman(girl) , but not before her father(miguel) dies. and so what you have is a spidergirl who's cannon event was losing her father and a spiderman 2099 who's cannon event was losing his daughter, and through the spider dimension thingy, you're able to reunite them together and somehow, someway, they'd be able to fill each other's void.

but that doesn't happen. because when miguel sees his daughter, the one who he's never been able to watch grow up, there's this feeling of guilt. she's his 'daughter', but she's also, essentially a stranger. and she sees him, and he looks the same as her real father, but he doesn't remember her. he doesn't remember the last (let's say) decade and a half she's spent with him, because again, he's not her father, not really.

and so you have these two people, who theoretically, should be able to fill the void of each other's hearts, but in reality, can't see past the memories of the person they had lost when they see each other.

what happens is that, as they work together as an organisation, they never really get closer, instead, they become this strange pairing that has the awkwardness of coworkers, but cares for each other like family. they would never speak to each other, or at the very best, have a proper conversation together, but they'll sneak glances at each other across the room, just to ensure to themselves they they're okay, and very much still alive.

miguel's 'daughter' would call him boss, because calling him dad would open up a whole can of worms she's not ready for, and calling him miguel seems like something so far over the line of disrespect that she can't even force herself to say it.

miguel doesn't call her by her name, because he only thinks of his little baby daughter that he'd lost when he utters it, so he settles with calling her kid.

when one or the other gets hurt, there's this feeling of pure panic that overcomes them, and it riddles their mind, and they can't think, and they can't breath, and suddenly, they're back in their universe, miguel losing his daughter, and her daughter losing him, all over again.

when she hears about miguel's unfortunate story, the one that'd happen before even meeting her, she gets this strange mix of sadness, and happiness, and bitterness. the sadness is quite self explanatory, but the happiness comes from the thought that in one way or another, he did that for her, or at the very least, another version of her. there's this sort of warmth she gets when she realizes just the extent that he just loves her. and then comes bitterness, because after this unfortunate ending, he'd seemed to given up on her. what about the current her? the one that's actually grown up and alive against all possibilities? he'll destroy a universe for another her, but he won't even look at the current, alive her without a grimace? is it because she's older? because she's not the same baby girl he remembers?

and when the whole anomaly dabacle starts, she immediately takes miles' side. she fights for him with a passion that's rarely ever present. there's a disappointment that she feels in everyone, but even more in miguel, because miles is just a boy who wants to save his father, and yet all he could see was an anomoly going against his fate.

and so she fights and fights and fights until miles is able to get away, and for the first time since she'd first come here, miguel actually approaches her, with a look of anger? confusion? disappointment? and this, this, she's familiar with, because for once, miguel actually gives her an ounce of attention that her 'real' father would give. and he'd ask her what the hell she's doing. why was she letting miles go? doesn't she know the consequences this could cause?

and miguel would look like he'd just gotten slapped in the face from the pure venom she has in her words, and ironically enough, this is the most father-daughter conversation they'd ever had.

and she'd look at him with an expression if pure disappointment, and goes 'if i ever had even the slightest chance of getting my father back, i'd do it in a heartbeat. i don't fucking care about anything else.'

he'd stumble on his words, and against his better judgement, he'd just sputter out, 'you have me'.

and she would give the most heartbroken look she'd ever had. somehow, this hurt so much more than the years of wilfull ignorance of each other's existence.

'you're not my father,' she would say after a deep breath. 'you're just someone who looks like him'

[septic-dr-schneep]

V is for "Vanish"

“Now that Mark’s given us the boot, how long do y’think it’ll be?” Ed muttered, staring out at the sunset. The radiant colors only reminded him how relentlessly time passed. “’Fore the viewers forget ’bout us?”

Bim’s fingers drummed anxiously on the porch railing. “We could ask the Host. He could Look ahead, try to See—”

“Don’t,” Silver Shepherd whispered. “Please. I don’t want a ticking clock over my head. I-I just want to live, I just want it to be like it always was.”

“Well, it’s not,” Ed snapped. “We’re not. We ain’t ever gonna have that life again.”

[septic-skele]

B is for "Bleach"

Asgore didn’t want to spend another second here. He wanted to fall into bed and weep but this was his mess. He should be the one to tend it.

Human remains were so much harder to clean than monsters’. Blood couldn’t be swept and gathered in one’s hands like dust; blood splashed, streaked and sprayed across the Barrier room in yards.

Cleaning solution stinging his eyes and nostrils, he painstakingly sponged every speck of it. It was the least he could do for blood paid toward the cause.

Of course, the stain on his soul wouldn’t be so easily removed.

[everlastingleuthymia]

Sassy Muichiro

[evintide]

five times smiled ( oh god from twilight oh fuck )

five times drabble prompts » ★ !!

ONE » this realm is strange. despite the imposed twilight that now coats it’s very essence, the air feels thick, ill with intent and filled with unfamiliar scents. at least her malformed figure can move freely through this gloom, and for that she is thankful. it does little to tamp down on her nerves however, ever eager to figure out her next step. visiting that princess had given her some ideas on what to do, but little with which to enact them. she had to steal away whenever one of her mutated kin came to check up on the hylian ruler, an act that always struck a bolt of shame and anger through her heart.

but she had to bide her time. soon. soon. Zant and his strange new god could not be all seeing, so there had to be a weak spot with which she could exploit. she'd been able to hide away a large piece of one of their most precious relics from the usurper during her escape, but in it’s fractured state she stood no chance against him. she needed help… but the thought of praying to her ancestors felt wrong. they hadn’t come to her in her time of need, why would they now?

perhaps she disregards their grace too soon, or maybe it’s a genius stroke of luck. whichever it is, something answers her inward pleas. someone screams in the distance — one that lacks the garbled tone of the transformed twili, nor the lyrical voice of those unchanged. hope compels her forward and it takes mere minutes for Midna to find the source.

they find him before she does. not that it will do anything to stop her, but it serves as a bump in her path. no matter, she thinks, watching as the large beast is dragged away by one of Zant's minions. she knows what he is even if those who take him do not. he has to have been sent to her for a reason and she won’t let him slip out of her grasp so easily. she has a good enough idea on where they’re going, and as a devilish smile splits her lips apart, she knows soon enough her plans will start coming together.

TWO » the story is old. like ash on her tongue and bitterness in her heart, she lays out the darkness that has stained her tribe from its very inception. a tale she’s heard since birth, the mold with which she and her kinsmen were created and warned not to repeat. the secret that had torn their world in two, and bound her to a realm just beyond reach. not that he would know. very few did here, she surmised, and while that offered her a marginal amount of comfort before, knowing that he remained in the dark did not. she owes him that much, after everything.

she floats behind Link, material now in the scorching light, but unable to bring herself to look at him while her tale unfolds. would he think any different of her, knowing who she came from? of what she sought now, even after causing him so much anguish?

she inhales sharply, closes her lone eye and chooses to face the sun. not the one that freely beams across her shadowed skin, but the one that has been her constant through it all. if she was to make such an daunting request, she’d best do it face to face. thus she floats before Link, casting aside any hesitation and requests his help. his companionship, his support.

“ you’ll come with me, won’t you? "

the smile he gives is quiet, reassuring, and above all else brilliant to her. she knows not what to say in the face of it, giving only the smallest of nods before dashing back into his shadow. Midna tells herself the warmth that spreads through her is from the foreign sensation of being in the desert sun. but the other, wiser part of her knows it comes from the equally small smile that sneaks its way across her face.

THREE » she isn’t against him helping others. far from it, given how patient and understanding he has been through her own requests. ( or demands to be specific, but that's something she was working on… ) still, it’s hard to find any sort of understanding in this odd little side quest of his. with the once hidden village now cleared out of bulblin’s, the town of Kakariko had unexpectedly become over run with… cats. very needy cats, at that. a proverbial wave of which loved to shadow the hylian hero wherever he went now, cloying after him in a chorus of meows.

she had half a mind to remind him they had other things to do — some very important things at that. but the way his eyes lit up with every new little furry friend that approached made her give pause. maybe she shouldn’t be this surprised at how animals flocked to him — she’d seen the array with which were kept back at his home village, and the way small pups and other cats chased him in the streets of the city. so seeing him flocked after so fervently in the middle of nowhere shouldnt be too much of a change of pace.

he didn’t have to say anything to her after chatting up with the village’s lone cucco. one look of those large blue eyes told her enough of what she needed to know. so with a roll of her lone eye, the twili gave a shrug of surrender.

“ alright, fine. but there’d better be something good after all this. ”

she couldn't figure out if he was wagging his tail because of her acquiescence or her inevitable smile, but Midna didn’t bother to give it much thought.

FOUR » her heart breaks a little when Zelda leaves her. but she is back, in her own mind and form, and that is enough. even if she cannot return to her own, Midna, for the first time in what feels like forever, is glad to see that someone who has given up so much can be graced with another chance. it’s hard to face the other princess, her returning radiance nearly blinding, once silent kindness given word. spoken so softly but strong enough to shatter the imp’s heart. she can’t find the right words to say — whether to offer thanks, apology, or both all at once.

none of them are given the chance -- not before the force of Ganondorf reforms again, a malignant curse that refuses to accept defeat no matter how much they push back. the trio turns to see the shadowy cloud form a cruel, snarling face, down but not out, even after being twice struck down.

Midna inhales, closes her eye. so. it’s come to this.

with a subtle flex she summons the shards of her ancestors relic once more, feels the dark energy radiate power as they circle her to fit together over her figure. she doesn’t have to look at Link to know he understands what’s about to happen. hears the sharp inhale, feels the reach of his hand. the least she can do is send them off with one final smile; an attempt of mirroring the same they had both gifted her throughout their journey. a silent thank you, for all that they’ve done, what they’ve sacrificed, in the name of her selfishness and narrow minded view.

it was time to return the favor, win or lose. and she would not have them face any more danger on her behalf.

as the helm reconnects and the power of darkness thrums through her, Midna's smile remains. they’re safe, and that’s all that matters.

FIVE » she always relished leaving people speechless. the reaction she receives is expected, but no less enjoyed when he outright beams. a source of light in his own right, the twili ruler couldn’t help but laugh, and their reunion is warm, exhausted, and damp with joyous tears.

but their time is finite, even if they don’t know it. she does, for in her heart of hearts she knows what must be done. even as the sun begins to peak over the mountains in the distance, Midna wills it to slumber just a little longer, as they traverse over soil and sand to make their way towards her home. her final destination, and theirs the beginning of a new chapter.

may ignorance be bliss, as he still smiles. she as well, but with a more somber edge. maybe her fellow queen knows, but Midna doesn’t try to look too deeply for it. fears it, almost, for the warmth she once shared with Zelda is now just a budding memory, so she tries to make up for it in gentle touches and coy smirks. if Zelda notices, she doesn’t say, and for that Midna will always be thankful.

goodbyes are always difficult. hyrule’s queen is pragmatic but kind, Link her silent but gentle advocate. seeing them there, together and whole, is like having two pieces of a puzzle finally laid out before her. yet, those pieces belong elsewhere. so she resolves herself, turning to take the last few steps towards home, and at the top looks down at them one final time.

her breath hitches, lips tremble. and as the tear falls, she reaches out, then retreats. as the glass shatters, she looks at him with a watery gaze and smiles.

" ... see you later. "

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

G is for "Guarantee"

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” Leo grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. He shouldn’t have asked. To compensate he could make up his own answer, forge ahead, eyes never leaving their brother’s battered, ashen face. “I mean, it’s…it’s Raph. He’s too stubborn to…He’s gotten through worse.”

He was trying to turn a moment of uncertainty into a moment of confidence because Don couldn’t. Doctors, caretakers, fixers in general weren’t supposed to promise the families anything, no matter how everything in him burned to reassure and to be assured.

He’ll be fine. He has to be.

[mysteria157]

Undone

nanami kento x black fem reader

wc- 2.8k

warnings- angst, heavy themes, mental health and healing, the fluff that nanami brings.

a/n: I have been feeling like poo these past few days and trying to find my voice in writing. So I created a little drabble that helped me feel better. hopefully, it does for others as well. happy reading

divider: @saradika | JJK Masterlist

He hasn’t heard from you in days.

Granted, that first date was 12 weeks ago, but Nanami is used to the string of texts between you that is consistently pinging—a feat that Nanami never thought to reach. He’s used to the late night phone calls, the FaceTimes that are meaningless because he just wants to look at you. But for the first time, you turned him down.

Three days ago, on the morning of a nice dinner he had planned, you called with a scratchy voice, “I’m just really tired today, but I’ll be shipshape in no time!” You had insisted.

With vigilance sewn into his body since the day he could remember, Nanami notices right away something is wrong. Maybe it was the distant crack of your words. Maybe it was the fact that you cleared your throat once, no—two times to make yourself sound as professional as possible. As if Nanami is an employer and not the man you’ve decided to let into his life.

Regardless, he was as polite as always. Content to change the subject and send you well wishes before hanging up. The meme texted to his phone five minutes later, sweetening whatever sour concoction had manifested in his belly from your phone call. But still…Nanami knows. So he waits.

He waits three days of agonizing silence before a maelstrom of worry finally claws its way to the surface of his pool of impassivity. He stops by the market first and grabs ingredients. There’s a soup recipe you love—a recipe he soaked up like a sponge as he hovered near you in your kitchen during your first date. He’ll make that.

On his way out of the market, his eyes catch a bouquet of Asian lilies. Sunset orange petals adorned with long dark stamen. He picks up a modest bouquet—something large enough to make you smile every time you see them, but not too much to make you sneeze from your allergies.

It’s 6:47 PM when Nanami’s shoes touch your welcome mat. Even as his eyes trace the tawny ‘Welcome!’ made of coir, he can feel the unease wafting from behind your closed door. Your spare key rests in his closed hand, the metal digging into his palm in a silent question. You insisted that it wasn’t too soon in the relationship for this, to have access to each other in this way. After all, finally opening his heart to love after keeping it locked behind the demands of work, Nanami wanted to take things slowly. But you had other plans—you always do. And now, Nanami is glad to have relented so quickly when you gave him the spare key two weeks ago.

You’re a tidy person, meticulous to a fault. So it’s easy for him to spot the littering of disarray. The curtains are drawn tight, casting your home into darkness. A trail of clothes starts from the door and trails to your room. There are dirty dishes in your sink—you hate going to bed with a messy kitchen. The air is permeable—a physical being that Nanami can see the particles as they float and scurry with his movements through your home.

He finds you in your room, a tornado of dirty clothes and empty takeout containers, three blankets deep, with only the top of your hair visible. The air is just as stale in here—heavy with the kind of silence that comes to life from too many hours alone with dark thoughts. Your phone lies on your nightstand, face-down, notifications from others probably neglected along with Nanami’s. He hates the sight, angry at whatever malevolent force that’s decided to torment you, and now he fights it.

The rustle of Nanami setting his things down makes you stir, the lump of covers oscillating with your movements as a flash of your melanin-rich skin pokes from the dark hole where you reside. Your eyes meet his—surprised, alarmed, and immediately angry.

“Get out,” you snap, your voice gravelly from disuse. Through the curtain of your textured hair, Nanami catches a sliver of your icy gaze, foggy with the heaviness he can smell in the room. He takes a step closer, and it’s a step too far. Your tired eyes widen with a simmering fury that makes Nanami think twice.

“Why can’t you listen?! You can’t be here…” you stop short, squeezing the covers around your already decaying form like a lifeline. “Not when I’m—like this.”

He takes another cautious step—your eyes narrow, a weak challenge—then another until he sits at the edge of your bed. The dip from his weight causes your feet to curve into the cavern, toes touching his thighs from beneath your covers.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

The still air seems to vibrate from your fury, dust motes zipping haphazardly as if being pulled back and forth by an invisible force.

“Call you? Call you?? So you could see this? So you could see how I can’t even—“A lump of confusion and rage dies in your throat, the sound gurgling like a sewage pipe. His hands clasp the blanket that covers your shoulders, pulling you up gently with no resistance. You want to smack his hands away, to yell at him to leave and never come back. Because you’re not ready for him to see you like this. Not yet.

But despite the bark of your bite, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically.

“I wanted to wait a few weeks,” you ramble, eyes turned away from him as you shiver from the cold air on your exposed upper half. You’re still wearing the same shirt from three days ago when you called Nanami to cancel; your eyes had already been filled with tears, your throat suffocating beneath torrential thoughts and negativity that springs to life when you least expect it.

“No one wants to see this so soon.”

“From that statement alone, I’m going to assume the men you dated before were below average in all respects.”

“Everyone expects some grandiose gesture to make all of…this go away. And it’s not that fucking simple.” You don’t acknowledge his assessment. Still rambling, still trying to push him away even as he stands. He pulls you up with him with a firm grip still on your shoulders, his care poking at your defenses with inquisitive fingers.

Your knees buckle, threatening to give out without the reassurance of his hold. Your rambling falls to the wayside, fading into the air around you as you finally comprehend your new position in front of him. Standing for the first time in days, the strength of his hands radiates warmth down to your toes. The room falls quiet, opening its ears to your uneven breathing and the smell of tears.

One beat. Two beats. Three.

“It seems you’re standing now,” he says simply, the low crooning timbre of his voice wafting over your face. You heave in a stuttering breath, suck down his air, and let it fill you from the inside with care you’ve neglected. Nanami doesn’t leave his words open for discussion. There is no question hidden in his matter-of-face statement. There is no undercurrent of judgment.

“A bath.”

“What? Kento—no. I don’t need—I don’t deserve—“ His hand slides from your shoulder to cup your cheek, silencing you with its warmth. You resist leaning into his touch, too embarrassed that he can see you like this—stinky, tired, so utterly crestfallen that you can barely function.

“I’ll draw you a bath. I’ll make you dinner. And once I’m sure you’re at least full and clean, then I’ll go. Until you’re ready for me again.”

Steam rises around you in the bathroom, carrying eucalyptus and lavender from the bath oils you like to indulge in on a terrible day like this one. You draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your limbs to bury your head in the gap it creates. Your eyes catch the water droplets on your skin, hydrophobic and suspended in time before sliding into the bath water.

When you turn your head to the side, you catch your living room from the open door. He’s cleaned up—opened the curtains, picked up the laundry, and vacuumed the floors. One of your candles burns bright, the low whir of your washing machine sashaying through the apartment. All things you just haven’t had the energy to do.

It started off small, it always does. One thought—fleeting and infinitesimal—but still heavy with a nervousness that plants in your mind like a maggot, burrowing its way through the meat. Your symptoms are more anxious thoughts, more poor remarks of yourself, more he’s successful who are you kidding? More maybe they don’t like you, why can’t you see that? More once Kento sees this side of you, he’ll never want you again.

More, more, more even though those thoughts hold little evidence to prove true. But for you, those maggots burrow until there is nothing left of you but a hollow shell, a husk that has no choice and no energy but to lay down in bed and sleep the days away until the meat heals again.

Beneath the steam, you can spell the mix of thyme, peeled tomatoes, and garlic. The tomato soup you showed him how to make on your first date. He was inquisitive, watching silently, his eyes falling on yours too often to take good notes. Now, it’s another show of this man you’re growing to love, crafting something for you with his own hands, affection beneath the veil of reservation that he shows everyone else.

It’s too much for you. The tears come quietly, spilling down your cheeks and into the bath water, polluting the love that was used to create it.

You hear his footsteps, padded feet on your now clean floor as he walks into the bathroom and takes in the sight of you. You blink against the rush of embarrassment, too tired to wipe the tears away, too tired to hide a vulnerability you wanted to keep a lid on for awhile longer.

He walks to your sink, gathering product, a hair bottle, and a wide-toothed comb before coming back to you. He kneels beside the tub and rolls up his navy sleeves without ceremony, pinching off his glasses before he sets them on the floor. He’s soft but efficient in the way he rubs your bar soap on your loofah, getting it nice and sudsy. He’s relaxed but observant—his tie loosened but not completely off, his forearms flexing with quelled strength as he washes your back and shoulders, the slight furrow of concentration in his brows as he measures his next words.

“Strawberry and cream cheese danishes.”

“Hm?”

“If I eat one, I’ll want more. So I try to stay away when I can.” Nanami continues, washing the soap off your shoulders before he hands you the loofah. You take it without question, watching him disappear to sit behind you as you wash your limbs.

“After Yu…I would bury my sorrow in work. I worked and worked and worked until my boss forced me to take time off. It’s a sneaky sickness. It likes to watch over you and strike the very moment your guard is down.”

You hear the squeeze of your hair bottle behind you, your snarled strands soaking with rosemary-scented mist in his gentle fingers.

“It’s been years. But when it does hit, that darkness that seems to strangle me and tell me that I should have tried harder, that I should have protected him….I like to go across the street from my home and get a strawberry and cream cheese danish.”

You know Nanami has a sweet tooth. You’ve seen the way his eyes light up from the pies that you like to make, always bringing him a slice to work. You’ve seen the sidelong glance he gives strudel that steams behind glass display cases at the bakery he takes you to. But to imagine him leaving his apartment in the dead of night, wrinkled clothes and bags beneath his eyes, not showered in days—paying for a danish…you hitch a breath, a chuckle squeaking and dying in your throat with a painful lurch.

“Why are you laughing?” He admonishes. You can practically feel the lifted brow and gentle smile on your back. Your skin tingles with the movement of his fingers as he works them through your hair, detangling with rosemary and leave-in conditioner

“Do you buy the three-pack?”

Silence. A pause in your hair before baby hairs flutter from the puff of air he shoots out. You bite your lip to keep the dry smile from forming.

“No,” he lies, playfully.

The heaviness in the air gives way to a light current of brightness from your fleeting smile, from the smell of the tub, and your hair now detangled and loose before shrinkage claims it.

“I’m not sure what’s compelled you to think there’s a proper time to tell me that your thoughts grow dark at random moments in your life. Now, two months from now, it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

The declaration wraps around you, sliding down your ajar mouth and curdling in your lungs with certainty, taking root in the muscle for the foreseeable future.

“And if it is alright,” he continues, carding his fingers through your hair to plait it into a single braid. “I would like to love every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide. The parts that make you think that you’re not good enough—for me, or your friends, or anyone else. If anything, being able to be here, right now, is a privilege I’ll cherish.”

When the fresh tears spill over again, they no longer taint the water you soak in. They cleanse, collecting and filtering away the depression and anxiety that claims so much of your life when you least expect it.

After, when you’re clean and smelling of Shea butter that Nanami slathered you in, you sink into your now clutter-free sofa. The exhaustion settles on your bones in a different way. Well earned after a long battle instead of invasive and unasked for.

Your eyes rest on the lovely bouquet of Asian lilies on your coffee table, fresh with stems cut, curling toward you with open petals so you can see the beauty inside. The gesture fills you with more of that feeling, of love that you never imagined to come so soon with a man like him.

Nanami walks around the sofa, a tray that he sets in front of you carrying his own rendition of your tomato soup, toasted sourdough grilled cheese, and a tall glass of water.

“Extra basil?” You ask, lips wobbly around a smile as you take in another form of his adoration that you’ll have forever if he allows it.

“Extra basil.”

When he returns with his own tray, his hair falling over his eyes in a heap of hard work, he offers you a look. A measured look that’s filled with everything he wants to give, an excitement in his warm brown eyes that you can’t wait to see more of. But it’s shrouded in a gentle reservation with gaps only visible to you. Soft smiles for you. Loving touches for you. A beacon in storms that brew seemingly out of nowhere just for you.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against your forehead, a safe place where he can take some part of you while you heal. But you’d like more. So you tilt your head for him, soaking the warmth from his lips that press against yours softly.

Suddenly, your worries, your dark thoughts, your misery that you let keep you beneath your blankets for days all smoothed over from his touch. Satiated until those maggots in your mind wiggle to life again when they’re hungry.

“Marcus didn’t give a rose to Janine.” He says casually as he draws back to his side and turns on the TV, nonchalant as if he didn’t just spend the evening putting you back together with gentle hands and quiet love.

You relax into his side, looking at his arm with teary eyes as he rests it on the couch behind you, offering a blanket of comfort and safety that you haven’t had in a long time.

“Gojo spoiled it,” Nanami continues, grumbling and annoyed at the two syllables of Gojo’s name touching his tongue. He blows at his spoon of soup, eyes locked on the screen, his sharp features colored with flickering blues and reds.

He notices your stillness—of course, he notices—and offers you another kiss on your cheek before turning back to the show.

“I’ll steal his kikufuku as punishment,” you offer, arm shaking with the gentle chuckle he gives in response.

The soup steams in your hands, your hair soft and braided, your body worshiped and clean, Nanami’s heartbeat permeable beneath his clothes as you sink into him and sip your delicious soup.

For the first time in years, you know when the world feels heavy, he’ll be able to lift that weight off of you before it buries you away.