#but im angry and feeling a bit silly

[remusawoooo]

why do some of you post like it's remus' (a fictional character) fault that sirius is misinterpreted in fandom?? 😭😭 both of them are getting shat on, it's just interesting that some of you don't think that the alpha imposition is as demeaning as a feminine interpretation.

not that people don't make fun of the alpha remus tag, but somehow it's seen as "remus is made better than the pathetic loser that he is" while some even argue that sirius is the real alpha dom with his cigarettes and bikes. can we hit the brakes before swinging too much to the other end of the spectrum. if you still want a f/m dyanmic with sirius and remus roles reversed, how much credibility does your argument really have lmao.

[fellhellion]

Something something the spot’s goofy antics distract from how dangerous his own entitlement and resentment is

[alchemiclee]

i've been told/keep seeing posts about people suddenly not liking when people add tags to their posts with their own thoughts/feelings/opnions/experiences, and even people that say not to tag with certain common organizational tags (like ships for example i see the most. some people use a ship name for organization purposes and not necessarily for shipping. for example i use "collei and her dads" for cyno, tighnari, collei art for my organization so I cam find them again and theres been a few artists screaming not to use ship tags and that could be seen as a ship tag. so what do i do? not organize your art into my tags and let it get lost and never seen again? not share your art at all? kinda silly but whatever, ill just ignore your art).

I personally think that's all a bit ridiculous....i don't know if that's a more recent thing (like with twitter people coming here suddenly and expecting to act like this is twitter) or if it happened in the years since I took a break from tumblr. but bAcK iN mY DaY we used tags as a little whisper to add our own thoughts without interrupting the main post. adding hard comments or replies was more seen as "too much/too loud" if it wasn't something directly meant for OP. tags were usually never meant for OP and were always for the reblogger and their followers. these days more and more people seem to think tags on their posts are all speaking to them directly or interrupting their post (not to say you can't speak to OP through tags, like i'll say nice things about their art in tags) but not everything in someone's tags on a post they reblog from you is for you! you can ignore it!!!

I know on twitter (where I went after leaving tumblr a while back) people use quote retweets to speak to the OP often. but not always. I sometimes would quote a tweet to add my own thoughts while using the quote as like a citation to credit OP for the idea. but I have a few times where the OP thought I was speaking to/about them and got very upset about it. one was a large account who quoted me back and got very nasty and sent their minions after me. quotes are louder than tumblr tags. so that's more understandable, and I was always very hesitant to do it, but I personally see indirect tweets about another post as extremely rude and posting screenshots of tweets on twitter is also rude.

I loved coming back here mainly for the tag system! I missed being able to share a post and also quietly add my thoughts. go on long rambles related to the main post without stealing their post completely or needing to make a whole new post. I know most old tumblr users get that and don't care, probably. I NEVER saw anyone complain about it in the past. only say how much they love it. it was just part of how this site worked for us. a culture thing we naturally created. so i'm assuming it's mostly new users who don't get this culture? it also doesn't help tumblr made it so you now see tags in your notes tab and not just comments added and replies. before, you would have to go to "someone reblogged your post" to see if they added tags because tumblr only showed comments. I personally LOVE when people add tags to my post with their thoughts and stories and whatnot. ai i'd go to every reblog I got to see if there's tags added. it's like an uncommitted interaction. they dont expect a reply, i don't expect a reply. they are isolated thoughts, but still related. it's still a form of interaction, without the pressure of being direct, and I feel seen/heard when they add them. (it means they're not a bot, auto reblogging my posts /hj) seeing tags on my posts i'm not just shouting into the void alone and someone sees me. me adding tags to a post is a gentle "you're not alone/I hear you/im a real person not a bot" from me. but it also could be me saying "your post inspired me! I want to write something too! but im being quiet about it so i dont take away from your post and your post gets all the credit" when I add my own little tag ramble.

so the fact that people are now suddenly being upset by people adding their own experiences and thoughts to tags is super disappointing and and frankly annoying. tags don't take away from your post and you can just ignore them! no one is forcing you to expand the tags in your notes and read them! hardly anyone will see them. most will only read your post and not people's tags! I know no one usually reads my tags because i've added secret messages to the end of my tags and no one ever responds to it lmao things like send a pic in my ask and i'll draw it for you.

yes I know "RESPECT PEOPLE BOUNDARIES" but it kind of disrespects my needs as well. theres a thin line between someone's boundaries being crosses and someone's needs not being met. but that's a whole debate i'm not willing to have so don't start it. (not that kind of boundary is easy to not cross. not bringing up arguments. but asking people to not use a main function of a website is kind of pushing it imo...) yeah I want to respect boundaries the best i can, but unless you say in the post "don't reblog and add your own tags" no one will know and you get upset when no one knows. and no, no one will read your profile/pinned post before reblogging. no one will go to the original post and read your tags. they will only reblog it right off their dash if they aren't seeing it directly from you in the tags/for you page. some people will reblog 100 posts a day. they won't go to every profile/original post before reblogging just to see if you have any special conditions and rules for your random one post out of hundreds they see a day. that's too much to expect, honestly, sorry to say!

but this is tumblr. maybe it's better for people to accept the culture/etiquette here and let it happen without complaining, or realize this isn't the place for them! because it doesn't meet their needs and boundaries! and that's ok! it doesn't have to be your place. you don't need to stay here if you don't like how it works! asking an entire website to "respect your boundaries" by not participating in a basic or essential function of the website is a little ridiculous to be fair....

no i'm not saying your boundaries don't deserve to be respected. i'm saying this probably isn't the place to have those boundaries in the first place. because there's am established way this site functions that works in counter to your wanted boundaries, so it just doesn't fit your needs. and like I said that's ok! you don't need to stay here if it upsets you that much! it's better if you find a social media where people can't share your posts. like a simple blog site that doesn't have a share function! or like Instagram? people cant share those posts. (sorry, I dont know much about social media) if you really want people to stop adding tags that bad, either turn off reblogs completely, or ask staff to add a notification option to turn off seeing added tags on reblogs! (if you're veeerry lucky, and not a trans woman, they might listen to you)

[vivalasthedas]

hmmm

does this seem neutrally polite enough? I want it to be clear I really don't think it's intentional, that I'm not trying to be condescending, that it's up to them what they do with this info, but that if they're unaware of this they should probably take a second to do a google and make a decision for themselves

'This looks awesome! Just wanted to let you know, as I don't know how common knowledge this is, so I'm super sorry if you were already aware and don't intend to acknowledge it (totally cool!), but chonky lace ups - like these and along the line of docs irl - are often associated with the lace code. A way to sort of signify a belief or political stance. White laces is for white supremacists, and red are neonazis. Again, to be really clear, Im not saying you need to change any of these! I don't know if anyone will care, or notice in the context of the game, but I thought it was worth saying in case you weren't aware and if it were something you'd want to know!'

[upwards-descent]

For the uninitiated, in BG3 you get visited by a mysterious figure in your dreams who claims to be aiding you, using some unknown power to shield you from mind flayer influence. After you design your player character, you then design this Dream Visitor so they can look like almost anything akin to the customizations your PC can be

And I'm laughing because with Cai, I made the Visitor look like Fjord from Critical Role

And then with Rizal, the Visitor looked like the daughter he'd been forced to forget

And now with Autumn, my Durge, the Visitor looks like his ex-boyfriend who had once convinced him to be a lot less evil

So that's fun

[birdyverdie]

Not to vent on main but this has been a truly shit year

[achilleslyre]

i see these ppl sometimes going on these massive rants about how ppl who ship xyz have zero reading comprehension or no critical analysis and i’m always just staring at those posts like 😑😑 cause it’s literally always just a silly little gay ship. like don’t get me wrong if u dislike it idgaf and u have every right not to like it. mass majority of the time *i* don’t like it or simply don’t care but. just block the tag bro? like if it seriously bugs u THAT much that ur saying u get genuinely pissed off every time u see it. just…. use the filters. i get not everyone tags their shit but lots do. block ppl that make that content a lot. idk what to tell you. like i get complaining about it if it was an actually problematic ship but mass majority of the time it’s literally two guys who are friends and also frankly look gay. yes blah blah blah friendships matter but also it’s rlly not that deep as long as the ship isn’t causing harm. some of y’all are simply just haters. sincerely signed, a hater.

[tittysuckersworld]

vent tw, if you have depression please please just dont interact-

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

CALL MY NAME AND I'LL COME RUNNING ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru can be irritating, at times. but even if you push him away, he’ll always, always be there for you when you need him.

word count; 8.7k (this was supposed to b a short drabble but i was possessed by the devil halfway through)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, reader n toru have a fight, mild swearing (a couple fucks here n there), hurt/comfort, satoru has communication issues but he’s trying his best, depictions of stalking (reader gets followed by a random creep but satoru comes to the rescue dw), uhh implied thoughts of violence? (satoru wants to Maul said dude but doesn’t), literally just me being in love with satoru gojo for 8.7k words straight

a/n; no thoughts head empty only gojo running through the streets like a wild beast looking for u <33 im normal about him yeah.

“you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

satoru smiles. the sentence isn’t one he’s unaccustomed to hearing.

usually, the words are soaked in an undeniable fondness, as they spill from your lips. rich with exasperated love. one that never fails to have the corners of satoru’s lips curling up, a mellow kind of joy blossoming in his chest.

but now, that fondness is nowhere to be found. 

you sound thoroughly exasperated, and a little bit fatigued. more than anything else, there’s a vague irritation behind the tilt of your voice, something almost cold. it makes all the difference in the world. 

and yet, despite that, a certain someone chooses to pay no heed to the bad omen.

“aw, c’mon. you know you love me, baby.”

satoru is grinning. lighthearted, awfully sweet. there’s a certain smugness to it, though, one he couldn’t wash away even if he was aware of it; you wouldn’t do so even if you could. that smugness is a part of him, one that you’d usually find endearing. 

but right now, it only seeks to further your frustration.

it was a stupid fight, truthfully. completely meaningless. satoru had forgotten to pick up after himself for, like, the fourth consecutive time, and so you grew annoyed. not by a lot, but enough that you felt the need to be firm when you reminded him not to make the same mistake over and over again.

but satoru had only grinned, in that self-satisfied fashion of his, and apologized in a way you couldn’t possibly call sincere. then he did what he usually does — promises to work on it. to not do it again. he never follows through, though.

but even that thought wasn’t anywhere near enough to make you truly angry. what really began to irk you was the fact that satoru wasn’t taking you seriously, even in the slightest.

that’s how he always is, when it comes to this kind of thing. and you try to be patient, you do. you try to be understanding. sometimes you even appreciate that he keeps the atmosphere light, but other times, you just can’t help but feel irritated by it.

and the current situation happens to fall into the latter category.

you don’t care if satoru leaves a candy wrapper or two out, every once in a while. of course you don’t. it’s a silly thing to argue about. but would it hurt for him to just listen to you? to try to put himself in your shoes, for once? it’s not about the wrappers, or the undone dishes. it’s about the way he treats you when you complain about it — like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter. even if it obviously does, to you.

so, gradually, the topic of your little argument began to shift, into a conversation about satoru. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to talk about the things that bother you in a serious fashion. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to take you seriously.

and he just keeps proving your point, with every word that falls from his lips.

at this point, you’re genuinely beginning to feel a little angry. but satoru doesn’t see that as the warning sign it is — he just thinks it’s cute. he’s just been cooing at you, this whole time, despite your numerous attempts to actually explain how much his behavior affects you sometimes. it feels a bit like talking to a wall. satoru keeps on teasing you, even as you try to be firm about your point, and only brushes you off with empty promises to do better and more unneeded comments about how much he wants to hug you when you pout like that.

and you falter, a little. of course you do. you’re weak to satoru. weak to his words, that sweet voice of his, that pretty grin. but that only makes everything worse, because if you let yourself look even a little bit flustered at his comments, he sees that as his cue to continue.

you don’t even know if he’s doing it on purpose, at this point. is he doing it because he knows it’ll annoy you, or does he genuinely not understand that you’re upset? you’d like to think that there’s no malicious intent behind it, but can’t he see how troubled you are? you don’t get it. you don’t get him, and that frustrates you most of all. satoru can be so goddamn convoluted, sometimes.

so you simply can’t help but feel annoyed. angry, even. how long have you been arguing for, at this point? you’re not sure. but you feel the frustration inside of you grow, as the minutes tick by, into something you know will eventually explode.

a sigh falls from your lips, deep and exasperated. a little bit exhausted. “i’m serious, satoru. you’re not even listening.”

“i am!” he protests, stubbornly. childishly. “you just look so cute when you’re all mad. not my fault you’re so distracting.”

satoru smiles, voice sugar sweet, but all you can do is frown. does he really think it’s cute that you’re upset? the thought makes you somewhat sad. but you can’t show that, can’t let that part of you win — you don’t even want to think about the possibility of you crying, because of this. yeah, no way in hell. 

so instead, you channel it into anger. as the blood inside your veins comes to a boiling point, you dig your nails into the skin of your palms, gnawing at your bottom lip and shifting from one foot to another.

”satoru, i’m —” another sigh, sharp and vexed like the blade of a knife. ”i’m trying to have a serious conversation, here. can’t you see that i’m upset?”

satoru takes a moment to look at you, from behind the black glass of his shades.

he can. of course he can see that. you’re frowning, and there’s a crease between your brows, and you keep huffing and sighing every three seconds — you’re obviously, undoubtedly upset. and satoru wants to take you seriously, he does. it’s just that the part of his brain that only ever wants to coddle and tease you keeps persuading him not to.

he’s not lying, either; you do look cute. almost too cute to take seriously, when you’re pouting so sweetly, a little red in the face from all the frustration bubbling inside your chest. you look so small, glaring up at him like an angry puppy. 

satoru can’t help but smile. it’d be impossible not to.

and he will listen to you, will take you seriously. he knows you’re angry, knows you’re upset, and he intends to deal with that properly. but he doesn’t need to do it right now.

just a little more teasing, before he has to stop beating around the bush. satoru dreads it, a little bit, dreads having to genuinely be serious, be open and apologetic. it always feels so strange, so discomforting. 

all that stuff can wait until later. for now, he just wants to see you blush a little more, huff and puff at his limitless affection, that he knows you love deep down. where’s the harm?

(and therein lies the problem. satoru is observant, and typically good at seeing the line that he shouldn’t cross when it comes to you. but there are times when he slips up, times when he doesn’t realize that his words have begun to sting. times when the line becomes blurry, because he knows some part of you enjoys the way he babies you, and sometimes it blinds him to the part of you that doesn’t.)

satoru is smiling. it’s the same as always — big, bright, glazed over with honey-sweet adoration. smug and teasing. it’s such a satoru-like smile that it makes your breath hitch, sometimes, makes your heart race with wonder. but now all it does is annoy you. everything you love about satoru is annoying you, right now. 

in your eyes, that pretty smile of his seems almost taunting. like he’s trying to pick a fight with you, trying to make you even more upset. you don’t want to blow up over something like this, you really really don’t — but for some reason, you feel dangerously close to. it’s not like you at all.

you bore into his eyes with a cold glare, even though you can’t exactly see them with his shades in the way. posture straight and rigid as you try to make yourself look bigger. you must look at least a little bit menacing, like this. right?

“i’m seriously angry with you,” you say, hoping your voice sounds as austere to his ears as it does to yours. “don’t you get that?”

satoru coos, unable to hold the sound back. he doesn’t notice the flicker of hurt in your eyes, only focusing on how the sunset rays frame your figure, kissing your skin with sun-soaked fervor. you look so pretty. and that angry look on your face is too tantalizing not to tease.

“aww,” he croons, inching closer to you. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that you can’t see, unmistakably fond. “is my little baby that upset?”

you blink. his voice sounds even more sugar-sweet now, obviously exaggerated. there’s amusement there, too — like this is just one big joke to him. you think he must be doing it to belittle you, to embarrass you. speaking to you like you’re some kind of grumpy toddler, and not a grown adult trying to have a serious conversation with their partner. your blood boils, boils, boils.

— and so the cup overflows.

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

it’s almost in a hiss that the words fall from your lips, cold and harsh; they leave the confines of your throat before you have a chance to reconsider them, sudden and sickeningly heavy. crude, too. you’d never be so crass with him under normal circumstances.

but you’re overwhelmed, thoroughly and completely, and satoru is being particularly infuriating. you genuinely feel hurt by the way he’s disregarding your feelings, and that realization stings more than anything. 

so you can’t help but say the words, louder than you meant to, before turning on your heel swiftly and walking out of the room. 

you don’t even have time to register what you’re doing, legs moving on their own before your mind can catch up. brisk and heavy steps carry you to the door, all while you furiously attempt to blink away the tears of frustration that begin to form in your eyes.

it only takes a second for you to grab your jacket — then you’re out.

satoru hears the front door close, echoing off the walls of your apartment. you don’t quite slam it shut, but you close it with more force than usual, and he can’t help but inwardly wince.

a moment passes. 

then, he flops down on the couch, lanky arms and legs dangling uncomfortably off the edges. the groan that slips from his lips is muffled by the soft cushion as he burrows his face into it, while replaying your interaction inside his mind.

satoru can’t help but feel uncomfortable, with this conclusion. a little bit irked. a vague something rests inside his chest, something he doesn’t quite want to admit to feeling. it makes him feel a little bit sick.

(”oh, go fuck yourself.”)

he can’t recall you ever raising your voice at him like that. when it comes to him, you’re usually so patient; soft, understanding, gentle. for you to have snapped in such a way — to have stormed out of the apartment in your anger — he must have pushed you pretty far.

satoru sighs.

he really pissed you off, huh?

(he can never quite seem to get this right, can he?)

it was never his intention to make you genuinely mad. he just lost sight of the line, for a second. that’s all.

and maybe he was also trying to avoid the issue, trying to avoid actually arguing with you. because he hates it. he hates it more than anything. satoru would much rather see you smile and blush than act all serious and sad. 

he just wanted to make you laugh.

was it insensitive? yeah, probably. he just can’t help but fuck this up, it seems. now he’s gone and made you angry — and as much as the sight would usually thrill him, as cute as you look when you’re irritated, a pit of anxiety settles in his gut. everything just feels wrong.

more than anything, satoru feels restless. because, right now, there’s nothing he can do. he can’t chase after you, even if just to apologize — that’d make you even angrier.

he knows he needs to give you space. you were obviously overwhelmed; some fresh air will do you good.

it irks him, though. satoru wants to fix it. he always wants to fix everything, before it even breaks. and even now, all his mind can do is spin in circles, wondering how he could possibly cheer you up.

he’ll just have to apologize, when you get back. and hope you forgive him. maybe he can get you something sweet to munch on, or a bouquet of flowers. would that make everything okay again?

satoru doesn’t know. so he just scratches his head, and tries his damndest not to think of how defeated you looked before leaving.

your steps are heavy, dragging you forward, leading you somewhere you have no knowledge of. it’s chilly out, and the sun is already setting.

everything in the world feels so wrong. like it’s tilted slightly to the left, like the earth stopped spinning around its axis. like everything suddenly lost its saturation. 

you just needed to get away from him, for a while. away from that smug smile, that patronizing tilt of his voice. you couldn’t even stand to be in the same apartment as him. it’s not often you feel that way, not often at all. 

and it only increases your growing frustration. 

you are beginning to calm down, though — you know you are. the crisp evening air and the pleasant mingle of people soothes your muddled senses, smoothing down the crease of your brow and the ache in your chest.

a heavy discomfort, and a growing guilt. that’s all you can feel, as the anger slowly seeps out of you, turning into vapour with every exhale of your breath.

you hate arguing with satoru. you hate it more than anything. the guilt clawing at your chest barely leaves any room for anger — you almost yelled at him. just the thought of doing that to satoru makes you want to cry.

because you love him, at the end of the day, even when he’s being absolutely insufferable. he’s a sweetheart, your sweet boy, always trying to lighten the mood and make you smile. maybe you should have been a bit more understanding; you know satoru’s bad at this stuff, bad with emotions and vulnerability. and deep down, you know he’d never hurt you, not on purpose.

he probably just didn’t realize that you were genuinely upset. it’s a mistake that anyone could make.

but it just makes you feel so frustrated. like he’s not even looking at you. always hiding behind those shades, never opening up. never letting you see him wear anything but a smile. you want him to take it slow, open up to you at his own pace, but that doesn’t make the wait sting any less.

it’s not like you were asking for a lot. first, you simply asked him to pick up after himself. the way you do, the way anyone does. then, you simply asked him to treat you with respect.

a sudden pang of bitterness runs through your chest. sure, you could’ve handled it all better — but he could have, too.

every step you take hits the pavement with an irritated kind of decision. whatever. whatever. for now, you don’t want to think about it — all you want is to walk around and take in the sights, enjoy the peace and quiet.

so that’s exactly what you do.

before you know it, the sun has set, and the moon has risen — shining down and painting the streets in a mesmerizing blue, ephemeral and tranquil. it’s enough to give you some peace of mind, as you lurk around familiar streets, soaking in all the open space. so different from that suffocating apartment, and the man inside it, with that shit-eating grin and those breathtaking eyes.

(he’s called you, a couple times. you haven’t been gone for long — an hour or so, you think, maybe two. some part of you wanted to answer, just to hear his voice through the phone, but the part of you that’s still awfully irritated shut that down immediately. so, stubbornly, you just let it ring.)

the streets are empty, and the sky is dark. the light of all the lampposts illuminate your way, along with the soft flicker of the moon and stars. an endless galaxy stretches out before your eyes, little pale dots of stardust shining like jewels.

an ever-lasting, never-changing sky, that continues on for infinity. limitless. all the space you could possibly want, and then some.

for a moment, you can only look at the glittering stars in wonder, soaking in the feeling of absolute solitude. 

— it doesn’t last, though.

“you alone?”

a sudden voice calls out from behind you. close, discerningly so, enough to make you flinch. you curse yourself for not noticing anything sooner, caught up in looking at the starry sky, in angling your phone to take a picture of it.

hesitantly, you turn your gaze towards the sound — wincing under your breath when you see the man a couple steps away from you. he looks a little crazed, you think, shifting from foot to foot and hunching over. 

oh fuck no.

great, just what you needed. that’s just your luck, isn’t it? your brain can only spin in circles, trying to get your body to react, to run. to do literally anything except just stand there like a deer caught in headlights.

in your nervosity, all you manage is a painfully awkward laugh, as you stutter out a halfhearted response.

“oh — no, i’m just waiting for my boyfriend!” you smile, unconvincingly. your face must be soaked in unease. whatever he wants with you, it can’t be anything good.

at least you said that one word clearly — boyfriend. you can only hope it’s enough to scare him away.

but the man only shifts a little more, emitting a gruff kind of hum, not saying anything else. your spine tingles with apprehension. every cell in your body wants you to leave. he seems a little intoxicated, you think, and the thought only stirs the anxious feeling in your chest further.

god. why does this have to happen to you? why now?

thankfully, you’ve got your phone in hand. as your mind scrambles for solutions, your fingers tap at the screen, urgently scrolling through your contacts. in such a frightened state, your acting must be positively awful, but you make a vague attempt. not like you’re getting any oscars for this, either way.

“sorry — he’s calling me now!” you stammer out, taking a step away from the man. he doesn’t make a move to follow you, so you take your chances and press your phone to your ear, feet carrying you forward with haste.

in your fear, you don’t think twice about calling satoru — but you can’t help but internally wince at the decision, as the anxious patter of your own heart resounds in your ears.

how are you supposed to talk to him, exactly? what are you supposed to say? hey, i know i just told you to go fuck yourself, but will you hear me out? i need your help. 

and you do. you do need his help. all you want is for him to swoop in, to take you in his arms, your knight in shining armor.

satoru’s said it to you, before — that if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to him. that you can always, always lean on him, without exception. 

you know that he likes helping you. likes it when you open up to him, when you put your trust in him. when you aren’t afraid to ask for his help.

so despite everything, you hold your phone to your ear, walking away with brisk steps and praying that he’s not petty enough to ignore your call like you did to his.

back home, satoru is still resting on the couch, tapping his feet and trying to distract himself. 

he’s a little anxious. it’s dark out, and you’re not answering any of his calls. when you’re out of sight, like this, he can’t help but feel a little helpless — worried about everything that could happen to you. but it’s not like he can force you to pick up. 

you’re probably at a friend’s house, or something. telling them all about what an asshole your boyfriend is. as much as the thought stings, satoru hopes it’s true; it’s all he can comfort himself with. anything is fine as long as you aren’t out walking alone, in the cold, in the dark.

entirely caught up in his spiralling thoughts, satoru almost flinches when the phone rings. laying on the table in front of him, just within arm’s reach. it only takes a second for him to react as his gaze flits to the bright screen, and he sees the contact name, the many heart emojis littering it.

with a start, satoru jumps up. his back straightens out, and his hand flies to grab the phone — he’d feel embarrassed at his own eagerness, but right now he just can’t help it. even under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t let the phone ring more than twice, always giddy to hear your voice whenever possible. 

this time, however, he does falter slightly.

he takes a split second to simply stare at the phone in his hand, at the affectionate contact name. what is he supposed to say to you, exactly? how is he supposed to act?

satoru doesn’t know, but as if afraid that you’ll change your mind and stop the call, yourself, he opts to simply answer. he’ll just have to figure out what to say on the fly.

(unfortunately, satoru’s instinctual response to anything is either smugness or playfulness.)

“well, well. look who finally decided to pick up.”

you’re the one who called him, not the other way around — but satoru can’t be bothered with small details like that right now. he only hopes you don’t notice the faint nervosity in his voice, the stiffness as he tries to sound unbothered.

you don’t notice anything at all, mind far too muddled, too clouded by fear. all you can do is take a deep breath, desperately trying to grasp control over your wavering voice.

“— satoru?” you call out, voice meek and frail. the man in question notices it immediately, sitting up a little straighter, but before he can say anything you continue. “i’m sorry, i just — are — are you still at home?”

there’s an anxious tilt to your voice, one that’d be impossible for satoru to miss. your words are a little breathy, spoken in a fast tempo, and he feels a sudden dread crawl up his spine.

something is wrong, his senses alert him.

“yeah,” he hums, trying to hide the turmoil in his own voice. “why? is everything okay?”

the line is quiet, for a second. “it’s just —“ an exhale, as you once again attempt to steer your voice in a less nervous direction. “just… some creepy guy tried to talk to me. i told him i was waiting for my boyfriend and now i’m walking away from him but he’s still following me.” another exhale, as you worriedly sneak a glance over your shoulder. ”i just — i don’t know what to —”

“where are you?”

satoru cuts you off, voice eerily serious. his gaze turned cold the moment he heard creepy guy, legs moving him towards the coat rack by the front door as if on autopilot. 

he’s already left the apartment by the time you answer, looking around you meekly.

“i… don’t know,” you sigh. “i’m not far. i walked past that one crêpe stand by the park but then i, like… continued up that street? and now i don’t really know where i’m going.”

you continue, a little exasperated as your gaze flits around the dark street. attempting to recall your steps, a difficult task with how on edge you feel. “i’ll try to look for a sign, or something,” you gulp. “… i’m sorry. i just wanted to get away from him.”

satoru’s voice is comforting, when he speaks, eager to console you. grounding and soft. “hey, it’s okay. i’m heading there now, alright?” he smiles, hoping you’ll hear it in his voice. “i’ll be there before you know it.”

you do hear it, and his words ease a little of the anxiety in your chest, despite your fear. “okay.” 

the line grows quiet, again, and your brows furrow in worry. “can — can i keep talking to you?” you ask, uncertain. a little pitiful. ”please?”

“of course,” satoru answers, instantaneous. he’s already making his way towards the crêpe stand with decision in his steps, mentally scanning the area ahead. despite his own anxiety at the situation, he attempts to sound as secure as he can possibly manage, desperate to soothe the worry in your voice.

“try to relax for me, okay? nobody’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

his words are absolute, as he consoles you. he sounds so sure of himself, so much that you can’t help but believe in his words. so you nod, emitting a weak hum when you remember he can’t see you.

“can you tell me what you see, baby?”

“uhh…” you look around, blindly, trying to find some sort of meaningful hint around you. “there’s like… some toy shop?” 

satoru only hums. “can you check your location on your phone?” 

you blink. 

of course. why on earth didn’t that cross your mind before? 

“oh — yeah — fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i didn’t —“ you sigh, heavy. “hold on.”

following satoru’s instructions swiftly, your gaze scans over the screen. he waits, patiently, already heading past the park and up ahead. as soon as you succeed in finding the name of the street, you echo it to him.

satoru sighs, a little relieved. “okay,” he hums. “i’m not that far away. i’ll be there soon.” he only hopes his words can soothe your fear, even a little. “is he still following you?”

you glance behind you, and meet the gaze of the stranger. just like you were afraid of, he’s still following you — if anything, he seems to have gotten a little closer. with a jolt, your heartbeat picks up.

“yeah,” you gulp. 

satoru’s chest tightens. he emits a low hum. “just hold on. i’ll hurry.”

focusing only on the tilt of satoru’s voice, you try to calm your breathing. you just want to see him. the thought of doing so is the only thing keeping your trembling ribcage intact, at this point. 

you swallow a shaky breath.

“thanks, toru.”

a sudden pang of ache sprouts in satoru’s chest, like thorny vines curling around his ribcage. his heart hurts. you sound so scared, so very small. 

this is all his fault, he thinks. all of it. he got too careless; none of this would’ve happened if he had only been more considerate. if he had just stopped you from leaving and apologized, or hadn’t upset you in the first place. then he wouldn’t have to hear that scared little voice, wouldn’t have to imagine your body shaking like a leaf in the cold night. so far away from him. 

but satoru can’t beat himself up over it, not yet. there’ll be more than enough time for that later. for now, he needs to get to you — that’s the only thing on his mind.

so he lets his feet carry him forward, running towards your location with bated breath. he’s sure you can hear it, through the phone, even though he tries to contain it.

the sound consoles you, if anything. it reminds you that satoru is there, that he’s on his way. that there’s no need to be scared. 

but you can’t help but freak out, a little, when you hear the man call out from behind you.

“hey!” he slurs, stumbling towards you with unsteady steps. his voice is loud, angry, and it sends your mind reeling into panic mode.

a flinch overtakes your body, before you stumble forward, walking even faster than before. you’re almost running now, breath hitching as you gulp. satoru hears it all — your panic, the echo of the man. his own tempo picks up.

“baby, calm down, okay?” he consoles you, voice concerned and honey-sweet. “just keep walking. i’m almost there.”

“sorry —“ you squeak out, between flurry breaths. breathing uneven, laboured and anxious. but you try your best to calm down. “‘s just scary.”

it almost feels physical, the way it irks him. satoru wants to pull you close, more than anything, but he can’t. and that just makes the calamity inside his chest grow, clawing at his ribcage as if trying to escape, to go to your side. 

(he never, ever wants to hear that kind of fear in your voice again.)

“i know,” he soothes. “you’re doing good, honey. listen — he’s not gonna touch you. i won’t let him. you have nothing to be scared of.”

you nod, even as you exhale a shaky breath. ”i know.” 

and you do. you know there’s a truth, to satoru’s words, one that’s never failed you before.

because satoru is your safe space, at the end of the day — he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and sometimes he’s bad with emotions. but he tries, you know he does. and, more than anything else, you know that he’ll always, always be there when you need him. he’ll always be there to protect you. 

and a part of you is sure that everything will be okay, as long as he’s around.

(it’s easy to forget how trustworthy satoru really is, how much he cares. how dependable he is. and how serious he can get, when he truly needs to be, despite his childishness. it’s moments like these that remind you of that.)

but it’s still scary, at the end of the day. you can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a little lost in the world. because you and satoru just fought, you just told him to go fuck himself, and yet here he is. running to your side, in the middle of the night, because you’re scared and alone and you need him.

the man continues to shout, behind you, muttering curses you can’t quite make out. you look over your shoulder nervously, steps hurried.

and satoru runs like a man possessed, through the moonlit streets, gaze scanning the area like a wild beast. his most visceral instinct is screaming at him, tugging at his flesh and bones, desperate to protect you. to comfort you. to wash all your worries away. 

as he makes a sharp turn, he momentarily stops the movement, halting to look around. he thinks he must look a little crazed, with the moonlight illuminating his eyes, but he couldn’t care less.

especially not when his gaze lands on a certain person, further down the street — small and alone.

your eyes meet his.

with the darkness of the street, it’s hard to make anything out, but the light of the lamppost helps. though even without it, satoru’s sure he’d know it was you, just from the sensation that unfurls in his chest as his gaze lands on your figure. 

an audible sigh of immense relief falls from his lips, and his tense shoulders relax, eyes softening just a tad. he hears a similar noise coming from the phone in his grasp, and he assumes that means you recognize him too. not bothering to end the call, he puts it in his pocket, walking over to you with brisk steps. 

you stumble towards him, yourself, the worried crease between your brows now smoothed away. the closer he gets, the faster you move, until you can see the blue of his eyes. two pocket-sized moons.

satoru swoops you in for a hug before either of you can say anything.

he cradles you close, awfully close, so close you can hear his heavy breathing against your ear. it tickles your neck, along with his soft hair, and you shiver. his fragrance envelops your senses, a blend between fresh laundry, strawberries and some expensive cologne. your favorite scent in the world. 

and suddenly, the world is devoid of danger. nothing can get to you while satoru’s there. all that exists is you, and him, and the soft flicker of the moon.

satoru squeezes you tightly, ensuring himself over and over again that you’re safe. he might be squeezing you a little too tight, but he can’t bring himself to think about that just yet.

finally, that growing calamity inside his chest is satiated. winding down at the feeling of you pressed up against him, the indisputable proof that you’re okay. with you in his arms, satoru feels like everything is alright, again.

the fear inside his chest, so foreign it leaves him shaken to the very core, finally begins to dissipate too. he doesn’t think there’s anything that makes him feel quite as hopeless as the thought of not being there for you when you need him. he never wants to feel that fear again. it’s suffocating. it crushes his lungs.

all he can do is hold you close, his big palm smoothing down your hair, the back of your head, your spine. warm and comforting. keeping you steady against him. he can feel your heartbeat, rapid and anxious, so fast that his heart aches. satoru is eager to soothe you, eager to make it go away.

”i’m here, baby,” he breathes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. ”you’re safe now.”

the words are spoken softly, right by your ear, and you exhale a shaky breath. you’re bundling up his clothing with your fists, anchoring yourself to him. after a little while, you let go, opting to wrap your arms around his midriff instead. nuzzling into his broad chest, you try to blink away your tears and contain your sniffles.

you nod against him, and satoru kisses the crown of your head.

and, finally, his gaze strays. it falls farther down the street, until it lands on a certain man — shifting from one foot to another. watching you both in silence.

the calamity inside his chest rouses from its slumber, once more.

satoru makes sure to keep his hands on you, still rubbing your back with one steady palm cradling the back of your head. keeping your face hidden in his chest, safe and secure.

then he raises his head, back straight, full height on display as his eyes meet the stranger’s. he can tell they do, even with the distance, the darkness of the street.

and satoru knows he looks menacing. he knows the light of the lamppost illuminates his figure perfectly, framing his tall stature and broad shoulders. and he knows the moonlight caressing his skin illuminates his face, his cold eyes — blue and uncanny, glowing even brighter than the moon. staring daggers into the man’s soul. if looks could kill, there wouldn’t even be any remains left to find.

the man stiffens, visibly, and satoru delights in it. he doesn’t leave, though, and for a second satoru wonders if he’s really intoxicated enough to come closer — 

but, sure enough, all he does is stagger a little. then he walks away, grumbling under his breath, hands in his pockets.

and satoru isn’t satisfied, with this conclusion. not in the slightest. he wants to run up to the man, wants to hold him up by the throat, wants to tell him off. because he has the nerve to terrorize someone like that, stalk them with intentions he knows can’t be anything but revolting. the nerve to do that to you, of all the people in the world —

satoru doesn’t know if he’s hated anyone quite as much. 

and a part of him wants to make him cower. make him fear for his life, just to make sure he never does anything like this again. leave him with a fear so great it’ll linger for as long as he’s alive.

(and a more animalistic side of satoru, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge, wants to do things that are much, much worse.)

— but you come first. without question, and without exception. he refuses to leave you alone, and refuses to make you look at the man for even a second more. 

so he’ll focus on you, entirely.

he can tell you’re still shaken up, heartbeat pulsating against him, little flutters of life prickling his skin. there’s a desperation in the way you hug his waist, like he could disappear at any moment. like he’ll slip away if you don’t keep him close. the sight tugs at satoru’s heartstrings. 

his first priority is to soothe you, always and forever. so that’s exactly what he does.

satoru smiles. it’s small, in the wake of the situation, but awfully sincere. fingers reaching down to trace over your jaw, he gently urges you to look at him; when you do so, hesitant, he cups your cheek with his palm.

your teary eyes feel like daggers to his heart, an unmistakable proof of his failure. his failure to protect you, to keep you safe and happy. but at the same time, he’s glad, from the bottom of his heart — that you’d let him see you like this. even after everything.

you look very meek, blinking the tears away as you look into his eyes. they’re bright, and comforting. you wonder if he left the shades at home, if he rushed over here so hurriedly that he didn’t think to bring them with him. you’re happy, in any case — the effect they have on you is undeniable. 

you can’t bring yourself to look away, consoled by the flickers of white inside his irises, like fluffy clouds in the blue sky. ever-lasting, never-changing.

satoru tilts his head, smile sweet and understanding. ”that was scary, hm?” 

his voice is tender, somehow so mature. like he’s some older, wiser being, comforting a scared child. it’s so soothing, so very grounding.

squeezing your eyes shut, you can only bring yourself to nod, as you nuzzle back into his chest.

”you’re okay now, honey,” satoru coos, smoothing down your back as you sniffle. an immense softness seeps through his whisper. ”i’ll always be here to protect you.”

there’s a truth to the statement, heavy and pious. like an oath, a pledge, something for you to believe in unquestioningly. you allow yourself to soak in the words, knowing them to be true.

you’re safe, now. there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. satoru’s here, and he’s hugging you, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

but you just can’t stop crying.

when you speak up, your voice is weak, barely above a whisper. close to breaking apart at the seams. too tired after everything to resist the guilt inside your veins, you sniffle, and part your lips.

”i’m sorry i yelled at you.”

satoru stills.

then, his gaze softens, considerably. he hears himself coo, softly, palm smoothing down the back of your head. 

his sweet angel. apologizing to him, when he’s the one who started this whole mess. when you’re still so shaken up. because he let you leave the house angry, because he made you angry in the first place. because he didn’t see how important the discussion was to you.

(“you’re not even listening.”)

yeah. he wasn’t. he didn’t really want to.

an acute sense of shame. an intense guilt. that’s what he’s been trying to push down, all this time. that’s the unnamed something. 

it’s hard for him. to be as sincere as you, as open with his feelings and emotions. as mature. because even in a situation like this, you can swallow your pride and frustration, and apologize. even when you aren’t in the wrong. you’re always the bigger person, always the one to give in first, because he’s too stubborn to do so himself.

next time, satoru pledges, he won’t let you. next time he’ll be the one to swallow his pride.

because, yes, being vulnerable and admitting that he was in the wrong makes him feel a little like he’s being skewered alive — but you’re important to him. he loves you. and he wants you to know how much he trusts you, how special you truly are. 

if he can show you that, by being a little sincere, a little serious, then any discomfort he feels in the process is a small price to pay.

satoru’s lips meet the crown of your head, as he encircles your smaller frame, arms reaching around your neck to pull you close. he rests his jaw lightly on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. ”you have nothing to apologize for, baby.”

a pause lingers between the words he’s already said and the ones he yearns to say, but can’t seem to pull out from within his throat. it takes effort, to squeeze them out; but every time he replays your own apology in his mind, it gets a little easier. he squeezes you lightly before opening his mouth, as if to give him strenght.

“i’m sorry.”

you blink. 

for once, satoru sounds sincere when he apologizes — almost painfully so. bordering on something you think may be nervosity. you try to look up, to catch a glimpse of his expression, but he keeps you hidden in the crook of his neck.

”i was being immature,” he continues, sighing. you don’t know if you’ve ever heard satoru sound so uncomfortable. ”you know how bad i am with this stuff. but i never want to — you know.” 

he makes a gesture with one of his hands, as if that will say the words for him.

“— i didn’t mean to upset you. honestly.” satoru inhales the cold air, in hopes it’ll make him more honest. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you listen. intently, not missing a word, not a single tilt of his voice. it all sounds so genuine, almost foreign on his tongue. satoru seems to be trying to find the right words, grumbling a little under his breath. 

he’s cute, like this. kind of awkward, but that only makes him cuter. you nuzzle closer to him, comforted by his very existence.

”… i’ll work on it,” he whispers, at last. “i’ll listen to you. i promise. i really, really will.” 

you think satoru’s voice wavers, just a little, when he says his final piece. 

“so please don’t cry.”

this time, satoru doesn’t stop you when you attempt to lift your gaze, loosening his arms around you and raising his head from where it rests on top of yours. 

your eyes meet. satoru is smiling, weakly. he tilts his head, looking at you with something you could only ever describe as love.

”okay?”

such a lovely smile. so painfully genuine. his eyes are on full display, shining in the dark of the night, like splotches of moonlight. like someone stole the moon down to earth, and carved out little pieces to put in his irises. an ethereal hue.

he’s so gorgeous. hair just a tad messy, tousled from all the running he did to get here. cheeks a little red from the cold. when he smiles, his eyes crinkle. but he looks almost pained. 

(he was so, so worried.)

blinking away the tears clinging to your lashes, you simply stare, entirely mesmerized by the sight. satoru’s thumb goes to wipe at your glassy eyes, smoothing away the drops that threaten to fall. you want to engrave his expression into your memory, so you can never forget it. but it’s just a little too much.

so you hide in his chest, once more. the word that falls from your lips is tiny. “okay.”

satoru smiles, kissing the top of your head with a relieved exhale. bathing in your presence, still reeling from his show of vulnerability. he feels a little like he just cut himself open, let you peek inside his ribcage. the night air stings his skin. 

but you’re so warm, hugging him tightly, breathing and heartbeat finally relaxed. 

(he doesn’t mind it, not if it’s you — having you look inside his chest. if you asked, he’d let you build a shelter there. right between his fourth and fifth ribs.)

now that the words are out of his throat, they don’t burn at all. satoru feels a little silly, for being so scared to say them out loud. he knows you’d never use them against him.

all you do is snuggle closer, as if silently conveying your forgiveness.

you stand there for just a little while longer, wallowing in the tender atmosphere. finally, satoru makes a move to leave, and you begin to walk back home.

“sure you’re okay now, baby?”

you nod, exhaling a flurry breath. it turns into vapour in the cold of the air, drifting up and dissipating in the expanding starry sky. “yeah. thanks for coming so quickly.”

“of course,” satoru only says, choking back a yawn. 

your hands are intertwined, and he’s halfheartedly swinging them back and forth. it soothes your anxiety, and satoru’s protective instincts. you know neither of you will slip away, like this.

you shiver a little, subconsciously inching closer to satoru to protect you from the harsh bite of the midnight breeze. he notices, giving you a glance and a tilt of his head. “you cold?” 

“just a little,” you mutter, smiling weakly as you look up at him. ”i’m fine.”

satoru huffs. did you really think he’d be dissuaded by such a weak retort? there’s no way he’s letting you walk around all cold and shivering. 

so you come to a standstill, as satoru begins to shrug off his coat. he refuses to let go of your hand for even a second, making the process slower than usual — your heart flutters a little, as his fingers curl around yours, delicately. 

when he finally gets it off him, he wastes no time in draping it over your shoulders. it’s big on you, warm and soft, shielding you from the chilly air. satoru can’t help but giggle sheepishly, as he always does at the sight — you look so cute. 

“c’mon. let’s go home,” he grins, ruffling your hair teasingly.

satoru doesn’t feel cold, not in the slightest, as he holds your hand tightly. just your presence is enough to warm his bones to the marrow.

the silence between you is comforting and soothing, as you continue to walk. hand in hand, admiring the starry sky. you’re both too tired to speak — but satoru does so, anyway.

“i meant it, y’know.” satoru sounds sleepy, but earnest. ”i really will work on it.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it, yawning softly and stretching his free arm. gaze fixed on the morning star. 

“oh.” you pause, squirming a little. sheepish. “thank you. i’m sorry that i — i mean.” a sigh. “i probably overreacted a little.”

satoru shakes his head, waving off your guilt. “nah. you’re right. i never want you to feel like i’m not taking you seriously.”

his gaze meets yours, tentatively. his eyes shine like wedding rings. “you mean a lot to me.”

the sincere words manifest themselves as a heavy pressure to your chest, closing in on your heart as if crushing it. it’s a pleasant sensation, though, overwhelming as it is. you’re a little scared that your knees will buckle if he keeps this up, but even if they do, you wouldn’t want him to stop — satoru’s love is terrifically overwhelming when there’s nothing to hide it, when it’s just love and nothing else.

but you’d never reject it. you’d let it crush you to death with a smile on your face.

all you can do is avert your gaze, afraid that you’ll fall into the blue sea of his eyes if you don’t. heavy thumps of blood resound in your ears as your heart beats, warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

“… you mean a lot to me, too.” you echo, holding his hand just a little tighter. warmth rises to your cheeks. “i just felt really frustrated, i guess. like you were looking down on me. i know you weren’t actually, though.”

satoru chews at the inside of his cheek, almost anxiously. “i know i can be a little much sometimes,” he says, tasting the words on his tongue. “and i appreciate you for putting up with that. i’m sorry i let it go too far. i’ll be more considerate.”

your heart stutters in your chest. you’re not sure what to say — the way he forms his words makes them feel so absolute. and you believe him.

“i’ll be more considerate, too,” you echo, looking down at the pavement. “i shouldn’t have blown up like that.” a pause. you mumble, quietly, a little embarrassed. “i shouldn’t have told you to go fuck yourself.”

satoru breathes out an amused huff, chuckling lightheartedly. his eyes carry a teasing glint when they meet yours. “i probably deserved that. no worries.”

“still,” you pout. satoru giggles. 

“we’ll both work on it, then,” he hums, tilting his head to find your gaze. “right?”

you blink. a small smile breaks out across your face. “right.”

satoru swings your hands back and forth, looking awfully happy with himself. you’re proud of him. really.

“oh —“ he says, breaking the sleepy silence once again. “and i’ll stop leaving wrappers around, too.”

this time, you’re the one who huffs out an amused breath. “thank you,” you grin, looking up at him. he thinks the sight is terribly precious.

a yawn leaves your lips, drowsiness sneaking its way into your bloodstream. you’re not sure if it’s due to the dark, or if you’re just a tad exhausted after all the arguing and panicking.

satoru notices, and gets an idea.

“you tired, baby?” he coos, eyes teasing but soft around the edges. “d’you want a piggyback ride?” 

when you give him a look, sleepy and kind of exasperated, satoru grins. you huff out an amused breath, just a tad embarrassed, but it only spurs him on.

so he crouches down, one knee meeting the pavement, letting your hand slip from his. you blink, tiredly, at the loss of contact. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s wearing that lovesick, smug little grin of his. 

”c’mon. your big, strong boyfriend’ll carry you.”

satoru’s feeling playful, you can tell. that’s usually a bad sign — but you can’t deny that you’re tired. and the prospect of getting carried all the way home is eerily tempting. 

your gaze falls on his back, and his broad shoulders. silently, you walk towards him, and wrap your arms around his neck. satoru holds you up by your thighs, and then stands up, jostling you a little; he does so without a hitch, and you’re reminded of how strong he really is. his grip is secure, and you trust him not to drop you, no matter what. 

you let out a content sigh, basking in the chill of the midnight air as you nuzzle your cheek against his soft hair. satoru chuckles.

”my sleepy lil’ sweetheart,” he coos, voice a tad raspy. ”lucky thing you’ve got me, huh?”

there’s a softness to his voice, despite the teasing tilt obscuring it. you can only huff out a breath, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and cling to him tighter.

satoru will get you home safe. he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and he can be bad with emotions — but you can always, always trust him on that. 

so, with his coat shielding you from the chilly air, and his back warming you up as he carries you back to your apartment, you allow your eyes to flutter shut; enjoying the cozy feeling his presence brings you.

he’ll always be there when you need him.

[moonstruckme]

Hi, I absolutely love your writing and i’d thought i’d try to request a remus lupin x reader kinda hurt comfort fic or blurb? Reader comes from a dysfunctional family where her dads alway angry and she feels like she’s walking on egg shells when around him and her mom throws all responsibilities like taking care of younger sibling onto reader so they always feel like they aren’t doing enough and they kind of cary these traits into their relationship with remus? maybe remus comes home from a hard day at work and reader can immediately sense he’s in a bad mood and like gets really quiet and starts working on the house instead of spending time with him bc she thinks he will be mad or something

This was way longer than i intended it to be im sorry😭 and I totally understand if this was too much or a topic that you don’t wanna write about there is no pressure at all!!!

love ya! -anon

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: implied past harmful/abusive dynamics

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 849 words

If the sharp turn of his key in the lock didn’t tip you off to Remus’ mood, the way he shuts the door behind him would. Automatically, your mind starts whirring with the things you can do. 

Your boyfriend has barely taken his shoes off before you’re in the kitchen, unloading the overfull dish rack. You’ve no idea how you let it go this long; some of these things have been dry for days. You’re shutting drawers and cabinets as softly as you can, wary of worsening Remus’ irritation with a racket. 

“Hey.” He pads into the kitchen, reaching for you. 

“Hi.” You smile and give him a kiss. His hands start to come around your waist, but you pull away in favor of grabbing a pot from the rack. 

“What’re you up to?” he asks. The exhaustion in his voice has a terse edge that makes your fingertips crackle with nervous energy. 

“Just tidying a bit.” 

“Want some help?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” you reply in your most serene voice. “You’ve only just got home, why don’t you relax?” 

Remus hesitates a handful of moments, watching as you go back to whizzing about the kitchen before wordlessly retreating to the living room. 

Once the dish rack is empty, you decide to start filling it up again. There’s an unwashed pot on the stove, an old container of leftovers in the fridge, and a handful of dishes on the coffee table. You make yourself as scarce as you can when you go to retrieve the last. Remus is still emanating traces of a worn-thin temper from where he sits on the couch, reading his book, and you try to minimize the clatter of the dishes as you stack them. When there’s a sigh, you try even harder. 

“Would you stop for a second?” 

You freeze in your tracks. “Stop what?” 

“Just,” he shakes his head, frustrated, “put the dishes down.”

You obey wordlessly. 

Remus looks at you with something you can’t decipher in his expression. “Now would you come here, please?” 

You walk over to him, tensing for—you don’t know what. You don’t think Remus would hit you, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to shout. You’re stiff with anticipation nonetheless. 

He reaches for you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, slotting against him naturally, the way you always do. Remus presses both palms into your back, hugging you tighter than usual but not enough to hurt. 

He nuzzles his face into your neck. “What’s going on with you?” he asks, and he sounds like the soft, grumbly version of himself that tells you to stop fidgeting at 4 a.m. before trapping you in his hold. You start to relax. 

“You seem like you’ve had a hard day,” you say. Not quite an admittance, but close. 

“I have,” Remus agrees. “I was hoping to come home and relax with you. Maybe have a kiss if you were feeling generous.” His teasing comforts you further, and you don’t flinch when he adjusts his hold so he can look you in the eyes. “Are you being weird because you know I’m in a bad mood?” 

When he puts it like that it sounds so silly. This is how you’ve learned to be around hot tempers, quiet and useful, but of course Remus would want someone to console him. To be with him instead of hiding away. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out. Your hands smooth over his shoulders, a belated comfort. 

He sighs, and this time when you hear the frustration in the sound you know it’s not meant for you. Remus takes your face in both hands, pressing a firm kiss to your brow before resting his own against it. 

“Nobody’s angry with you,” he says softly. 

“I know,” you reply just as quietly. “If I think about it, I know you wouldn’t be. It’s just…” 

“Old habits die hard?” he guesses. There’s a wry twist to his tone. 

You hum apologetically. 

Remus lets his cheek slide along yours, pulling you in for another hug. This one is gentler, his hand running the length of your back and squeezing in all the right places. “It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I’m sorry I came home so cross, sweetheart. I never want to worry you.” 

“I like to worry about you a little,” you tease, and you can sense the reward of your boyfriend’s smile spreading unwillingly over your shoulder. “And it’s not fair to expect you not to have any bad feelings around me. That’s just normal.”

Remus hums thoughtfully. “What if we try this: when you’re feeling like I’m upset, you just say something and we’ll talk about whether it has anything to do with you. Do you think that would work for you?” 

You turn your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder. Remus’ palm cruises down the curve of your spine as you let out a breath. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks.” 

“Thank you, lovely.” He tucks his chin to skim a kiss over your temple. “This is just what I needed. I feel better already.”

[yuff7e]

🪼⋆. inosuke with a strong gf headcanons !! .ೃ࿔*:･. + small fic / female reader

the cuties song -> www.spotify.com

- you being strong was one of the main reasons he began to like you let’s be real

- he thought you were really pretty too, but it didn’t occur to him that he actually liked you until like.. a month of tanjiro and zenitsu noticing his attitude changing towards you

- he had to be sat down by t & z and they told him basically that he liked you and he was like “oh yeah!! let me go tell her!!”

- practically zooming to go confess to you but t & z stopped him so fast

- they told him he couldn’t just confess to you like that, he had basically just realized his feelings for you

- before he did, he was treating you the same.

- making fun of you if you lost, challenging you, etc.

- they told him to take things slow and see how you react to him being more kind to you

- he immediately got defensive and was all like “what do you mean i’m not nice to her?! im nice to everyone!! raaaAAAAAHHGGGGGG!!”

- okay so he stfu and started to actually treat you well from then on out

- he was actually doing quite well with his behavior and genuinely taking his time with you, but it’s like he couldn’t read you and he would get frustrated

- sprinting towards tanjiro & zenitsu at every point in the day explaining to them what he did and if it was appropriate

- them congratulating him if he did something good but telling him off if he did something bad

- like one time he was training with you and got way too aggressive and threw you over his head and crushed you into the dirt

- it’s not like it hurt you, you were strong so you just stood up and brushed it off but you weren’t too happy he did that so you gave him the cold shoulder the rest of the training and went to go train with someone else

- you reacting like that made him angry at first because he didn’t understand what he did wrong, you’re strong why are you acting like a baby about it?

- until t & z were basically like “she probably likes you, and getting thrown around by a boy she likes probably isn’t flattering to her at all!”

- he straightened up completely after that

- he would go into the forest late at night and look at different rocks that reminded him of you and put them in a sack

- the next morning you still weren’t talking to him so he came up to you whenever everyone was off doing their own thing

- “hey [name], sorry about yesterday. i got you these cool rocks instead!”

- holding up the sack of rocks proudly like the goober he is

- you grin and take the sack and open it up to see all of the pretty crystal-like rocks. they were nice and you forgave him :)

- he was so HAPPY

- doing that weird gawking thing he does when you’re looking at the rocks

- afterwards you ask if he wants to train with you and he accepts immediately, t & z sees yall training and gives him a small thumbs up before running off to do random stuff

- leaving you two alone

- you and him train quite well together when no one else is looking

- inosuke is actually enjoying himself without being aggressive and really wants to tell you he likes you now

- while you aren’t looking, he wants to run to tanjiro or zenitsu and ask them if it’s the right time but he stands frozen as you turn back around and look at him

- “are you alright, inosuke-chan?”

- “yeah! i’m fine! what about it?!”

- he gets super flustered but he’s still frozen in place

- he can’t stop himself, he really needs to tell you !!!!

—

“inosuke-chan .. are you alright?” you cock your head at his flustered state, giggling. “wh— yeah! i’m fine! what about it?!” he shouts, quickly snapped out of the trance he was in. he could feel his face burning underneath the boar mask he was wearing.

“you just seem, a little bit nervous is all.” you reply, gently picking up your sword once more. “i’m not nervous! why do you think i’m nervous?!” “well, maybe because you’re shouting.” you giggle again at his silly demeanor, he really was cute.

“it’s nothin’ … it’s just…” he freezes again, stiffening up as you stare at him intently. he knew you couldn’t see his face, he swallows hard. “it’s just..?” you try to continue his sentence and prod at him to finish, you watch him as he takes a stiff step closer to you.

he grumbles a little, before you see him grab his boar mask and gently pick it up over his head - exposing his (quite attractive) face. “oh! hello.” you grin at him and you notice the pink that had flushed his cheeks. playful banter was not unfamiliar in yalls relationship, but right now he seemed as serious as ever.

“i need to tell you somethin’ .. and you gotta promise you won’t laugh at me! or you’ll be dead!” you’re shocked a little at his tone and choice of words, but you brush it off and nod firmly at him as he continues. “i…” he groans embarrassingly as he shouts his final statement.

“i like you [name]!! you’re really cool!! and i want you to be my girlfriend right now!!”

your face burns at his confession, you drop your sword as you stare at him - lips parted gently. “you really mean that..?” you bring a hand up to your mouth as you take a step away from him. he watches your demeanor and he fears he must’ve done something wrong, why are you stepping away from him?

“yeah!! why? was that bad?” “no.. i.. i really like you too, inosuke-sama.. you’re, very talented.” the blush on his face has expanded by 10x and his ears are as red as strawberries once he hears your words. before he could reply mitsuri comes running up to you with tanjiro and zenitsu following behind.

tanjiro notices you and inosuke’s flushed faces and he realizes inosuke might’ve told you, he flashes inosuke a small smile signaling that he’s done the right thing and then focuses his attention back on mitsuri and you. zenitsu does the same.

mitsuri started to tell you about the training she’s teaching and how she needs you in there, so you must leave the boys alone to go with mitsuri. giving a quick side glance and smile at inosuke before leaving.

inosuke watches you as you walk off, tanjiro and zenitsu stay behind to talk with inosuke and what had happened. inosuke tells them everything frantically, moving his arms around as he speaks. they asked if you had accepted him, and he told them you hadn’t given him a full answer besides that you like him too.

they both smiled at him and told him that that was good, but that he has to get an official response from you that you’d like to date him. he gets a little irritated but eventually accepts, creating a plan to ask you again later. (and more appropriately this time)

—

once mitsuri’s training had ended you left her room along with the little girls trailing beside you, you quickly noticed inosuke down the hallway. he looked to be more clean from the training but was still wearing his casual attire. once he notices you’ve walked out of the room he makes his way towards you.

“hey [name]! i need to talk to you again.” you smile at his words and begin to follow him outside, where you both hop onto the roof of the ubuyashiki mansion. “yes..?” you shyly ask, sitting down beside him on the roof overlooking the forest ahead of you.

“i asked you the question earlier today but you never responded! so i must ask you again!” he shouts in your ear, stunned by his loud demeanor you place a hand on his arm to shush him and he immediately does. gawking at the physical touch before continuing more quietly.

“will you be my girlfriend [name]? i swear to treat you better than any boy here! i will be the best for you!” he confesses passionately, grabbing ahold of one of your hands.

you giggle and bring a hand up to your face to push your hair away before shyly looking back up at him, “i accept your proposal, inosuke-chan.. you’re quite the mess, but i can fix you up into shape in no time!” you laugh and cup both of his hands in your own and you can tell he’s smiling as the conversation continues.

once you both have finished your conversation on the roof, you’re signaled to go to bed. you both gently jump off the roof together and you grab ahold of his arm and walk in with him. he walks you to your room and you let go of him tiredly, he continues towards his after watching you go and explains the whole thing to tanjiro and zenitsu.

they cheer him on for officially swooping you off of your feet and charming you into another dimension, they celebrate by playing games together and nezuko watches intently as they do. eventually they all fall asleep and from then on out inosuke hashibira was now your boyfriend.

—

- now that you two are dating he makes it extremely obvious that you’re his

- but if you do that with him he gets sooo flustered

- “babe! stop that!”

- he’s like the kind of bf to be like “stooop im infront of my friends babe…!!”

- please don’t blame him for being different around you when he’s with tanjiro and zenitsu, he’s just a feral boy that wants to look cool

- but truly he loves you so much and you’re the only person he’d ever show his true emotions to

- you’re the person he crawls towards when he’s upset and when you lay his head down in your lap he’s melting under your touch

- he craves physical affection, words of affirmation, and gift giving sb

- give him everything please, he really needs you sometimes

- he does pretty well on his own, but he’s been on his own his whole life and he’s been waiting for someone like you even when he didn’t know it yet

- so back to where i said he makes sure to let everyone know you’re his

- what i mean by that is he’ll pick you up during training and sling you over his shoulder and jump around if either you or he wins a warmup

- “haha! you did it babe! you kicked the shit out of them! good job!”

- orrr

- “did you see that babe?! i was so cool! you better have been watching!”

- he likes it when you hold his arm but he moves them around so much he might accidently hit you !!

- he apologizes if he does though, he’d never hit you or hurt you in any way

- and if he did on accident he would immediately apologize and genuinely get so upset with himself

- he cares for you SO much it’s crazy, especially if you two have been together for a while afterwards

- he loves you to the moon and back and wouldn’t change anything about it, he’s still learning to love “properly” but he does well enough with you.

—

yay that’s it !! i love inosuke with alllll my heart, he’s the cutest !! lmk if u guys want more demon slayer fics !!

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN !!!!!

[pupkashi]

love comes easy when it’s gojo

a/n: what are you guys talking about chapter 236 ? the manga ended a while ago lol they’re all happy and safe ! don’t be silly guys >.< (I’m deep in denial no one hmu)

wordcount: 728

masterlist

loving satoru gojo was easy.

it was easy falling in love with him when you first began talking to him, stolen glances and flushed faces when either of you caught the other.

it came to you like second nature to play along with his jokes. your minds practically syncing up the second your eyes connected, silly grins on your faces as you both cracked dumb jokes.

there was something almost instinctive that had you intertwining your fingers with his, the tv on the show now background noise as satoru practically lay on top of you.

“what should we get for dinner?” you mumbled, half paying attention to the action on the screen, eyes landing on the mop of white hair in your lap.

satoru hummed, adjusting himself so that he was on his back and staring up at you, “want me to cook?” there was a smile playing on his lips as you pursed your lips at him.

“depends” you smile, “what is chef gojo gonna cook up for us tonight?” the smile on his face was evident now as he sat upright.

“maybe some instant ramen?” eyes glimmering as he speaks up again, “im feeling a bit fancy so how ‘bout i add an egg in there too.”

“an egg? you spoil me satoru,” you tease, watching as satoru pushes himself off the couch, stretching a bit. the bottom of his shirt lifts a bit and you catch his lower belly, smiling to yourself.

“oh but when you bend over i can’t whistle at you?” he pouts, catching the way you were practically giggling.

“satoru we were in a meeting with the higher ups,” you retort. the sorcerer only scoffs, mumbling something and heading into the kitchen.

it was easy to love satoru when he was carrying you out in the pouring rain, a cheesy love song blaring through his phone speakers in his pocket.

“dance with me!” his dimples peeking out and his eyes crinkling a bit as he laughed at your now soaked shirt.

you want to be angry, you want to scold him because he just got over the flu and this is gonna be terrible for him. but the small droplets of water collecting at the end of his white hair and sticking messily to his forehead make you keep your mouth shut.

you don’t say anything as you extend your arm out, giggling when he quickly pulls you into him by the waist, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, teeth hitting each other as the two of you burst into giggles.

“cyndi lauper is your go to?” you laugh, barely audible over the downpour surrounding the two of you.

“it was either her or whitney houston ” he smiles, turning his infinity on when he sees you shiver in the slightest, being sure to include you in it.

it was easy loving satoru gojo when he was shampooing your hair, kissing your shoulder and wrapping warm towels around you.

it was easy to fall deeper in love with him when the two of you are in bed, sweet nothings being interchanged between the two of you.

“i love you, angel boy,” you whisper, loving the way his cheeks grew pink, the grin on his lips growing as he nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck.

“i love you more, sweets” his voice is softer, more vulnerable, than usual. there’s nothing on his mind except you, and there’s nothing on yours except him.

it’s when the two of you are making breakfast together, movements flowing easily as he passes you the eggs and he plates the pancakes. when you’re both sitting way too close to each other on the huge couch in the living room, pillows and blankets surrounding the two of you.

when you hand each other things without even uttering a word. when you sit in rare silence with your lover, the comfort of each others presence being enough for the two of you.

when he’s bringing home flowers or you’re making him his favorite foods, when you’re blushing at his shower of compliments and he’s running away the second you call him handsome.

it’s in between laundry loads and making plans that you both realize how easy love comes to each other.

loving satoru gojo was easy, especially when you fell in love with him all over everyday.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[i-starcreamed]

Okay here's a oneshot idea: Tf One Darkwing x Female Cybertronian Miner Reader. He tries to do his usual angry act with her but she thinks he's cute when he's angry. Flustered Darkwing time maybe? IDK i feel like im the only one who thinks he's kinda cute and silly lmao

DARKWING X READER

Oh my god thank you anon, you’re definitely not the only one who thinks so…I love him. He’s such a bully but I love him I think. Sorry this is short, I def have to write more for him :3 ps there's like no HD pics of him

cybertronian!reader no spoilers, fake scenario. loser flustered Darkwing

“MINER Y/N. Reports say you’ve been slacking off for the past three days again…WHY?!”

Darkwing bellowed, squaring his massive beautiful frame to tower over you. Not that he needed to—he was already bigger than any miner bot around. Way to rub it in.

This was the second time you’d been called in for a little chat with him this month, and by the way, he called you out by the full name in front of everyone else. Who does that? Despite being slightly annoyed, you had a smug smile plastered on your faceplate.

You casually leaned against the wall behind you, shrugging lazily. “Dunno. I don’t really feel like mining,” You deadpanned.

You weren’t lying, your frame has been extra sore for weeks. Honestly, a break sounded great right about now.

Darkwing let out that little, irritated growl he always did when bots got under his plating. His servos clenched in the air, digits flexing as if he was physically holding back his frustration. If he could, he looked like he could rip out his own helm. He stomped closer, jabbing a metal digit in your face.

"WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! GO. GET BACK TO W-"

"Hey Darkwing," You interrupted smoothly, not budging an inch as you looked up at him with a playful grin.

"You know, you're a bit cute when you're mad at me like this."

Darkwing froze mid-rant, lowering his servos. "What?" He sputtered, reeling his helm back in confusion.

That tough facade of his? CRUMBLING before your very optics.

"I'm not..IM NOT CUTE!"

His voice hitched, his fists dropping to his sides, clenched tight as he glared through his visor. Your grin only grew.

"SOMETHING IS CLEARLY WRONG WITH YOU!"

You rolled your optics.

"Yeah, yeah. Something’s definitely wrong with me if I think you are adorable. You could help me out, though. Maybe working overtime with you would fix my… problem." You slyly added, holding your servo to him.

He took a step back, grumbling under his breath. If his fists curled into themselves even tighter, he might leave an indent in his own servo.

"Stop that...uh, GET BACK TO WORK!"

"Whatever you say, boss."

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

ji changmin x gn!reader

1.3k words, est. relationship au, hurt/comfort, minor fluff but more angst?, a bit of silliness, mentions of work pressures, neck kisses, intimacy, mentions of playful biting, pretty much not beta'd or proofread (past my bedtime; written in an hour)

a/n: @kimsohn saw some of the goofiness first <3 ily (*breathes in deeply* idk what im doing guys. anyways, this belongs in the category labeled "i get yappy and sappy when im existentially exhausted")

In the dark, the clock on top of the oven screamed “3:22AM” in angry, red light. You stumbled past it, vision blurry and footsteps as quiet as you could make them against the hardwood. Your bones ached to the marrow and you could feel the blood throbbing violently in your skull; you could not sleep.

It had been three hours of tossing and turning before you completely gave up and slipped out into the kitchen. Usually, it wasn't too difficult for you to fall asleep, but alas, there would always be exceptions.

You managed to find the opened bag of tangerines on the kitchen counter, the orange, wiry mesh already torn from the last person who'd grabbed one to snack on. As your eyes grew accustomed to the dark, you dug your nail into its skin and began to peel it open.

Through your daze, you just barely registered the sound of the bedroom door opening—footsteps followed after and came closer; they weren't trying to stay quiet like you were, as there wasn't any reason to anymore. Hands patted you down from your shoulders to your arms until they could settle comfortably around your waist; his body slid flush against your back like a puzzle piece, still warm from being in bed. Hair tickled the underside of your jaw as he nestled his chin into the crook of your shoulder, the ghost of his breath fanning across your skin like a caress, relieved.

“Did I wake you?” You murmured, forcing yourself awake a little as you felt him lean more of his weight against you.

A low hum. “Bed got cold.”

The corners of your mouth tilted upward as you stuck a piece of fruit into your mouth—it was summer; the bed couldn't have been cold. Juice spilled over your tongue in a comfortingly sweet tang, and you went for another. “Sorry, love. Do you want some?” You asked, holding onto a piece of tangerine.

“Mm-mm,” Changmin hummed, shaking his head with a slight movement. You felt his arms give your body a squeeze. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice small.

You shoveled the remainder of the tangerine half into your mouth, hands reaching for another one to keep yourself busy as you chewed, then swallowed. “Tired.”

“Is it the thing?”

Just the thought of the thing—the project you were given charge of at work—made you wish the ground would swallow you up. Your hands stilled on the orange.

The project was the first you were given a manager role for, as they thought it appropriate because you came up with the idea, but it seemed to only be an excuse to overload you with every Herculean task they could think of. You were practically chained to your cubicle desk until day's end, only leaving to go to the bathroom and attend another god forsaken meeting. Where home was supposed to be for rest, you were often slumped over the dining table, stressing yourself silver.

The thought of Monday… no, you couldn't think of Monday. You'd gone so long working on this thing—how could they make you loathe an idea that you proposed?

At your lack of an answer, there came a small breath against your neck. His thumb gently rubbed your side back and forth, the ebb and flow of the tide. “I'm sorry, baby. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm proud of you.”

“It does mean something,” you countered quietly, and moved one of your hands to place it over his that rested over your stomach. “I'm just—I hate it here sometimes.”

The two of you seemed to sigh at once, your chests raising up then deflating in tandem. It made the knots in your shoulders loosen for just a moment, and you could release some of the strain keeping you tight and awake.

“One more,” he coaxed lowly. “In—”

You both slowly pulled air up through your nose to fill the caverns in your chests.

“—Out.”

As all things came and went, so too did this breath.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips pressing something sweet against your throat.

You were too tired to cry, but you might have just then. Sometimes it was just a project, but other times it was everything to you. It was born from your two hands, your brains, your back, your bones. Plenty of blood, sweat, and tears had seeped into every proposal and presentation, but you could never tell if it was enough. Would it ever be enough?

Changmin's head shifted as you snuck another piece of orange past your lips. “Remember,” he said, “when we were in college, and I let you text girls on my Hinge?”

Your mouth sweetened into a smile at the memory. “It was only because I let you text the guy who'd given me his number.”

“He was so lame—he clearly just wanted you to go see that new Stephen King movie so he could hold your hand.” You could feel him roll his eyes in the dark, though his voice remained syrupy with sleep.

You held back a snort. “That's the point, hon. If I remember correctly, the pick-up lines I used on those girls actually worked.”

“Crazy.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You chewed on the next piece of fruit, swallowing it down before speaking again. “At least one of us has game.”

You felt the light pressure of his teeth against your shoulder, and you let out a surprised laugh. You didn't jerk away though—awfully used to your partner's strange language of affection—but you did push back against his forehead in lighthearted reprimand. “We talked about the biting.”

“Yeah, and you said you liked it.”

It was a good thing you didn't have fruit in your mouth. You warmed the slice of orange in your palm as you let the heat leave your cheeks and your neck. He could undoubtedly feel how flushed you were, and he seemed to preen at it.

“Gotcha,” he said smugly, and the smile on his lips molded against your skin as he left a kiss behind your ear. He nuzzled his nose there, too, fingers dancing along your side.

“I love you,” he said next. These words were quiet again. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You knew he meant the state he found you in—hunched over in the dark, eyes glazed over, and dread thrashing in your ears to fill the silence. The laughter that lit up your face just now had been his doing, his attempt at easing all of that burden.

You laid your head against his. “I love you, too.” You hated feeling this way, but some things had to be done. You had to see this one through, and you would.

“Don't run yourself ragged for this,” he said, as if reading your mind. “Can't let you lose yourself.”

The corners of your eyes prickled, your vision going blurry again. Your chewing slowed and you finished the last of the orange in your hands to clear the way for him to grab your fingers to intertwine them with his. He rocked your bodies slowly, dreamily—he was the gentle swaying of the waves beneath the raft you laid upon—and he was keeping you above water.

“Senior year of high school—” a miniscule break in his own voice, “—when college decisions came out… you didn't speak for so long, didn't eat. It was so quiet, and I—I didn't know how to help you.” Back then, the two of you were only labeled as best friends; you still hadn't decided if what you had back then was what you had now, but it was love in some form of the word and feeling. You supposed in every phase of knowing Ji Changmin, what you felt for him was love. “Can I help you now, please? How can I help you?”

You sucked in a breath and it came out trembling. “I'm just tired.”

“Yeah.”

“Just—that’s all. Just be here with me.”

You could feel his slight nod that turned into a tuck into your shoulder. Your pulse fluttered beneath the brush of his lips, his hands tightening around you. (I'm not going anywhere, not without you.)

In a night quickly dissolving into daylight, he held you and held you and held you.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @kflixnet @bjnet

[lesbianwyllravengard]

i still have yet to play bg3 so i still dont go here yet but Wyll seems literally like one of the most compelling characters of all time and im not even joking. I havent even played the GAME but his character arc haunts me /pos. people are literally just racist to say that he isn't compelling

LITERALLY. He's utterly fascinating. He is a folk hero, a legend, the fantasy equivalent of superman. He's a warlock who is secretly pacted to a devil. He hates devils. He's an incredible liar. He's incredibly sincere. He's silly. He unironically enjoys puns and clowns. He over-exaggerates his Blade personality because it amuses him. He sometimes doesn't know where The Blade ends and Wyll begins. His hero-ness is a performance; not to hide ill intent, but to hide a broken man, to hide weaknesses and fears. It's who he is. It's always been a distant thing, a mask. It's who he thinks he must be. He loves freely and openly and will let anyone know it. He's only ever wanted to know he's loved. He still thinks his father's inability to trust or believe in him was all his fault. He still thinks that every bit of suffering he's ever experienced was all his fault. He thinks admitting to suffering would be disrespectful to the lives he's saved. He thinks he has to suffer or else his sacrifices were worthless. He thinks it couldn't be a sacrifice if he didn't suffer for it. He would take any suffering if it meant lessening someone else's. He is the first person to stand up for someone's life and safety, the first person to defend someone's worth and autonomy. He is the last person to do so for himself. He is of the least importance to himself.

He needs to be needed, because if he's not needed then what good is his power and the soul he sacrificed for the pact to get it? And if he can't be needed then he throws himself into the fray without hesitation because his purpose has always been to sacrifice himself so others may live. His life has always been one of sacrifice. His life has been recompense since the second he was born and his mother passed as a result. He saves lives to make up for it. It will never be enough to him. It will always be everything to those he saves. He just wants to be seen for who he truly is. He thinks if no one can see him for who he is then maybe it isn't who he is, and maybe he's fooled them all, fooled himself into thinking he can be a better person, be the hero they need. He wants to be known by someone. He's terrified of someone looking deeper. He sees others for who they are. He's a monster hunter who does not hunt the typical definition of "monster", who knows that monsters are not the ones with fangs and horns in his group of friends but the men who look harmless yet cause endless death and suffering to others. Not even the threat of his life was enough to get him to harm an innocent.

He wants to be chosen. He cannot fathom that someone would choose him. He chooses others over himself every time. He has so much love for others. He thinks he must constantly earn love. He is shocked when someone simply loves him. He thinks he cannot love and lead at the same time. His only role model was a father who could never put his son before his city. He is capable of immense anger. He is capable of immense kindness. He purposefully chooses the latter; he works hard to not let his anger consume him. He's still angry over things that happened a near decade ago. He thinks feeling hurt is the same as being angry and so he can't be hurt. He's always hurting. He takes pride in his achievements and he does not underestimate himself. He's not religious. He devotes himself to his cause with the dedication of the most pious believer. He stands by his friends in any battle, against any struggle. He stands against them if they choose to threaten lives. He holds on to those he cares about with bloody knuckles and teeth bared because loss has always been the hardest pain for him to bear. He has lost everything. He gives every part of himself to others. He cannot lose anyone else. He thinks he can do anything because he refuses to believe any alternative. Because he could not survive any alternative. He thinks his intent is as important as his actions, and so he must always intend to do the right thing.

He does not tolerate his boundaries being pushed or his father being disrespected. He tolerates any judgment because he thinks he deserves it. He defends his status as the Blade of Frontiers. He thinks the fear caused by his devil form is a fault of his own that he must work to fix. He hates the patriars and their farce diplomacy, their lethal hypocrisy. He thinks his father is infallible. He does not hold himself to the same regard as he holds everyone else. He thinks its okay if it only hurts him. Anything is okay as long as it only hurts him. He has to keep fighting to prove he can be a hero. He is so, so tired. He cannot for one second admit to wanting for anything, because once he starts he might not be able to stop wanting. He cannot accept that he deserves to not suffer, too, because if he does he might not be strong enough to continue suffering so others might suffer less. He might not want to suffer. He thinks he cannot regret any decision he's made, he cannot regret his pact, because it would be a dishonour to the good he's done with it. He thinks that saying he regrets his pact would be saying he regrets every life he's saved with it and he would never regret saving lives so he cannot regret his pact. He's accepted that his freedom will always be the cost of saving lives. He desperately wants to be free. His life has never been his own, to him. He thinks every choice he's ever made was his own, alone.

He is very complex. He simplifies himself to be easily accepted by others. People fall for it easily. He just needs one person to look closer. He's afraid of what they'll find if they do. He doesn't keep his cards close to his chest, he meticulously chooses which cards to hold at all. Which parts of himself are worth losing if need be. How much of himself he has to keep close in order to keep being himself. He has seen the worst that the world has to offer. He chooses every day to be kind, to see the best in things, in others. He chooses to care. He holds onto his pain because it's proof that he cares. There are several pathways that don't connect quite right in his brain which you'll notice after a few conversations with him. He is wise beyond his years. He is my favourite guy ever

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Soccer Family. Silly little idea, but Imagine Miguel pestering the wife by calling her breasts "Milk Jugs" lmao

One time he says it too casually, and Gabi pops outta nowhere like "Milk Jugs?". He never hears the end of it from his wife lol

😂😂😂 omg Mild nsfw

---

You were doing the week's laundry when strong and large arms hugged you from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder.

"Hmm" he hummed and with a hand pulled the tanktop a bit down, nodding in approval at how full they looked from his perspective.

"W-What are you doing?" Your fluttering voice mumbled as he cupped your breast, something he would do out of nowhere.

"Just taking an observation, mi amor." He'd squeeze them to feel you tense.

"Wait! no no! Im not wearing my nipple pads-" Too late, your top was soaked with milk and he nodded, coming to an end of his experiment.

"Love those milk jugs." He escaped after giving you a firm spank before you could get a hold of him. You had to change your top.

And from now on, that's the nickname for your breast. Even though you had stopped nursing Benjamin, milk was still coming out of you, making it sometimes uncomfortable and awkward. At least for you. Miguel would unabashedly love them the more.

If you were in the kitchen, he'd do exactly like he did in the laundry area, he'd even whisper it at your ear whenever you were around just to see the angry and flustered reaction on your face.

-----

You were helping him with dinner when that knowing smirk plastered on his face. He loved when you wore his shirts.

"Too bad can't see those milk jugs properly, corazón."

"Milk Jugs?"

Gabriela's voice snapped your attention (and almost your neck) by how fast your heads turned in her direction

"What are those?"

Oh ho, Payback time.

You squeezed his glute, he went rigid and you smiled sweetly at him

"Yeah, Papa. Why don't you explain Gabi what are those?" Your hands went to his waist to ground him on the spot. he cleared his throat, trying to sound serious

"Something you never must say before Mama, Solecito." he cleared his throat and patted Gabriela's head softly.

"You're so in trouble" you whispered and he deadpanned.

"You forget I like getting in trouble with you" He kissed your temple and served food.