#seriously why am i so dramatic
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Writing a journal seems to be a good way to cope with bpd, it's a bit humiliating reading it later though
#seriously why am i so dramatic#most of the problems i cry over weren't even real just me overthinking#hopefully it helps me to see when im just overthinking and stop myself from spiraling in the future because holy shit
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can i ask why some hotd fans take the show as canon? or pick and choose? because we already know they changed shit up from the books. and the books are, to me, the only things that matter. that’s what came first. also i’m genuinely curious, because if we already know that f&b is told by the perspective of very unreliable narrators, why are we fighting so much? i don’t understand
#this is NOT an invitation to argue on my blog. if you don’t like this post scroll away. don’t waste your time on something you know you-#-don’t like.#i really am curious because i just don’t get it#i’m not trying to start anything regardless of what some may possibly think#why would we take the words of unreliable narrators so seriously if we KNOW they dramatize things#house of the dragon#team green#team black#alicent hightower#rhaenyra targaryen#daemon targeryan#aegon the second#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#a song of ice and fire#game of thrones#fire and blood
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I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"
#Which.. I mean... I am allowed to be biased because literally it's just for my own personal reference (or occasionall#y to send to friends or something if we're discussing the topic) so like.. nowhere am I saying 'I am the god of perfect taste and these#rankings are objectively the absolute truth and everyone should have my same opinion' or anything#BUT still.. it's funny to me sometimes#'Succession would be 100x better if it had the same cast/character quirks and shaky camera style and#acting choices/weird dialogue and general concept etc. EXCEPT it takes place within an elven noble family or something#managing the family business and everyone is in fantasy costumes now'' like.....okay...... but it's NOT that way..soo... thats not the show#''I like the acting style/general tone of Fleabag but i don't care for any of the characters or any of the subject matter and I wish it was#set in the 1800s and had vampires and was about magic instead'' okay..... again... you are making up an entirely new show in that case lol#OR my other beloved typical complaint ''The concept is good but theres too much plot and action and not enough people just sitting#around doing nothing and exposition dumping world and character lore'' ''this needs more goofy sideplots and filler episodes''#''this Drama was too dramatic I think it should be more lighthearted & people need to sit around doing nothing just being weird more often'#''the Action Movie was ok except for the action scenes - which I skipped through all of- but I liked the costumes and worldbuilding'' etc.#ERM sorry your plot has too much plot. also elves have to be included somehow. bye#BUT SERIOUSLY!!!!!! I literally genuinely believe that any show I like (or even dislike) could ALWAYS be improved greatly by#putting people in fantasy or historical costume/setting/etc... why the FUNK would I want to see bland jeans and cars and cell phones#when I could see elaborate velvet cloaks and fantastical landscapes and interior design and innovative takes on historical or#magical technology or etc. etc. etc. I LIVE in the modern day. I see it all the time!!! BORING! stinky!! boo!!!#ANYWAY... another social divide for me.. People love to bond by discussing media. which is hard when I'm like#'I literally will not watch something at all unless it fits into one of these 10 extremely specific categories which are all i care about i#the entire world''.. I say this and yet I still dislike most fantasy or historical things I've watched lol. ok TWO main criteria then!!#it must 1. be in a different world or time period. 2. be goofy silly. Nothing ever has BOTH. It's always overly serious boring drama action#fantasy/history stuff OR it's comedic lighthearted but with modern day characters... WHY.. anguish and woe and so on..#ANYWAY jhjnk... at least I can make that divide. Some people seem to project their own personal preferences and get really emotionally#defensive if you say you didn't like something - as if the fact that they DO like it is some Objective Truth or something rather than just#opinion/preference based. I can still easily say ''this is well made/well written/acted/good in a technical sense/has a lot of#points of appeal that most people would be drawn to/etc'' and admit that it's a GOOD show probably. I just PERSONALLY think its#bad because my tastes are very narrow. Some things ARE actually made badly but. things are not bad INHERENTLY just bc they dont suit ME lol#Better to recognize/accept whats odd about you and be peacefully aware of it than just being mad at everyone all the time for not fully#agreeing with you even when you're the one with the Weird opinion in that case lol.. I am right though :3 but.. lol... still. i get it
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Imma be honest with you chief this week has not been fun. At all
#oh boy i had a terrible three days time to go tell my tumblr followers about it!#ah no but jokes aside y'all.#i started my job on monday and i actually like it so far!#i haven't done any actual work or anything quite yet cause its all onboarding at the moment#but so far so good! all my colleges are lovely#so you might ask why is this one of the worst weeks of my life? two words#FOOD. POISONING.#this shit is straight up EVIL#im doing better today thank god but yesterday??? omfg#“look im being uber dramatic here but when am i not to be fair”#But seriously#ill try not to go into too much detail but. 10 hrs. yeah.#my throat feels like someone has shoved a metal ball down it#i havent eaten anything today#and I'm missing two days of training over this 😭#this is so embarrassing first week on the job and boom food poisoning knocks me out for two of them#im gonna be the food poisoning guy 😭#i hope y'all are having a better time than i am
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happy birthday! I just wanted to let you know that I came across this account after seeing this sick horror piece of old time churches, decinding to follow the page, and then realising that it was the same artist who'd written that sick comic on time travelling werewolves and vampires which I'd lost. and they're both t4t too ! effervescent
thank you!
Honestly it is an extremely unfamiliar reality that someone could know me from multiple different things... Not sure what to do with that but I'm glad to have impacted you in small ways and I hope to continue to do so! So thanks for being here, I'm glad that fate brought us back together haha
#honestly I never know what to say to things like this#its so kind...#there's also some kind of. there's a lot of feelings around it#the goal of an artist is to touch peoples lives in small ways. imperceptible ways really...#and I guess I never think of myself as doing that. I just think of myself as intending to do that#because thinking of myself as someone who IS feels like a great level of responsibility that I'm not sure I'm quite ready or qualified for#but I am! I've been making comics for years and I've like indisputably influenced the lives of thousands of people#and I take that extremely seriously. even though its a silly little comic its very dear to me and I am very proud of what I do#and so. thank you for sharing this#I'm being very dramatic. I'm aware LMAO#idk! just like woag my stuff is out there...#people remember it... man... thats just unreal#dickensians#asks#just another reminder of why I work so hard to make something 'good'#to me it's about making something that is worth the love people are giving it#because you're all so so so important#and you deserve something wonderful#and so I'm just doing my best to make something that feels wonderful. as much as I'm capable of haha#so. yeah...#just reminds me how important it is and why I do what I do.#thank you
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Why can't the churches with choirs and pipe organs and stained glass windows have a bit more theological rigor??
#i am constantly forced to reject churches with beautiful music and sanctuaries I can see myself getting married in#in favor of rigorous theology#and like. i will every time#but how it that fair??#i maintain that truly beautiful churches and stained glass windows and pipe organs should belong by right#to Christians committed to taking the Bible seriously#it makes me so sad every time I live near a church with gorgeous carillon bells and know I'll never even consider membership there#bc i see the titles of their sermons on the signpost out front every week and *yikes dudes I'm praying for you*#or like that time i was invited to come sing in the choir at a church where both my voice teacher and my choir director were involved#like. a church regionally famous for having a truly fantastic choir#and obviously had to turn them down because I've read their what we believe page and they only mention 2/3 of the trinity#why can't a girl have it all?????#honestly this is the most compelling reason imo to move back to southern California#lots of beautiful Presbyterian churches with sound theology AND choirs and organs and beautiful sanctuaries#but alas#i am here#and so i suffer#(I'm being dramatic. I'm sure whatever church God has for me will be great)#but also#just#sigh#can't a reformed girlie want a pipe organ? as a treat?#pontifications and creations#new adventures#sunday school kid
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2 years ago i fucked up a friendship w a girl (that im pretty sure i was in love with). to this day i think of her and sometimes when i see her on the street i just wanna cry. i understand your plight very much.
yeahhh man im sorry to hear that!!! it genuinely fucking sucks and i would never wish this upon anyone. cuz like it makes you fully think about all the what ifs and i genuilnely dont think ill ever find someone like her again
#im not trying to sound dramatic im being so serious she was so fucking perfect for me#i geuss the difference is shes the one who broke up w me and i know i didnt do anything wrong#neither of us did#its just like fuck!!! you know?? like we could have been so much#serious relationships dont need to be longterm to be serious you know???#one of these days im going to get tipsy and then 'drunk' text her even though i fiully intend to text her#and then claim i was just drunk because im notl ying im just not telling the full truth#like i fully considered it last night but i knew it would be a bad idea and i know if i do it its just gonna fuck things up more#but im soooo tempted man#like i dont know what itll even do#i know inside my goal is to maybe convince her that its not our time to end but i know in reality#its just gonna make her feel guilty and push her away even more if i show her how much ic are abou ther#i just seriously wish i understood why she even did it#i also thought being back on campus would help and i mean it has for sure becuase ive had my friends to distract me#but the thing is im not enjoying anything. like im not being distracted im just being numbed ykwim#cuz the moment i leave my friends all i do is think about her#and even when im WITH my friends ill be in the moment w them and then 2 minutes later ill start zoning out thinking about her#like the worst part about this is i dont have any anger *against* her#maybe im angry about like the general situation but the anger isnt against her#and while being angry is its own kind of pain in a way it can be easier cuz at least then youre tempted to have a good time and show off#but when its like this where youre just sad at the situation like what am i actually gonna do except think about her#sorry anon im not trying to dump on you i just start ranting in the tags sometimes#sunny rambles#anon tag#asks
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#it's 7 am and i started crying because i miss him so much#it's making my heart ache so bad#i wanna crawl in a hole and DIEEEEJDJDKDNDKSKD#i have to be dramatic forever or i'll die but also#seriously why is my heart so [screaming noises] bc i miss him like this#girl you need a JOB!!!!!!#he's so beautiful i feel sick#like that's NOT FAIR .#i'm building a nest in his hair and never leaving gbc#goodnight ...#chan#bang chan#skz#stray kids
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I know I've been particularly incoherent for the past few days (again), and it's so dramatic and ridiculous but it seriously feels like something is punishing me. I just want to like things a normal amount. I just want to like people and characters a normal amount.
I don't want to become so fully obsessed that literally nothing else exists and thinking about anything else feels like my brain is being stabbed with a thousand tiny knives. I don't want to need to find every piece of information I possibly can on whoever it is this time. I don't want to feel like I'm (literally) losing my mind when I see them. I don't want any of this!
I can not believe that I exist as a human being on this stupid planet just to get obsessed with people over and over and over again forever.
#like it's not. fun. it's not 'oh haha I just like this guy a lot :3' no it feels like. dying.#like I said I know it's fucking dramatic I know. but it feels SO BAD#and sometimes SO GOOD because nothing else gives my brain that feeling but god damn it most of the time it's just painful#maybe I should try drugs#probably.#maybe I should start drinking again#that made it bearable#but no that's. stupid#but my god how am I supposed to go through this again and again and again so many times in a row#I don't know how to explain how fucking devastating it is to attach yourself to. some stupid idiot (I'm sorry I don't mean that.). only to#not really care anymore after a couple months#what do you MEAN. I literally love this person with every stupid fibre of my stupid being and now he's just. some guy again??#I don't know. how. not to do this. it's not a choice! it's not something I DO. it HAPPENS to me.#and it only doesn't happen when I'm so depressed that I want to actively die.#anyway yeah it's about John Larroquette and Dan Fielding and Jenkins and yeah I'm the fucking stupidest fucking dumbass on earth#someone hit me in the head to fix my brain please#and seriously this is not normal. it can not be normal. this is not how normal people feel about stuff. it can't be#I think this is why I don't get fandom culture. and shipping specifically. like. no I'm not. I'm not enjoying these characters. I'm not#watching this show and thinking aww these two should kiss :)#I'm. not there anymore. I don't fucking exist. all I do. is think about this person. I can't stop it.#I am not a person when I don't feel like this. I'm not even real. I'm just whoever I'm obsessed with. I say that so much but that's how it#feels! I'm not real.#so anyway when I say 'haha I'm fine' what I mean is no I'm not someone make my brain work right please#I just. see him and start crying. because it's so overwhelming.#maybe I should find a therapist and hope they speak English and show them this post :)#haha no that's ridiculous I could never mention this to a normal person#guess I'll just keep driving myself to insanity with this crap.#personal
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eye twitch.
#sorry in advance that the infrequent posting ur getting is venting#vents 🌧️#I just. gh#I am trying so hard to be as good a friend as I can#but where the fuck was this when I needed it last year#I was literally fucking dying last year. I was slowly bleeding out for so fucking long. and I mean that LITERALLY.#I was in the worst pain of my life#and then jax's elim.. looking back on what that did to me while I was in such a vulnerable state..#it fucking destroyed me and almost nobody took it seriously#princey understood and that was it.#I cried my eyes out over it harder than I had in literal years#and still everyone else thought I was being dramatic#it's not fair it's not fair. I still can't think about it for too long before I start crying#and it's been over a year. this fucking sucks.#whatever.#[through gritted teeth] I'm breaking the cycle I'm breaking the cycle I'm b#if you read this far: Sorry#idk why this blog is becoming such an outlet for me. ig it's a place I feel safe
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#i have a light feeling that my mom might be hinting at something#with the whole. mentioning my mood swings and sensory issues and poor social skills and such#i say i'm unsure because she's not one to be subtle in situations like this? so i feel like i'm projecting#but she did suggest (partially related) going to a psychologist#and the thing about me is that i'm very self aware about my many flaws and therefore have decided#that i can't fix them or that it's not that bad as long as *i know* the issue is there#which is starting to sound like an issue in itself? but i feel like im being way too dramatic every time#i know i'm just in a stressful spot in my life and that it will pass in a few months#but i am starting to seriously consider getting an outsider's perspective. just in case#im feeling down *all* the time lately but there's always a reason to blame so i feel like it's just rotten luck and not something within me#there's not enough time but also too much of it for me to make excuses for not being able to do Anything at all and i feel paralyzed#but isn't it just the everyday terror of being in charge of yourself#i wish i could come up with a definite answer but there isn't one and the childish part of me is so frustrated with it#i have a fantasy of violently breaking my arms that doesn't lead anywhere i just feel the urge consistently enough that it's a pattern#(ive never self harmed i know i won't that's why it's just a fantasy)#i crave complete anonymity i crave deep genuine human connection and i don't want to talk to anyone. ever again.#ive talked with at least three different people partially about those thoughts#but talking about it is difficult and like pulling teeth#im clumsy with my words. can't quite find the precise meaning i want. i stutter and hum and mumble#i hate talking but if i don't i will explode#i want to be taken seriously but saying things outloud makes them sound so harsh and i don't know if it is that serious#but it's a pebble of thought that i can't stop turning around in my head over and over and over until im sick#never! ending! story! jesus christ#vent post#← tagging just in case#pretend you've never read it
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why r all the recommended posts under my rambles angsty stuff I said when I was like 12 😭 why won’t u let it be in the PAST tumblr huh
#cal rambles#everyday I am haunted by my past ts phase#SERIOUSLY THOUGH EUWHAJDJVC EHY R THEY ALL LIKE HALF A DECADE OLD POSTS !!!!!!!#STOP ITTTT AUAUHGGGHH JEHWJAKXC#maybe I need to replace my talking tag lol#12 yr old me was SO dramatic. i still am today just more chill abt it <3#also why was I vent posting on tumblr dot com who let me think that was a good idea#i see them in the recommended all the time when I’m checking who liked what post yk#so I don’t think. that people NORMALLY see those recommendations bc who would ??#but it is one of my fears that one of my beloved mutuals will see 12 yr old me’s random fuckin vent posts#IM COOL I SWEAR 😭#laughing so hard. i drew vent art bc I was scared of going to highschool#it was a big deal for me at the time it’s SO FUCKING FUNNY NOW
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Drink a little something to keep u up at nite. Resistance is futile.
#i feel really dramatic about my inner emotional landscape rn#i spent a lot of therapy talkig. about how i dont think i actually have DID. and how i dont WANT to move to china and i dont know why i keep#making these borderline suicidal plans.#i went to florida and it was good. i think my family hates me but like. theyre nice to be around. and not being in the desert was.... amazin#everyone is wishing me luck in china and im like GOD i dont want to do this.#and my therapist is like “bruh.” laughing every other second because im like “i dont have did...... but everyone in my head thinks i do”#and i firsf i hahad but then i serioused. like genuinely i think my oersonal percepfion is just really off or something like ive trained my#self to think this way.#anyways. i saw the rain i soent my childhood playing in and it was just water#the ground wasnt even thirsty for it. the narrative of the universe didnt care about how it didnt need to rain. it rained because thats how#water works#i just. want a place to live. and i job that i can have that supports me with out taking away my ability to function out side of the job.#I WANT TO BE ABLE TO KEEP MY SPACE CLEAN#I want to be skinnier :(#i want to be honest and true and REAL. i want to be a real human being. i want things to make sense. i want i want i want i want i want i#i have everything i need rn. but i still WANT. i hate wanting i feel so discusting and dumb. i feel unlovable. i AM unlovable.#i cant kill my self because i lromised my brother id grow my hair out
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Gather around, my young friends and fellow dinosaurs, let me tell you about some BULLSHIT no one ever tells you about. I'm talking about menopause and perimenopause. Now, menopause has a very stringent medical definition. You have to not have had a period for exactly 12 months and a day to be considered in menopause. All the bullshit before that day once you start going through The Change is considered perimenopause. Here's some bullshit you might experience that people actually talk about when you're in perimenopause:
- shorter time between periods
- irregular periods
- hot flashes and/or cold flashes
- fucked up sleep
- OMG NIGHT SWEATS
- Vagina as dry as the Sahara desert
- lighter periods and/or endless bleeding like it's The Flood but it's in your pants
- lack of interest in Adult Fun Times
This time of joy can last anywhere from a couple of years to a god damn decade and there's no medical way right now to predict it.
Here's some of the REAL bullshit they don't tell you about but your dinosaur aunt is here to let you know:
- You can start perimenopause in your 30s, don't listen to idiot doctors who tell you you're "too young" because they don't know your body like you do.
- Perimenopause will make you HELLA DUMB. Seriously, I'm talking Bigly broken brain. Brain fog? Check. Short term memory? Wave goodbye to it. Ability to make words form out of thoughts? Yeah, good luck to you.
- Perimenopause can cause horrible fatigue because in addition to losing estrogen, you're also losing testosterone. Oh and that also leads to muscle wasting, cool cool.
- Things might suddenly hurt more because estrogen is known to be neuroprotective.
- If you're super lucky like I am, and like to collect rare illnesses, you might even get Burning Mouth Syndrome 💀
- And meanwhile, while you're going through this bullshit, you'll be getting gaslit by doctors who are operating based on 30 year old debunked data about how HRT causes breast cancer (not really) and that they shouldn't put you on it until you're in actual menopause. (Data shows starting HRT early can potentially prevent Alzheimer's in later years.)
- There are entire online clinics right now (I use Midi Health) focused on providing care for peri and menopausal patients and they will happily prescribe you HRT even if your regular PCP or OBGYN do not (if you meet the criteria). I've been pretty impressed with how holistically they view the patient. For full disclosure, I learned about them from my integrative health doctor and they do not accept Medicare (yet).
I'm 46 years old right now and I've been symptomatic for perimenopause for the last 8 years, although it's gotten the most dramatic in the past 2 years or so, which I hope means I'm almost done, holy hell. Yeah I was on the early side, but if it can happen to me, it can happen to you, so it's never too early to think about these things. And I hope to at least spare some of you the mind-fuckery I've been through because no one told me about most of this stuff, including my own mother who just DOESN'T REMEMBER what happened to her and now I completely understand why. And because I also have a connective tissue disease, I used to just dismiss my pain and fatigue as being caused by that illness rather than the loss of hormones.
Anyways, this is why we need Elders in our lives, so they can do Grandma Story Hour like I just did and validate you when the entire medical field tries to gaslight you. I hope you've found some or all of this educational/useful. Please share with your friends because we really do NOT talk about this stuff enough. (Ewwww Moon Blood!)
Stay well, and don't let the bastards grind you down!
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Curiosity Killed The Cat
prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.
pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Marvel
collection masterlist: Clingy Baby
word count: 5.1k+
note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.
warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.
Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.
You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.
Rooted.
But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.
You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.
This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.
You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?
Curiosity, indeed.
Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...
"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."
"And the jalapeños?"
"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."
"Cream cheese?"
"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."
Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."
"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"
"Lemme pick you up."
"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."
He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"
"Let's do a white tonight, please."
"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "
"Hang on," you pleaded.
"What's wrong?"
"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"
"We haven't been to Paris in months."
You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."
Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."
"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"
"So, is that a yes?"
"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"
"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"
"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."
"I'll bring the camera."
"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"
"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.
"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"
"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"
There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "
"It's 15," he growled.
"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."
"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "
"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."
"Don't hurt her - "
"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."
The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.
He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).
For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.
"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."
You sniffled, unable to respond.
He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"
You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."
The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."
"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."
"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."
You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.
At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.
"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.
"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"
You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.
Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.
And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.
You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.
Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.
Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.
So now... To hear this... You were devastated.
You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.
You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.
"She's different, man."
"How so?" Sam wondered.
"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "
"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.
"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."
"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.
"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."
"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."
"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"
Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"
"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."
"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."
"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.
"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."
"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."
"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"
There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.
So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."
"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"
You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.
"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.
"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"
"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."
"Peach - "
"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.
"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"
"Sure."
Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"
You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.
Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.
Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?
You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"
"Out with Nat," you eased.
He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"
"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."
His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."
"I know."
"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.
And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.
When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."
The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.
You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.
Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.
Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.
Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.
After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.
"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.
"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.
"What?"
"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"
"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."
"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"
"About...?"
"Me."
"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."
Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.
"Huh?" Nat wondered.
"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.
"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."
Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"
"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"
"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."
"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.
"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."
"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."
"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."
"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."
"They can take it."
"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"
"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.
"Bucky," she growled.
He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."
"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."
"Why lie, then?"
"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."
"No shit."
"Well, did you get into a fight?"
"No."
"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"
He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."
"You had to do something."
"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."
Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"
Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."
"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."
"I didn't mean - "
"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."
Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"
"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"
Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.
The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.
Clingy...
You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...
His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.
When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"
You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.
He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."
"I'm here."
"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.
"What's wrong?"
"You. You're what's wrong."
"What the fuck does that - "
"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."
You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.
"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "
"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."
"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."
You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "
"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."
You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."
"It's not."
"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."
He nodded, "What else can I do?"
"Nothing - "
"Peach."
You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"
"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.
"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"
"All right... Sure, okay..."
"And face masks."
He sighed, "Okay."
"And mani-pedis."
"Baby."
"You said you were making it up to me, right?"
He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."
"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."
"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."
"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."
"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."
You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.
Felt okay.
Appeared okay.
And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.
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My Wife is Real
IMAGINE: MY WIFE IS REAL~ GOJO X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. use of y/n. use of she/her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Who do you think he’s texting?” Nobara whispers to her two classmates, Yuji and Megumi.
Their teacher, Gojo Satoru, sat at his desk. Legs kicked up onto the desk while he was on his phone, giggling here and there.
It was questionable if Gojo even knew that class had started.
Megumi didn’t even bother to pay attention. He also sat on his phone, scrolling through social media.
“I don’t know…” Yuji ponders. “Ugh, he has to be harassing a poor soul.” Yuji gasps at Nobara’s response, “no.”
Nobara sits up in her seat, “Gojo-sensei,” she calls out. Gojo peeks up, “oh. I didn’t know you were here.” “Maybe if you stopped bothering people, you would notice.”
Gojo places his hand on his chest and gasps dramatically. “I am not bothering anyone.” “Then who are you texting?” “My wife, duh.”
Nobara bursts out laughing, “hahaha, yeah… yeah right.” She wheezes. Tears left the corner of her eyes as she tried to take him seriously, but she really couldn’t.
Yuji just stares at him in confusion, “you’ve never told me about his wife. I don’t believe you.”
Gojo gasps in shock and disbelief at his student’s words. “Huh?! I do too have a wife. That hurts my feelings that you don’t believe me!”
Gojo’s full focus was on his students now. Trying to convince them that his wife is indeed real. “She’s literally the best person in the whole world, and the prettiest.”
Nobara scoffs and rolls her eyes, “stop making things up Gojo-sensei. It’s getting sad at this point.”
Gojo pouts at her words. He then grabs his phone, typing something in his phone. He puts his phone down with a triumphant smile on his face. “You’ll see.”
“Yeah… we’ll see.” Nobara says to Megumi and Yuji.
Megumi on the other hand was not paying attention to a single thing that was going on. He assumed something stupid was going on, so why even bother to pay attention? Yuji just has a thoughtful look on his face, trying to remember any mention of a wife. But there is no mention of one.
“Yeah… I think you’re making this up… sorry Gojo-sensei.” “This is just getting sad…” Nobara whispers while shaking her head.
“I can’t believe my student’s have little faith in me.”
Only five minutes passed of slight bickering between until a knock was heard at the door. The bickering died down and all heads turned towards the door.
Nobara’s and Yuji’s eyes widen seeing a woman at the door.
“Who is that?” Yuji whispers to Nobara. She shrugs her shoulders, “has to be someone he hired.”
Gojo jumps from his chair, a huge smile on his face. “Wifey!”
He runs over to you, pulling you into a tight hold.
You let out a strangled gasp from the impact. “Gojo,” you start, “this is the second time you forgot your lunch… and it’s only Tuesday.”
Gojo pulls back, a faux pout on his lips, “I’m sorry.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I bet you’re just using this as an excuse to see me.” “Whoops, you caught me. Well, while you’re here. Let me introduce you to my students.”
“Wait wait-” You didn’t get a chance to stop him because he dragged you into the front of the classroom.
You eye the three students. Megumi had finally put down the phone, giving you an apologetic look. Nobara and Yuji were looking at you in shock.
“Students, this is my wife, (y/n).” Gojo basically shows you off with a bright smile on his face. Hands in a jazz hand formation. You nervously smiled at the students.
“Hello.”
“Hello Gojo-san.” Megumi quietly said, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. You gave the boy a sweet smile, nodding at him.
“What?! Do you know her?” Nobara and Yuji ask him. “Yes…”
“Yes, they’ve known each other for quite awhile now…. Sorry guys. She’s a bit shy.” Gojo says while you continue to smile at them.
“They didn’t believe Gojo-sensi had a wife..” Megumi tells you.
You hum before turning to Gojo, “I see… I don’t blame them.”
“Huh?! What is that supposed to mean?” You roll your eyes. “Ever so dramatic.” “...so mean.. How can my wife be so cruel?”
“Ugh, no one cares,” Nobara sighs, “come sit down with us (y/n)-sensei. I have so much to ask you.”
You just smile at the girl and move over to the desks.
Gojo looks at you with a shocked look. Not believing that you were leaving his side.
“What are you doing?” He asks you. You look back at him, “well, you wanted me to meet your students. So I’m getting to know them.”
You give him a little smirk and Gojo knows that type of smirk. The one where he’s going to regret his actions later.
Maybe not now, but he knows that this decision will come to bite him.
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