#soft shit idk

[moths-obsessions]

don't think i ever posted this

[lotus-pear]

do you guys ever think abt what if mori made chuuya and dazai room together when they became partners instead of just having dazai live in a shipping container? bc i do.

[down4acount]

I refuse to draw Gale in his old man pjs again

[fizpup]

fighting game characters when they aren't beating eachother to a pulp

bonus arizona :3

[dogd0m-charlie]

yeah yeah sure rough freaky t4t gay sex where i mount you aggressively and overstimulate you by making you cum over and over until you're crying etc etc. but- hey, no, listen. take my hand for a second. what if. what if maybe um. you know, instead of that, what if you let me just lay back and kiss my neck gently and slowly jerk me off or maybe ride me for a little while and praise me for how much I've been doing lately and how good i make you feel all the time and tell me you're proud of me, because you know it's really hard for me to always just push through and make myself get things done and you want me to be the center of attention just this once, so you decide to make me cum this time while muttering praises in my ear to make me really feel as appreciated as possible. maybe. (please)

[chipper-smol]

So...... Loop and Odile huh?

v THE OTHER RESPONSE I DOODLED v

yeagh

[wodimewoahtime]

this is hyumizisua to me

[roseslost]

Okay, but what if the Avgins had their own native language and Dr Ratio (or whoever you ship Aventurine with) learned it one day for one reason or another?? Then, Aventurine, happy that he found somebody he can talk with in his native language, started teaching Ratio random slang that wouldn't be in textbooks. By the end of it they have their little secret language that they can use to exchange intel on mission. Maybe Ratio teaches Aventurine Latin too.

[wyvernspirit]

I know most people want gentleman Husk to Angel

But I would like to argue back that gentleman Angel?? Kissing Husks knuckle after he gives him a drink? Making him a fully homemade (Italian) dinner with drinks? So many ideas I have

(the superior answer is that it's both of them in different ways at different times and everyone around them is honestly jealous) ((and wants them to finally kiss god dammit))

[threalcrabbysamantha]

Only when the tears spilled down his cheeks in earnest did she reach out her hand to caress his face. The few times she’d dared to touch him since he’d joined the group - since their reconciliation, really - his breath had grown shallow, his movements stilling. She hadn’t asked, even though the question lingered constantly on the tip of her tongue, but he clearly wasn’t used to as much touching as the rest of them were, herself and Sokka especially.

But Katara knew well enough that touch was the best cure for these kind of tears.

Pressed against his skin, her hand warmed pleasantly, and a buzz of satisfaction rippled through Katara’s chest at the sensation, like her hand had finally found its rightful place in the universe. She brushed her thumb along his jaw even as she pushed the feeling firmly back to the corner of her mind where she allowed herself to entertainment such things.

Zuko himself leaned into her hand briefly, then tensed, his spine snapping to a straight line. Opening his eyes, he wiped the tears on his sleeve and leaned away, however slightly.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “I - sorry.”

Her hand fell to her lap where she tangled it into the skirt of her tunic, trying to satisfy the missing sensation of his warmth. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s okay for you to cry.”

Zuko’s whole face twisted into a scowl, his scarred eye disappearing entirely in the expression. “Not in front of you,” he insisted.

Katara blinked, her hand stilling in her lap. “Oh,” she said.

“Not -“ The disgraced crown prince of the Fire Nation shook his head, like it would help him decipher the jumble of words he kept locked up in there. Letting okay a sharp sigh, he muttered, “My family’s already caused you enough pain. You shouldn’t have to take care of me too.” Katara answered him with her own scowl, a familiar fire stoking in her gut. Rising to her knees, she closed the distance between them, grabbing his chin to direct his gaze up to meet hers. Any other time, she’d have blushed at the absurdity of the action - what was she, some hero from a romance scroll? - but it was impossible to feel absurd as Zuko’s lips parted minutely, eyes wide as they roamed her face.

“You’re right,” she said, low. “Your family - your country- has caused me a lot of pain. So why would you cause me more by not allowing me to comfort my friend?” Relaxing her grip on his chin, she brushed her fingers upward on his face until they traced the edge of his scar.

“Taking care of you doesn’t cost me anything, Zuko,” she murmured before releasing him. She turned away to give him space and maybe to jump in the ocean or hide away in her room until the flush that had slowly crept over her whole body calmed - but she didn’t get very far, because Zuko’s hand wrapped lightly around her forearm, tugging her back to face him. When she had, he gently traced his fingers down her arm until they were threaded with hers.

“It doesn't cost me anything either.”

[teddybeartoji]

彡 A MASSIVE PILE OF GUILT

☆. contains: tooru oikawa x gn!reader; this is called angst i think (with comfort), reader plays volleyball and oikawa comforts them after they lost a match, reader talks badly about themselves:( i'm sorry, they swear they're just really really good friends but they're also just fucking stupid wc: 4k

in the blink of an eye the loud screams and cheers transform into a disgusting mix of muffled noises in your ears. the lights are too bright and you feel like you're stuck to the ground; stuck under hundreds pairs of eyes. you can't move, you can't breathe. your arm stings, a painfully clear reminder of your fuckup.

you should've had it, you saw it coming, you had a plan and yet - here you are, watching the colorfol ball hit the wall of the big arena with a quiet thud!. your eye twitches, locked onto the missed oppurtunity in a form a sphere sit metres away from you and your teammates.

because of you.

like a statue; turned into stone, you stand in your awkward position, unable to comprehend that it's over. that it's really over. it feels like everybody is looking at you, cursing you in their own heads. is this what drowning feels like? even if you could open your mouth to try and save yourself with a big breath of air, the stifling stench of losing would surely just make you choke harder.

a palm slaps onto your shoulder and you don't have to look at the person to know who it is – a dejected captain trying to pick up their loved teammates. you can't look at them; how could you? they're trying to cheer you up while you're the sole reason you lost in the first place. they give you a squeeze, a silent plea for you to snap out of it and you comply, not wanting to humiliate them any more.

you did well!

an arm around your shoulder, you're being dragged away from the court and you taste blood – the result of biting into the soft skin of your inner cheek in order to surpress a cry. the lights are too bright and you just want out.

after the handshakes and the formalities are done, your coach gives you all a pep talk. not that it helps but what else is there to say right now. you eat in almost complete silence; the only sounds in your ears being the chewing and the crying.

you've yet to do that. your lip wobbles and your eyes are red but so far, no tears. but you know you will – it'll be the only thing you'll be doing after you've locked yourself away into your room.

good game!

you feel sick. the food in your mouth is starting to taste like vomit and the water isn't helping either. still, you refuse to stop. refuse to raise your eyes from your table to ask whether you can leave. you will sit there as long as the others do and you won't complain. you will eat the food just like the others do and you won't complain. you don't get to do that.

the hugs feel just as suffocating as the eyes. you've never felt this bad in your whole entire life. you feel bad for thinking that the hugs feel suffocating – they're literally trying to comfort you and you're blatantly refusing it. stupid. stupid. stupid.

everyone has their own things they do after a loss. some like to be alone, some like to go for a run, some like to beat the fuck out of a punch bag and some like to do watch a comedy film with their teammates. it's silly; none of them laugh during it anyway. but it helps. you know it does because you've done it with them – not this time though. and they don't pressure you; they're not stupid, they understand how it feels. you need a moment and they will give it to you.

your captain does sit you down for a second before letting you go though, calmly telling you how it wasn't your fault and how you'll get it next time. and it sucks. it sucks that you don't hear it... it sucks that nothing will make this feeling go away. you know it and your captain knows it.

their warm hand resting on your back does soothe the shivers that have been tormenting you ever since you lost the ball. and for the first time since that moment, you crane your neck, raising your heavy head to meet their eyes and now you do feel like crying. the sadness is there, but so is the same warmth, the same adoration one has for their loved ones. nobody is upset with you, nobody blames you. their hand rises from your back and goes up to ruffle your hair as you let your head fall against their chest. "you're okay."

they hold you close as your tears soak their shirt. you hear a loud sigh and you know they're holding back theirs. the shivers are back and you hiccup out a broken i'm sorry, which makes the captain pull away immediately and grab your shoulders.

"don't. it wasn't your fault. it wasn't. you can cry as much as you want but that? you're not allowed to do that." there's a certain determination in their glassy eyes and you have no other choice but to weakly nod your head before letting it fall again.

"by the way, i saw you not eat properly, so i'm keeping an extra eye on you tomorrow morning, okay?" they poke your cheek and you're thankful. "i'm gonna watch the movie with the others but i'm keeping my phone close by, so if you want company at any time, just let me know."

you raise your head back up, desperate to show your appreciation for them and nod again, cracking the world's smallest and saddest smile and they ruffle your hair again before standing up. "you're okay."

they close the door behind them and you take a minute to compose yourself. you can't seem to stop your hands from shaking though and it makes you angry. your now empty room is too quiet and your own reflection in the window is taunting you with an ugly expression. is that really how you look like right now?

you don't wanna know and you don't want to keep looking at it either. so you grab your hoodie and your wallet and make your way to the lobby of the hotel. maybe the reflection in the vending machine won't be so mean.

and it isn't. it's not mean at all. it's the exact opposite actually. from the fact that it's staring at you with rather soft eyes to the fact that it's not your own reflection.

"good game, right?" you scare yourself with your own voice – already so harsh and raspy. it comes out mean and you wince. you tear your eyes from his, focusing on the sweet drink that's locked behind the glass instead.

oikawa is never this quiet and it makes you want to hit him. make a joke. just do it. just do it already. but he doesn't. his steps are quiet as he goes to lean on the vending machine. he's nothing if not observant; he sees your shaky hands pressing the buttons with so much effort; how the lips that are usually pulled into a beautiful grin he loves so much are now wobbling, ready to spill all of your sorrows. your clenched jaw as you try to avoid his gaze for whatever reason.

please, look at me.

the vending machine dings as the mechanics push your drink to you. his eyes are unforgiving and you know he means well. you know he's not gonna make fun of you, he's not gonna tease you – not now. but you still feel ashamed, whether he says the joke or not; the joke has already been made and it's right here, standing in front of a stupid pink vending machine.

your head shakes on it's own, casting shame on yourself on it's own. the drink falls with a loud thud! but before you can kneel down to get it, a hand on your wrist stops you.

his hand is so warm and it's unusual, considering he tends to be cold almost always. he doesn't push you and let's you take a deep breath before you raise your eyes to his.

if his heart wasn't shattered before, it sure is now. your eyes are red and glassy, but mostly tired, so tired. there's no glint in them, dull and sad. his hand slips from your wrist to your palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. "you did well."

your head falls back as you choke out a broken laugh. "oh, fuck off. i don't wanna fucking hear that. it makes me sick." staring at the ceiling, you shake your head again as if to rid of the words from your mind.

oikawa feels useless. he's been in your situation and yet, he can't think of anything good to say. he remembers how much he hated whenever people said that to him after their loss to karosuno. he tries to swallow the lump in his throat; everything he comes up with just makes him feel even more sick. he wants to cry because he doesn't know how to comfort you. how to make it all better.

"do you want me to stay with you?"

that's the best he can come up with. maybe just his presence will be enough when his words clearly aren't. but when you shake your head again, his heart sinks.

"that's alright. let's uh– ... tomorrow, yeah?" bringing your eyes down from the ceiling, you try to give him a reassuring smile that says i'm fine but it obviously doesn't work. you see the hurt in his eyes and you just feel bad. you feel bad for everything. you're upsetting people even off the court. you just can't help it can you?

"i'm good. i just need to be alone right now." you try again, squeezing his hand. his mouth opens but another voice cuts him off.

"oikawa!"

from around the corners emerges an angry looking iwaizumi. "here you fucking are. coach said it's bed time—"

when his eyes travel from his troublesome best friend over to yours, he swallows his words in an instant. you see the remorse wash over his face and you kind of want to laugh. it's all too funny in a fucked up way. "sorry for interrupting. hey, that was a really goo—"

good game!

he stops himself. fuck. what do you say in this situation?

"good game, i know. maybe next time it'll be a great one, hm?" the bitterness just oozes out of you without your consent, making iwaizumi wince. you feel bad.

pulling your hand from oikawa's, you kneel down to finally grab your nearly forgotten drink. "it's okay, really. i know what you mean."

another weak smile. a pathetic one. "see you at breakfast, yeah?"

oikawa shoving iwaizumi is the last thing you see as you're making your way back to your room. your hands still haven't stopped shaking and opening the door is so fucking hard. the key card slips from between your fingers—

breathe... in...

and out...

you kneel down and pick it up in slow motion as you're tunnel visioning on just getting inside the room. you hear the click! and you burst in, slamming the door shut. the ugly reflection is back and it's laughing at you and you can't do it anymore. your knees buckle from under you, hitting the soft carpeted floor as you weep. hunched over, you just look like a big pile of guilt.

clutching at your heart through your shirt, you cry and you cry, taking in raggedy breaths just to let out pathetic little sounds. everything hurts – your knees, your arms, your head, your eyes, your fingers, your legs, your inner cheek. you pretty much crawl to the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissues before plopping right back down onto the floor. your nose hurts, too.

for almost an hour – you don't move from your spot, rooted and rotting into the carpet. it's pathetic. you think about how the others are watching the movie, shedding tears quietly but together, nonetheless. sick of your own actions, you push yourself up and change your clothes. you even manage to drink some water and wash your face in this half-alive state of being. a+ for effort, huh?

you bury yourself under the blanket, wishing the bed would swallow you whole instead. the tears have returned and you feel the pillow getting wetter and wetter by the second. you don't have it in you to grab another tissue though, letting the feeling of the soaked material remind you of your fuckup.

a floor and a few rooms away, oikawa can't stop pacing around. "but they said they didn't want me to go with them...."

"have you ever considered that people lie, idiot?" a tired iwaizumi replies from underneath his blanket on the bed. "especially in a situation like this. it's not like you were any better, you know."

oikawa just glares at him, although it's very hard for iwaizumi to take him seriously when he's wearing his matching plaid pj set. "but what if they get upset that i didn't listen to them?"

"but don't you wanna go and comfort them?" iwaizumi questions harshly. "don't you wanna be there for them? is your fear of overstepping more important than their well-being right now?"

oikawa thinks of your tired, sad eyes and his fingers twitch. "no."

"obviously, dick. go on, then. you have to be back for breakfast though or i'll punch you." iwaizumi states before turning away from his friend and disappearing completely under the blanket.

"you're so mean, iwa... can you not threathen to punch me every two seconds? i'm trying to be so good." oikawa mutters with a pout, grabbing his phone and his hoodie, ready to be your knight in shining armor. knight in plaid pyjamas more like.

"just go already." his friend grumbles and oikawa gifts him a small bye-bye as he's already halfway out the door. the next thing he knows, he's sprinting through the hallways, thanking himself in his head for making you tell him your room number the second he saw you this morning. he doesn't even take the elevator, instead taking triple steps up the stairs. he's also thanking himself for becoming an athlete.

knock! knock! knock!

dismissing that as just a noise from the room next door, you continue your sniffling but when the knocks repeat in a faster manner, you figure one of your teammates had forgotten their key card. so, ever so slowly you push yourself from the comfort of your bed and head over to the door while trying to wipe the tears from your eyes as to look at least a little bit more composed. you're even ready to crack a joke about them losing the card, desperate to disctract the person behind the door from yourself.

but it's not any of your teammates, nor is it your manager of your coach.

it's your oikawa instead – eyes wide open and slightly panting. "you said you don't want me here but i– fuck, how many steps can be between one floor..." he clutches his hand over his chest, the stupid comment slipping out all on its own.

for a millisecond, for a fraction of time, the corners of your lips turn upward but they fall just as fast back down, leaving you both just standing there, staring at each other.

your eyes look way worse now; way more red, way more tired, way more sad, way more dull than a mere hour ago. he should've come here sooner and he imagines iwaizumi slapping the back of his head for his mistake.

"you said you wanna be alone but i don't care."

his blunt statement catches you a little off-guard, your eyebrows furrowing but oikawa just takes it as a green light. if you didn't want him there, surely you'd tell him that right away but you've been standing here with him for a almost half a minute and nothing.

he takes a step, closing the distance between the two of you. he pushes his glasses up on his nose and fiddles with his own fingers and it's weird again. he's nervous. but this isn't about him – it's about you. whatever he's feeling right now is nothing compared to what you're feeling and he just wants to be here for you.

for a second time today, he watches your bottom lip wobble and your chest rise as you take short sharp breaths. and for a second time today, a pair of eyes feel actually comforting. he's not trying to burn you, he's not trying to take back time and alter your actions. he's merely observing instead of dissecting. he's ready to catch you when you fall.

and you do. it's hard not to when he's standing in front of you and looking at you so fondly. your head falls against his strong chest, hands tucked between your bodies as his firmly wrap around you. he takes another step inside and closes the door behind him with his foot.

he listens to you cry into him, he feels your tears on his shirt and through it, on his skin. your hands grasp onto the material, bunching it up in your fists and he just holds you tighter against him.

"you're gonna win next time, i promise" he murmurs.

but when you just sob out a but i wanted to win this time, his heart aches so bad he thinks he's going to die.

oikawa curses at himself for walking right into that one and this time he swears he feels iwaizumi slap the back of his head for real. but he has no time to pity his poor choice of words when he feels your hands clutching at him just where his heart is.

he whispers a quiet i know and you sniffle again. he starts drawing soothing circles onto your back with his palm and he feels so warm. releasing his shirt from your hold, you snake your hands around his body instead, burrowing your face even more into his chest and you faintly hear him coo. it's the first time ever that he's done it in a genuine way and it's the first time you haven't felt the need to punch him for it.

his hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you in your place as he gently sways the both of you from side to side. "i got you."

after some time, he feels you going slack against him and decides to guide you to the bed. he climbs in with you and safely tucks you into the crook of his neck and lets you cry some more as he whispers it's okay against your temple. he just hopes that he's actually helping, that his words actually have an effect. god, he hopes he's making it at least a bit better for you.

he is. he's doing more than he could ever imagine. the thick goo of guilt and shame seems to be draining out of you when you feel his lips brush against your skin. he just might be washing the it off of you with his quiet praise. his words don't sound condescending nor do they sound fake. he means it when he says that you really did do well.

the tears have dried by now and oikawa can feel your eyelashes fluttering against his neck. the long tiring day is finally catching up to you as your breathing slows. he rests his head on top of yours and presses your body indifinitely closer to his. the tips of his fingers dance across your skin, drawing little circles and hearts as he soaks in the sight of you relaxing against him under the moonlight.

"did..."

your meek voice makes him crane his neck back so he can look at you better, ready to hear out whatever complaint you have, ready to comply to whatever request you have.

"did iwaizumi send you?"

...

"WHAT?" it comes out way louder and in a way higher pitch than he'd intended it to. he immediately clears his throat but his eyebrows are still furrowed. "i wanted to come here, why would you say that..."

he still can't see your face clearly from this angle but the way your body moves, is telling him that this isn't you crying anymore. this is you laughing.

"are you– are you fucking laughing at me right now?" he questions, trying to pry you from his neck to confirm his suspicion. and he's fucking right. when you finally unlatch yourself from his body and roll onto your back, you have the tiniest, smallest smile on your lips and oikawa's mouth falls slack. "i wanted to come! i– i'm a good friend!"

it shouldn't be this funny. it really shouldn't because he is a good friend, isn't he? he's here now, holding you, comforting you; he came to you and you're now making fun of him. but you can't help it, the thought of iwaizumi "lecturing" him is silly in this moment. not that you doubt that he came here only because of that, of course. but knowing him, you just think he probably needed a push to actually do it.

oikawa holds himself up above you, observing the small freckles that adorn your face. your eyes are still red and still tired but... the small little glint is back. the same one that's always there when you make fun of him. or when you laugh.

"i literally ran here and this is how you treat me?"

"you're telling me it took you an hour to run up the stairs? i thought you were a volleyball player, shouldn't your stamina be better–" you poke at his chest (right where his heart is) and he lets out a very loud and a very dramatic gasp. "or did your boyfriend have to convince you to come over and console me?"

oikawa's lips tilt into a smirk, happy to hear you barking at him at last. "first of all, don't ever call him my boyfriend ever again–" he situates himself next to you, so his both hands are free. you should've seen this coming, too. "and second of all, you really oughta treat me better."

before you can taunt him with a good old "or what?", his hands are tickling your sides, fingers dancing along your skin as laughter bubbles up from your throat. you try to fight him off, hands clutching onto his in order to stop his torment but to no avail.

"i am... trying... to be.... a good... friend... and this is... what i get... huh..." he rasps as he continues soaking in the sound of your laughter.

"you're.... always... in it for something... that's not... a... real friend... tooru..." you breathe back with a grin and he stops. he doesn't take his hands off of you though, just resting them on your waist.

"you're spending way too much time with iwaizumi, you're both just so mean to me." he's pouting. oikawa is sitting back on his legs and he's actually pouting.

"am i gonna have to console you now?"

"yes." he deadpans.

...

you push yourself up onto your elbow and lean up to boop his nose. "you're stupid."

"no, you're stupid." he grins back.

he has his ways of getting you out of a slump, he always has. him sitting here on your tiny little bed, pouting and laughing is only merely of them. you couldn't wish for a better friend. his hands feel so warm on you and you're so grateful. sitting up, you slap your hands on his shoulders (which of course, makes him wince in a very over the top way). "thanks for coming, tooru."

he rolls his eyes. "pffft."

...

pfft?

"excuse me?" you glare at him and he decides that you and iwaizumi can never hang out ever again.

"i– i meant– yeah, of course. anything for you." he stutters out as you keep glaring at him. he then leans in closer, so much so that your noses are almost touching. "i'm really proud of you, you know."

heat crawls up from your neck and you feel the tips of your ears warm up, overwhelmed by the sudden genuine praise. but you can't let him have the upper hand. not now, not ever. he'll never let you live it down.

"your breath stinks, you know."

his eyes close with another incredibly dramatic sigh as he rests his forehead against yours but while doing so, he takes notice of your hot skin and the way you giggle, and translates it into your language –

thank you.

[inkmaze]

rewatching big eden w my head in my hands. wheres more media where the surrounding background is so devoid of homophobia/etc that its so chill to just have this quiet gay story w/o a single scene incl them having to justify or explain themselves, or any degree of hatred at them or other gays. n the town is not only chill they're actively trying to help them get together I'm. this aired in 2000 how do we not have. idk. more shit like this truly pretty casual chill regular relationship issues gay media

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them

[lees-chaotic-brain]

I want to tell Inumaki that he is Perfect. He is so expressive and loving even if he can't communicate...I feel like he would be sad for not being enough BUT LIKE HE IS THE NICEST IN WHOLE WORLD 😭😭😭😭 cryin rn

I was feeling really down, but writing this made me feel better, so thank you anon for sending this lovely little idea in.

CW: Shibuya spoilers, mentions of past injury, loss of limb, hurt/comfort, implied depression, insecurity, scars, non-sexual nudity

Collab Guide | Collab Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

“Hey baby, I’m back.”

You called out to your boyfriend as you stepped into your shared apartment. There was no response, but his shoes were in the doorway and his coat was hanging on his hook. Padding into the living space you still couldn’t find him.

“Hey, babe? Toge?”

Concerned you call out again. You knew things were rough for him right now with the five year anniversary of the loss of his arm coming up next week, but you hoped it wasn’t bad enough for him to run off.

The thought caused panic to bubble in you, your chest constricting as you hurriedly went to check the bedroom. The room was a mess, pictures and random scraps of paper strewn about. Picking up a few near the entrance, you realized that they were artifacts of your high school days. Pictures of you and Toge on dates, hanging out with the other second years, and sweet notes he wrote for you made up the mess scattered across the plush carpet.

Then your heart sank. As you surveyed the whirlwind of memories, you realized that they all had something in common. They were all from before the Shibuya Incident. Before he lost his arm.

Following the sound of running water, you pick your way across the room and push open the bathroom door. A blast of steam hits you in the face as you flip the lights and fan on. There he was.

He was sitting in the shower still wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, unresponsive as the near scalding water cascaded down on him. Without a second thought you peel off your shirt and socks before climbing into the shower with him. Crouching before him, you gently brush his sopping bangs out of his eyes.

“Hey babe. Found you.”

You smile softly at him, cupping his face with your right hand. He doesn’t respond, but he leans slightly into your touch.

“Can I hold you?”

You keep your voice gentle and quiet, your heart breaking for him. A slight, barely perceptible nod was the only sign that he even heard you. Maneuvering so you were sitting beside him, you wrap one arm around his back and lean against him. After a moment, he tilts his head so it’s resting on yours.

Sitting in silence, you give him the space and time he needs. After a long stretch of time, he pulls away and turns so you are facing him. You place your hand on his knee and squeeze it, silently telling him that you’re there for him, and he can take all the time he needs.

Clumsily, he begins signing with his remaining hand.

Why are you still with me?

Of all the things he could have asked or said, this was not one of the things you would have anticipated. You take a moment to think. Then you reply simply and bluntly, wanting to make sure that he understood what you were saying.

“Because you’re you. And I love you.”

He looks frustrated and his signing becomes jerkier as he speeds up.

But look at me!

He makes a vague gesture towards his entire body.

“I am. And all I see is the man I love.”

You have an idea where this is coming from, but you want to wait until he says it because the idea that he would think so lowly of himself physically pained you.

But I’m useless! His shoulders slump and he repeats the hand motion. Useless. 

“You’re not useless.”

You say firmly. 

“Not even in the slightest.”

I am though. 

The haunted look of self-loathing looked unnatural on his gorgeous face. 

I’m practically useless as a jujutsu sorcerer. I already have this technique that hurts me more than it helps others. Now I can’t even make up for my weakness with my physical ability because I lost my arm. 

Tears join the shower water dripping down his face.

And not only am I a worthless jujutsu sorcerer, I’m a pathetic boyfriend. I can’t hold you, the person I love more than anything else in this world, in my arms. I’m not strong enough to protect you. Hell I can’t even tell you I love you with my words! 

He averts his gaze to the water going down the drain.

And on top of all that, I’m selfish. I know I’m worthless. I know I’m not good enough for you, but I need you. I’m not a good enough person to let you go.

Finally done, his hand dropped to his side with a small splash.

“Hey.”

Your voice is loving, but insistent as you speak.

“Look at me.”

He complies, his lovely violet eyes dark and hopeless.

“You told me to look at you earlier. And I am. Do you know what I see?”

A pathetic man who-

You continue talking, ignoring him.

“I see the man I fell in love with in high school. He’s grown up and changed, but at heart he’s the same person.”

You caress his cheek, looking deep into his eyes.

“His face has sharpened and become more handsome.”

He shuddered against your palm as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and jawline.

“His eyes show that he’s seen and experienced indescribable horrors. He’s lost that innocence. But I love him all the more for it. Because I’ve changed too. I’ve lost my innocent belief that we are untouchable. I’ve become harsher, more pessimistic, and less emotional. But you know what’s in my heart?”

You take his hand and place it on your chest. Quietly he watches you, and you can see that your words are starting to penetrate the self-hatred clouding his mind.

“In here lives the silly teenage girl who thought that she and all her loved ones were untouchable, invincible. The girl who cared too much about anything and anyone. The girl who spent hours daydreaming about going on romantic dates with her white haired classmate that always had a mischievous spark in his eyes. The girl who kept a meticulous journal of her dream wedding to a boy with purple eyes and beautiful markings around his mouth.”

The corners of Inumaki’s mouth lifted a miniscule amount and his eyes softened as he remembered. Encouraged, you reach behind you and turn the water off. Continuing to speak, you begin removing his soaked sweatpants.

“As for your inability to tell me that you love me with your words, that has never bothered me.”

Placing the sweatpants beside you to deal with later, you gently tug on his arm until he stands and steps out of the shower.

“Honestly, I like it better that way.”

He shoots you a disbelieving look at your words, but allows you to dry him off before helping him into a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants.

“Really, I do. It’s so easy to say the words ‘I love you’ and not mean them at all. It’s a lot harder to fake it or lie if you have to express them through your actions. The way you worked so hard everyday to make sure I knew how you felt made me feel even more secure and loved than a few shallow words could.”

You quickly dry yourself off and change into a fresh pair of panties and a new shirt. Leading out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, you sit in the middle of your bed and lay a towel across your lap before patting it. Obediently he laid down and put his head on your lap. You began drying his hair.

“You’re special, Toge. You express yourself through physical touch and acts of service, and have never verbally said the words ‘I love you’ to me, but let me tell you. Not once, in the five and a half years we’ve been dating, have I doubted for even a second that you loved me. Do you understand? I don’t need you to be able to say the words to me. I already know.”

After you finished drying his hair, he sat up and faced you.

But what about my arm? Do you really want to be with me still? I’m disfigured and disabled.

The look in your eyes is so tender he can barely stand it. Why? Why do you look at him with such love and affection? 

“Toge.”

You breathe, the look on your face telling him that you knew exactly what was running through his mind.

“I didn’t fall in love with you because of these.”

You squeeze his bicep.

“I fell in love with you because of this.”

You tap his temple.

“And because of this.”

You lay your palm flat against his chest. Looking up at him, he can see the sincerity shining in your eyes.

“I love you for you, Toge. You could be the ugliest, most ratchet mf to ever roam the face of the planet and I would still love you. Because you will always be my person. And I hope that I’ll always be yours.”

He nods, smiling at your word choice as tears well in his eyes, relief hitting him like a freight train as you managed to say exactly what he needed to hear. Tugging your arm, you help him pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he buries his face in your neck as you drape your arms around his neck and card through his hair.

He presses repeated kisses against the crook of your neck, each one a silent apology for doubting the love you shared.

You rested your cheek against his soft white hair and took comfort in the intimacy of the moment. Kissing the side of his head, you whisper the words you so desperately want him to engrain into his soul and never forget.

“You, Inumaki Toge, are perfect. Just the way you are.”

[horseshoemybeloved]

And yknow what I do rag on my old art a lot and like, my old art is obviously worse than my new stuff cus of learned and improved but,,,this one,,,, soft spot for her,,

[alilaro]

they look fucking DISGUSTING. i am in love with them