“what’s On These?” Megumi Asks, Holding Up A Box Of Memory Cards.

for @tsukkiangel ’s this magic moment collab

it’s the drive to his game alone that makes sakusa realize that he’s grown dependent on your company. the silence through his journey to the stadium, the lack of your voice singing along to the music you blare in the background, the absence of your fingers fiddling with the loose curls at the base of his neck, they’ve grown a part of him, and now it feels missing.

he’s restless when he has to start his game without a kiss from you sending him off, and by the third service ace he scores and doesn’t see you cheering when he turns to your usual seat, his heart is aching painfully in his chest, and he needs you to know he’s sorry. he figures you’re watching the game from home, that he’ll see you in a bit and he can make up for the argument then, but he still can’t focus.

and when the msby jackals lose their first game of the season, sakusa can’t help but shoulder the blame himself.

he drags himself through your front door, plopping down on your couch with his face in his hands, hunched over with both elbows resting on his thighs. it’s silent, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it—to be here in your home after how he acted, but he craves the catharsis your touch provides him, the warmth of your skin against his and the sweetness of your words as you whisper them against his forehead.

but sakusa figures he’s never deserved them in the first place, and he’s proved that last night. you’re bound to leave him behind by now.

but he’s pulled out of his thoughts when a hand is laid gently on his shoulders, a weight sinking down beside him as an arm wraps tightly around his waist, pulling him into a warm embrace.

“i saw the game, omi,” you whisper. “it’s okay, baby. sometimes you just can’t win them all. don’t let it get to you,” you mumble into his hair, and sakusa’s breath hitches, the curve of his lips exchanging the frown for a slight wobble, his fist clutching your shirt.

“i messed up,” he whispers, and his voice cracks in the middle. and he thinks the hole in his heart is nothing compared the gap your absence would leave him—he realizes he’ll miss the tiniest of things.

the way you shake your hands over the sink three times before moving to wipe them on a towel, the way you twist his doorknob even after he checks if he’s locked it before you both leave—just to double check as you always say, the way you carefully set up the pillows on your bed to lay how you want. they’re all habits he’s watched plenty of times, and they’re mundane to anyone else, but they’re precious to him.

you’re precious to him.

“omi, it’s one game, baby. and it wasn’t just you—”

“no, last night,” he interrupts. his chin is propped on your chest as he looks up at you, eyes wide and slightly panicked—and just the slightest bit broken if you look deeper. “i…i messed up last night. i’m sorry. please…please don’t leave,” he croaks.

sakusa realizes the little crinkle of your nose when you smile at him is enough to turn his coldest days warm. he leans closer into you, cheek pressed against your chest as you hum.

“it’s just one fight, they’re bound to happen. i know you didn’t mean it,” you murmur. “i’m right here, aren’t i?”

glancing up, he crinkles his eyebrows. “you’re not mad?”

“i am, kiyoomi,” you glance down at him, booping his nose, and it’s his turn to crinkle his. “i’m still quite mad, but you need me right now. we’ll figure out last night later.”

oh.

sakusa realizes for the first time that he’s encompassed by a feeling so raw, so inexplicably and undeniably light, it makes him forget for a moment the despair of just a moment ago. he smiles into your chest.

he doesn’t hesitate a seconds longer to mumble “i love you.” and you pause, your fingers that thread through his hair coming to a halt as you process his words. he feels you press soft kisses along his forehead, taking extra care to gently kiss each mole at the end, like they’re something precious of their own in your heart too.

and that’s what love his, he realizes, finding the raw beauty in the tiniest, mundane things, looking past the large flaws for the little blessings in between. and it takes him the softness you still gift him despite the jaggedness he shows, but he knows this feeling is nothing but love, and he knows even past his jagged edges, you soften him up because you love him too.

and you prove it when you whisper “i love you too, omi.”

f!reader, fluff

“haji, I told you ten times by now–”

you were not lying about this one, moving out together was a lovely moment that you were gonna treasure in your mind forever, but your boyfriend asking you every single time if you needed help picking up that single box was coming irritating

“–im a woman! I can pick up this by myself.”

with that you were off to try yet again to pick up that damn box, that if you didn't guess any wrong, it had fucking rocks inside

“im not saying you're not a woman, woman! I'm saying we could pick it up together or you could let it to me”

he was, in fact, having fun with your attitude and expressions while you tried to at least move the box “stop laughing hajime! it's not funny”

he didn't stop laughing, just dropped one of his hands to his knees while the other one wiped the tears going out his eyes

“you’re not gonna pick that up, babe” he said between giggles, trying to maintain eye contact with you

“why not? do you think I'm weak hajime? I'm not a weak woman hajime iwaizumi, watch your tone–”

he sat next to you, placed a hand in your thigh and proceeded to speak his thoughts out loud “ read the back of the box, love, I promise you're not weak”

“hajime if this is a fucking joke I swear— you're gonna be sleeping on the couch”

“read it”

rolling your eyes, you decided to turn the box to your side, with a little help of your boyfriend, even if you didn't want to admit it, the box was huge and heavy

gym weights

gym weights

“oh” you said, totally surprised, now you did understand why his biceps and thighs were so damn big and strong, that was heavy

“yeah 'oh' " he imitated your voice “lets do it together baby, ‘kay?”

JJK BOYS + WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I DIED?

[includes] gojo satoru // ryomen sukuna // fushiguro megumi [warning] ment. of implied suic1de (megumi’s part) [notes] i feel like i gave realistic answers?? i did gojo too serious LMAFO

— GOJO SATORU

“‘toru, what would you do if i died?”

your plethora of questions started from boredom, having nothing to do on a humid wednesday afternoon so you decided to randomly interrogate your boyfriend. tiny questions about his favorite color or dessert evolved into meaningful ones that had him quiet for ages, gathering his thoughts to give you a truthful answer. though this one, he didn’t hesitate much answering.

“my place in the jujutsu world wouldn’t let me grieve for long, so i’d probably be forced back to work. but.. i’ll never be the same. i’ll do my job, but the life in me would go.”

you really didn’t know how to react other than stare at him silently, watching the sincerity in his eyes before smiling and lightly shaking your head. “well”—bringing himself up from his position on the couch, he slides down to accompany you on the floor, dragging the blanket down with him for the two of you to share—“you don’t need to worry about that. i’m the strongest after all.”

— RYOMEN SUKUNA

you could see that slowly, your lover was getting irritated by your questions. maybe it wasn’t the best idea to settle down and ask dozens of the most random things that pop up in your head while your boyfriend works, but you knew when to or not tease him and right now seemed like it was an okay time.

“sukuna, what’s your go-to line to say?”

“prepare to die.”

“fair enough. what’s your favorite time of the day?”

“when you’re asleep.”

“hey!” you fake offense at his snapback, maneuvering your way so that your head was on his lap and both of your hands were wrapped around his bicep, squishing the muscle. “sukuna, what if… i died?”

“what type of question is that.”

“just answer it,” you grumble at his nonchalant attitude, not once looking up from whatever paper he was writing.

“you can’t die, i won’t allow it.”

“never mind that! answer the question: what would you do if i died?”

“i would make sure that person or curse will never see the light of day again. i’ll take the roughest form of revenge and give them a slow, painful death.”

maybe you struck a nerve, because when he looked down at you in his lap, you couldn’t really depict the look in his eyes. “like i said, i’ll never allow it.”

“the universe doesn’t need your permission. what if i died in my sleep?”

he ruffled your hair in response, stretching his back before putting his focus on his papers once more. “i don’t like thinking about stuff like this.” and that was his attempt of showing his feelings. you know it’s hard for him to express, and you got the message he was trying to send, so you decided to not push any further, smiling to yourself silly for the rest of the day.

— FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

it was late. way too late to be snuggled next to your boyfriend, your hair tousled from the jump you had to make to sneak in. at this point you would’ve left, but tonight was different. moonlight dripped from the open window, adding an extra layer to the intimate moment you both were having, spilling out your darkest secrets to each other in the confinement of his little dorm room. you fell into comfortable silence, providing solace with touch rather than words.

“megumi, what would you do if i died?”

the thought popped in your head like any other, and you were pretty much unfiltered with your boyfriend so you didn’t hesitate to ask. he studied you for a few seconds, letting your question sink in before saying, “guess i’ll go down with you.”

you blinked. “what. don’t say that!” ogling at him in disbelief, he simply stares back before lacing your hands together underneath the sheets. “my life would be nothing without you.” he mutters.

“we’re sixteen, i think after a few months you’ll move on—”

“you dont have any idea. ive been best friends with you my whole life and your lover for six months. my heart cant take another loss.” he was talking about yuji on the last part, you realized. you were quiet once more, drinking in every curve and bump of his face as if you were trying to engrave it in your mind. “well then, you’re now stuck with me for a looong time.” you grinned.

and he grinned back, “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

@ httpmiriko 2021 - all rights reserved.

🎁 v- 풍경: the day's precious glow as i gather each and every fragment of the moonlight for you.

for a while my question was “how does bokuto have both big brother and little brother energy at the same time” and i think i know the answer. he’s a youngest sibling but he’s also the cool older cousin at every family function that let you play on his phone and taught you how to do a cartwheel and made a competition out of making faces at each other behind the adults’ backs whenever conversation at the table got boring

living life at your own pace isn’t a waste of time

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA ATSUMU x FEM READER

Being hot at the grocery store should be illegal.

wc — 800

tags — grocery store meet cute, set in the same universe as the way to the heart is through the stomach

“There is an attractive man on the other side of the grocery aisle,” you hiss at Kiyoko. Your roommate had dragged you out for a grocery run, but as the person who forced you out of the comfort of your home, she could stand to be a little nicer to you. 

Instead, she raises an eyebrow; her face conveying utter disdain, confusion, and slight pity at all once. It’s a little impressive, honestly. 

She peeks between the cracks in the shelves. Looks at you. Looks at the man. Looks at you again. She makes a motion that could be what are you waiting for or let the grandma pass so she can get her multivitamins. 

Sometimes it’s complicated when it comes to Kiyoko. She’s not great at talking without words. It’s because she’s spoiled. Must be nice to have a boyfriend who loves you so fully you don’t have to try to be understood, you think with a hint of jealousy. 

Then, she pushes you towards the other aisle in a gesture that’s unmistakable. 

“Kiyoko!” You’re appalled. “You’re not making me go over there. I’m wearing my pajamas!” 

Your pajamas are grey sweats with multiple suspicious stains from ketchup or blood or some other substance. You’re not sure. That’s why it’s suspicious. 

“Okay? He looks worse,” she says. Notably, she doesn’t tell you that you look fine. 

She probably thinks that’s reassuring. It’s not. 

The fact that he’s also in his pajamas and still looks hot is infuriating. 

And very sexy. 

Terribly so. 

“Just go talk to him,” she says. “You know if you don’t you’ll be thinking about him for days, anyway.” 

“I will not!” 

“Excuse me,” says the hot stranger, who in the time that you spent arguing with Kiyoko, has suddenly moved behind you. “Do ya mind?” 

He’s gesturing at the package of cereal behind you. 

You freeze. How did he move so quietly? And had he heard the conversation between you two? 

“Hello?” He waves his hand in your face - a little rudely. That deducts one point from his overall hotness score. You scramble away, giving him access to the shelf. 

“This is my favorite brand,” he says conversationally, “but my brother got a girlfriend lately, and every time she comes to our apartment she eats all of mine. I’ve told her not to like six million times! And he’s a chef! Why are ya even eatin’ processed junk if ya can get yer professional chef of a boyfriend to make ya whatever ya want? He’s so whipped, I swear.” 

“Aren’t- aren’t you also eating processed junk, then?” You say with trepidation.

He brushes you off with a “No, that’s different.” 

He’s…a little weird. Who just talks to a stranger like that? You have to admit that confidence is attractive - even if you’re not sure if it’s confidence or narcissism as he continues. 

“So, like. Are ya going to ask me out or what?” 

You choke on your own spit. He had overheard. There would be no better time for one of these shelves to fall on you and crush you instantly.

“Woah!” Says the hot stranger, who still hasn’t told you his name before commanding you to ask him out. “Ya okay?” 

He slaps your back as you wheeze for breath - hard. Is he an athlete in his spare time? How does anyone have that kind of arm strength? 

“I-“ You shut your mouth because actually, you don’t know what to say. How do you respond to that? 

“Come on,” says Mr. Bad Bleach Job. “I heard ya and yer little friend talking about me all the way down the aisle. I know you want in on this sexy ass.” 

He’s ridiculous. Are you - are you into that? You’re seriously reevaluating your mental health even as you say, almost to your own surprise, “Can I take you on a date?” 

He wrinkles his nose. “I dunno. Can ya make it a little more romantic?” 

“Why don’t you ask me out if you’re going to be so demanding?” You challenge. 

“Sure,” he says easily. “Wanna go out? We can get fancy sushi for fun and eat McDonald’s after cause that’s real food.” 

Even you can’t tell if the noise that escapes you is a laugh or a sigh. What have you gotten yourself into? 

“Whatever,” you say, handing him your phone. “I think mine was better.” 

“They both kind of sucked. 5/10 for execution, -2 for sheer cringe, -3 for awkwardness.” 

“Kiyoko, read the room.”

“I will surround you with a love too deep for words.”

— Mumford & Sons // Rose of Sharon

please keep in mind that learning is always a process. learning to draw, dance, play an instrument, but also learning to say no, learning to start conversations, learning to be more comfortable in your own skin. it’s great setting goals for yourself, as long as you allow yourself to get there gradually instead of immediately wanting to be the best at it (and setting unrealistic standards for yourself because of it). change is rarely a single moment during which everything suddenly shifts, but rather a period of time in which you learn and adjust and improve. you’ll get there, but you must give yourself time to do so.

if all you did today was get through today, it’s good and it’s enough.