trappist1-d - Tumblr blog

trappist1-d · 16 days ago

Text

circle of anti-love

synopsis: you trap yourself in a ring of salt because you’re mad at your bf

characters: jinu, abby, romance, mystery, baby

warning/s: none,

note/s: mystery’s takes a different approach! and i’m so baby biased i’m unapologetic about it lmfao

jinu:

the argument you and jinu had was in no way detrimental to your relationship but it would be a lie to say that it didn’t piss you off.

you saw him corner the huntrix member with a smirk on his face and lean down, you know that jinu would never do anything to put your relationship at risk but the sight definitely had you seeing red.

“(y/n), talk to me.” jinu says as he follows you around the living room, you say nothing as you stand on the side of the living room, a jar full of salt in your hand as you draw a reasonably sized circle around yourself.

“sweetheart, you can’t be serious.” he crosses his arms as he looks at you. you spared him a glance, still not saying anything as you sat down, opening the book and paying him no mind.

“don’t you think you’re being petty?” he asks. you say nothing, flipping a page louder than necessary to get the point across. i’m ignoring you.

jinu sighs. “you know, you’re gonna have to come out of there eventually. i won’t bother you.”

another page flipped.

jinu throws his hands up in surrender. “fine! be that way.”

you scoff at his lack of effort as he walks away, but you didn’t bother replying to him as you continued to read your book.

hours passed and there was no sign of jinu, a part of you couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the fact that jinu kept his word and didn’t bother you.

you swallowed, cringing at how dry your throat feels, looking around the living room, you see no sign of your demon boyfriend. surely, you can grab a glass of water and get back in your circle to finish your book.

you step carefully over the circle, making sure that your step makes no sound and that the salt stays in place.

you let out a sigh in relief, only to scream in shock once a dark mist appears and a hand pulls you into a warm body.

“hi there, sweetheart.” jinu whispers sweetly into your ear. you thrash against his hold, trying to pull away but you were no match for his inhumane strength as he had the audacity to laugh at your attempts.

when you calmed down, jinu turned you around to face him, smirking at the pout on your face.

“are you ready to talk now?” he asks. you shake your head slightly. “there’s nothing to talk about, jinu.”

“that can’t be right.” he clicks his tongue. “my sweetheart is mad at me. i want to fix things.”

jinu places a finger under your chin and tilts it up to face him. “let’s fix this, please?”

you relent, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

“i really… didn’t appreciate you leaning close to rumi like that.” you say quietly, almost as if you dreaded what he would say. you expected him to call you overdramatic, that it didn’t mean anything or that you were blowing things out of proportion.

“i see.” jinu replies, pulling you closer to his chest. “i’m sorry. i’ll do better. i should’ve thought how you would feel.” huh?

you pull away to see jinu looking at you with a serious expression.

“i won’t do it again, promise.” you couldn’t find the words to say as you let him whisk you onto the couch.

“can you promise me something too?”

“what?”

“let me know when you need assurance. there’s only ever you for me.”

abby:

you and abby were in a standstill. you expressed displeasure about how his fans were too touchy and that he should establish a boundary between them because his body was yours to touch, not theirs. abby only patted your head and called you cute but did nothing to address your concerns and that irked you off.

“baby, you aren’t serious right?”

“yes i am.” you say as you cross your arms, sitting in your circle of salt, glaring at your boyfriend who looked like he wanted to cry.

“all because a few randoms flirted with me? baby you know you’re the only one for me.” the way he brushes off your reason for being pissed off only serves to piss you off even more.

you rolled your eyes, even going as far as to turn your back on him, huffing.

a groan escapes abby’s lips. “babe, come on you can’t be serious.” you say nothing.

“fine! be that way, let’s see who cracks first.” he says, sitting down on the couch and crossing his arms, staring straight at you as if he were challenging you.

it was on.

you spent the next hour on your phone, quickly liking then scrolling away angrily whenever a fanedit of your boyfriend appears on your feed.

you didn’t spare him a glance but you were aware that he was still sitting on the couch behind you. your ass was starting to hurt from sitting on the ground. why couldn’t you have drawn your ring of salt around the couch instead? you think to yourself, almost wanting to get out of your circle just to stretch your legs.

a sound almost resembling a whine interrupts your thoughts, you pivot slightly to see abby looking at you with a frown on his face.

“are you seriously still mad?” the sad lilt in his voice made your body turn back around to completely face him.

“you’re already cracking?” you couldn’t help but challenge him, a brow raised as your lover downright pouts.

“babe, do you know how hard it is to have you so close to me but i can’t hold you?”

“and whose fault is that?” you countered, crossing your arms. abby stands up and rounds the circle.

“mine, sure. whatever, but please, let me hold you? we can talk about it more but i really need to hold you right now.” abby puts out his hand, a sad expression on his face as he waits for your response.

“i’ll do better.”

with a sigh, you reach out, your hand pushing through the salt ring’s barrier. abby immediately pulls you away from the damned circle, causing a yelp to escape your lips.

you were immediately greeted by a hard chest and abby’s face nuzzling into your neck.

“‘m sorry babe! i know it’s hard to have a boyfriend who’s so hot that people just wanna touch his abs all the time–” you cut him off with you trying to pull his arms away from your form.

“let me go!” but there was no real bite behind your words.

“no, but in all seriousness. i’ll put a boundary between me and my fans.” he says, staring right into your eyes with an expression of sincerity.

“i’d even put a boundary between me and the other saja boys if that’d mean you’d never put a boundary between us again.”

you soften slightly, your hands patting his arms, which only causes him to hold you tighter.

“you mean it?” you asked, pulling away from him to cup his face in your hands. abby nods, determined.

“even jinu?”

“well…”

“abby!”

“i’m kidding!”

the two of you shared a laugh over it, and your boyfriend kept his word. he put a boundary with his fans immediately when he had an event.

he’d rather not touch anyone ever again than have you put space between the two of you again.

romance:

“oh?” the pink haired man asked, a smirk on his face as he crossed his arm and looks at the circle that was drawn around the couch.

“and what have i done to warrant such a violent response from my lover?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, a frown on his face.

“oh, are you talking to me? or the throw pillow beside me?” you answer sarcastically. romance sighs as he walks over to you, his hand reaching out only for him to hiss as the salt barrier burns him.

“it hurts.”

you roll your eyes. “good. i need space.”

romance bites back a smirk, you were so adorable in his eyes that he couldn’t take the frown that was on your face seriously.

“my love are you not aware? distance is only but a means to test how far our love can travel” he places a hand to his chest. “and it hurts me to see you intentionally test our unconditional love.” he sighs dramatically, but you weren’t in the mood.

“do you say this to all the people in your life or am i just lucky?” romance’s brows furrowed in confusion as you don’t play along with him. .

you say nothing as you swiped on your phone and threw it in his direction, your phone hitting him square on the chest. romance takes a look on the screen and sees a gossip blog about him and a huntrix member, the focal point was the fancam of him smirking at her and placing his chin on his hand that was propped on the table.

‘saja boys’ romance… romancing with huntrix’s mira?!’ the article read.

romance takes another look at you who refused to meet his eyes, a small pout on your face as you hugged a throw pillow to your chest.

“lover…” romance trails off. you flick your head to the side. “i really don’t wanna talk to you right now, romance.”

he didn’t think about how his actions would reflect the media, his intentions were only to piss the huntrix member off but it seemed like oblivious fans took it out of context.

“i know that you’re flirty but i thought it was only for me.” you say quietly, still not looking at him. romance frowns, feeling his heart drop to his stomach as you remain saddened by his actions. “it sucks i have other people to share with when it comes to your affection.”

“my love—” romance kneels in front of the couch, a frown on his face as he reaches for you, baring his teeth as the circle burns his skin.

“rome, what are you doing?!”

“trying to reach you, my love.” he says, hissing out his words as you can see the layers of his skin peel, against better judgment, you swipe away at the salt, your lover almost falling face first into the sofa.

“let me see that.” you say, grabbing his hand, clicking your tongue as you examined the burns.

almost in a flash, romance’s skin goes back to normal in front of your very eyes and before you could react, you feel romance intertwine his hand with yours, his other one coming to sandwich your hand between his.

“my lover…” romance trails off, “i apologize for making you feel that way. it was never my intention.” you still wouldn’t look at him. romance, still kneeling, places a kiss on your hand.

“you are the only one to receive the highest severity of my affections. i’m sorry for making you doubt that. thank you for letting me know.” he says as he places another tender kiss on your knuckles, his lips staying on your skin for longer.

“let me make it up to you?”

before you could even respond, he whisks you in his arms, carrying you to your shared bedroom, wrapping you in your fluffy blankets and playing your comfort show as he cuddles you on the bed.

he’d spend his entire lifetime just to show you that only you mattered to him.

mystery:

something about your boyfriend is that he is feral. almost like a rabid dog if you’re being honest. but all rabid dogs eventually soften up and become affectionate to their owners, and it was no doubt that mystery fell into that category, he hated other people but he loved being around you.

however, he shows his love in the form of biting. and (un)fortunately for you, your skin became his favorite chew toy.

your skin became a canvas showcasing different shades of red, blue and purple, teeth indents scattered around from your arm, to your thighs even on your cheeks.

you can barely move without any soreness, and you can’t even be mad. you loved mystery and you loved that he loved you just as equally.

but your body needs a break. you fear that your skin might actually not recover. and it wasn’t as if you haven’t asked your boyfriend nicely. in fact, the fact that they’re just bruises instead of teeth indents was already an improvement.

you just needed a break.

the saja boys arrived back home after a fansigning event, mystery headed straight to his room, where you were in so that he could recharge, only for him to literally fall on his knees as he sees you sleeping on the couch, a ring of salt drawn around it.

you were awoken to a whimper. your bleary eyes blinked to see your boyfriend with a pout on his face as his eyes were trained to you.

“why are you doing this?” you unconsciously pout at the sad tone mystery uses.

“myst, come on. my skin needs a break! there’s more bruises than skin.” you say as you gestured to your arms.

“you know, people would think you’re hurting me.” you say in passing and you can see mystery tense up.

“i would never hurt y—” “i know!” you cut him off, “but walking around with these marks would make people think otherwise.”

“but… that’s my way to show you affection. i love seeing my marks on you.” if mystery were to hypothetically have dog ears, it would be flat against his head right now as he looks at you with a sad expression.

you bit your lip, feeling your resolve chip away as you can see the distance between the two of you affect him.

before you could even think of an appropriate response, mystery hisses as he forces his way in the ring of salt.

“mystery!” you say, moving to break it but mystery snarls at you. “no, i need to know the pain my bites bring you.”

“mystery, your bite only stays for a few days, i don’t need you burning yourself alive for me!” you say as you swiped away the salt, taking mystery in your arms as you tried soothing the burn on his skin.

mystery’s lips tremble. “so… i’m not allowed to bite you anymore?”

you part his bangs, placing a kiss on his forehead, thinking of a compromise.

“how about… whenever you bite me, i bite back? that way, you can feel ” mystery’s head perks up, a small smile forming on his face as he gives you a curt nod.

you moved first, placing a gentle bite on his arm, mystery purrs happily before he chomps down on yours.

“myst, too hard!”

“..sorry.”

needless to say, there was work that needed to be done but the marks on your skin noticeably lessened.

baby:

you knew that baby rarely showed his affection and that the fact that you were his lover should’ve been enough. but lately, it felt like you were the only one exerting effort in your relationship and it was beginning to take a toll on you.

you decided on giving him the same treatment back.

you barely brushed a kiss on his cheek, you don't hug him back when he hugs you goodbye and you even resorted to sleeping in the guest room.

baby thought nothing of it, in fact, when you fall asleep, he sneaks in the guest room to drape an arm on your waist and hold you. but you don’t realize it as he wakes up and leaves before you.

you weren’t getting the point across. actually, baby thought your avoidant ways were adorable.

you needed to change your ways and do something even more drastic.

the saja boys just finished a grueling dance practice and baby wanted nothing to do but rest in your arms, maybe even ask how your day has been.

he was well aware that he was putting strain on your relationship by not giving the effort you deserved. he knows that his upcoming comeback was no excuse. but today marked the last day before the comeback’s release, the group was given a week to recuperate before promotions, and baby knew that he’d spend all ten thousand and eighty minutes glued to you, but who was counting?

he clicks his tongue as he enters the room, seeing a ring of salt around the bed where you lay, scrolling through your phone.

“this is how we’re playing now?” baby asked, you looked up, staring straight at him, voice monotone as you responded.

“go away, baby.”

the blue haired demon only smirks as he rounds the bed, toeing slightly at the salt ring, chuckling as his boot sizzles against it.

“really? where’d you get this technique, the dark web?” he says sarcastically. “are you planning to exorcise me in my sleep too?”

you huff, crossing your arms.

“it’s keeping you away, so it’s working even if you make fun of me!”

“what brought this on, sweetheart?”

“dunno.” you answered, lying down and turning away from him. “go away.”

baby stays quiet, too quiet that you didn’t even know if he was still in the room, but you didn’t wanna turn and check if he’s still inside the room.

you sigh sadly to yourself, you didn’t even know where this back and forth was going because it was obvious to you that baby didn’t see what was wrong and why you were acting that way.

“hey.” you let out a screech as arms wrap around your waist, turning you around and pulling you flush against your boyfriend’s chest.

“w-wh— how? what?” you sputtered out your words as baby smiles mischievously.

“the thing about salt rings is that… there’s always gonna be a portion that’s drawn thinly.” he says as he gestures towards the foot of the bed.

“seems like you overlooked that, babe.” you clicked your tongue but went limp in his hold nonetheless.

“now,“ baby starts. “do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing on your skin. you don’t face him as you answer.

“i felt like i was being neglected by you.” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “and i didn’t know how to bring it up because you were always so busy and–” baby cuts you off with a soft kiss on your forehead.

“‘m sorry.” he says, voice matching yours. “it was unfair to you, i know. i’ll do better.” you couldn’t shake the sincerity from his voice as he forces you to look at his golden eyes.

“you’re always welcome to talk to me, i’ll make time for you, always, okay?” he presses a kiss on your chin, “i’m sorry.” a kiss on your cheek.

“i’ll do better.” another kiss on your forehead.

“i don’t deserve you.” finally, a kiss on your lips. you reciprocate, not knowing that tears were slowly slipping from your closed eyes.

you didn’t realize that you were overthinking for nothing and that you didn’t need to go to such lengths, but baby understands. baby made an oath to himself to never make you feel this way again.

he promises to never be the cause of your tears ever again.

note/s: can you tell i lost the plot somewhere around baby's part... i'm sorry i'll do better in other fics ik this isn't my best one lol BUT if you have any saja boys requests feel free to drop them in my inbox! i wanna write more but no prompt is coming to mind </3

7K notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 16 days ago

Text

🎤

22K notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 16 days ago

Text

Dick being an ass is my favourite thing

Commission Info / Kofi (Members get comics a week early)

13K notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 19 days ago

Text

THERE'S A ROOM WHERE THE LIGHT WON'T FIND YOU

Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down When they do, I'll be right behind you

Synopsis. It is inconceivable that you love them. How? Why? Please, don't stop.

Including. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Shiu, Sukuna, Yuuji and Megumi.

Risk assessment rated T. Make out and kissing, some teasing, some strong language.

a/n: per usual, the text thread that prompts these drabbles is down here:

YOU LOVE ME? I DON'T UNDERSTAND

GOJO SATORU— "LET ME LOVE YOU ANYWAY"

His voice is muffled when you let yourself in—barely audible behind the cracked door of his room, just a whisper to himself.

"She said she loves me," he mutters, like it's a dream. Like it's something he has to turn over in his mouth, test on his tongue, because he's never sure what it's supposed to taste like.

You push open the door gently.

Satoru's sitting on the edge of his bed, hair tousled from running his fingers through it, the tips of his ears pink. He startles when he sees you—not because you're here, but because he didn't expect to be heard.

You kneel in front of him. Place your hands on his knees, feel the tremble of restraint in his thighs like he's holding himself back from reaching for you.

"I mean it," you say softly.

He looks at you like it hurts to be seen. "You shouldn't. I'm—"

"Stop." You crawl into his lap, straddling him with care. "You don't have to earn it. You don't have to make sense of it. It's not a calculation."

He exhales, ragged. His fingers hover at your waist, unsure.

"You think you're too much 'Toru," you whisper against his cheek, "but all I see is someone who's had to carry too much alone."

"I'm scared," he admits, like he's never said it out loud before. "If I let you love me… what if I mess it up?"

"Then I'll still love you," you say simply. "Because it's not about being perfect. It's about you. Just you."

You press a kiss to his temple. His jaw. His lips—slow and lingering, like you're giving him all the time in the world to believe it.

And when his trembling hands finally grab onto you, holding you like he's terrified to let go? It's not rough. It's not cocky. It's not the Satoru he shows to the world.

It's just him. Yours. Needy, tender, breaking apart in your arms because someone finally stayed just because, with no hidden agenda, or trophy tag to put on him.

You stayed just because you loved him.

GETO SUGURU—"THE PIECES OF YOU"

There's a silence in the room that speaks louder than either of you.

You find Suguru sitting in the dim light of his apartment, long hair loose around his shoulders, a cup of untouched tea on the table beside him. He doesn't look at you when you enter. He's staring at his hands—the ones that have held too many weapons, too much grief, too many regrets.

"You shouldn't say thinks like that," he says, voice quiet.

You move towards him without hesitation. "Like what?"

"That you love me."

He says it like it's a lie.

You kneel beside him, resting your hands gently over his. "But I do."

He flinches. You can feel it—the twitch of a man who is used to bracing for impact, even in affection.

"Why?" he asks, voice cracked. "You know what I've done. Who I've been."

"I do," you whisper. "And I love you. All the same."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours—and there it is: the storm in his eyes. Years of hiding, years of shouldering loneliness because he believed he didn't deserved to be chosen.

"Say it again," he breathes, like he needs to test the words in your mouth to make sure they're real.

You rise to your knees, cup his face in both hands, and say it like a vow.

"I love you."

His mouth is on yours before the words even finish leaving your lips—desperate, questioning, like he's still not sure if he's allowed to want this.

But you let him take. Let him hold. Let him break just enough to rebuild.

And when you pull away, you press your forehead to his and promise again: "You don't have to earn me. You just have to be here."

He nods slowly. Like he might believe it this time.

NANAMI KENTO—"SLOW BURN, SURE FLAME"

When you enter the kitchen, Nanami is standing at the stove in sweatpants and a white t-shirt. The soft glow of the under-cabinet lights outlines the planes of his back, the quiet steadiness of a man who always does everything with care.

You don't say anything. You just wrap your arms around him from behind and rest your cheek between his shoulder blades. He sighs—not with exasperation, but like he's letting himself exhale for the first time in a long day.

"You always hold me like I matter," he says softly.

"Because you do."

He turns slowly, until you're in front of him. Until his hands rest carefully at your waist, like he still doesn't believe he has the right to touch you too freely.

"You know I'm not…" He hesitates, eyes flicking to yours. "I'm not flashy. I don't come with surprises or grand gestures."

"I don't want surprises," you say. "I want you."

His brow knits, gaze searching your face like he's looking for a catch. A trick. Some proof that this can't be real—not for a man like him.

"I've always been people someone rely on," he murmurs. "Not someone people love."

Your fingers trace his side of his jaw, thumb brushing over the faint stubble. "Then let me be the first to do both."

For a moment, he says nothing—just looks at you like you've changed the laws of gravity.

Then, finally, he leans in. Kisses you like it's a promise he's been too afraid to make until now—deep, unhurried, adoring. Like you are the rarest thing he's ever been allowed to have.

And for one, he lets himself believe he can.

FUSHIGURO TOJI—"HARD TO LOVE, EASY TO NEED"

The door creaks open with a reluctant groan, and there he is.

Toji stands shirtless in sweatpants, hair still damp from a shower, eyes heavy with something darker than exhaustion. He doesn't step aside right away. Just stares at you like you're a ghost.

"You really came," he mutters.

"I said I would."

He lets you in with a sigh, rubbing a hand over the neck. The apartment is dim, quiet. The air carries the scent of his cologne and something warm from the kitchen—probably food he made and forgot to eat.

"You shouldn't say stuff like that," he says, finally, arms crossed, jaw tight. "That you love me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll start wanting to believe it."

You walk toward him slowly, like approaching a wounded animal, and press your hand to his chest. "Then believe it."

His laugh is soft, humorless. "You know what kind of a man I am."

"I know you're the man who checks if I locked my door even when you're not staying over. The one who leaves his jacket when I say I'm cold. The one who holds me like I'm the only good thing he's allowed to touch."

His breath stutters.

"Toji…" you say, much gentler now. "You don't have to keep pushing me away just to protect me. I chose you."

He doesn't kiss you right away.

He grabs you—pulls you in like a man who's been starving, desperate, wrecked with longing. It's teeth and lips and breathless need, his hands on your face like he's trying to hold something too fragile, too fleeting.

"Say it again," he growls into your mouth.

"I love you."

"Fuck—" His voice breaks. "You're the one thing I never thought I'd get to have."

"And now?"

His forehead rests against yours. "Now I'll die before I let anyone take it away."

KONG SHIU—"EVEN THE SNAKE CAN BE HELD"

You don't knock.

You never have to. You have a key—a privilege you know he pretends to be annoyed by but secretly hasn't revoked.

Shiu's on the couch when you find him, cigarette dangling between his fingers, ashtray full, TV muted. His hair's still damp from a shower, sweatpants slung low on his hips, and his face is… unreadable.

"Why'd you say that?" he asks, voice low, not even looking at you.

"Because it's true."

"Don't bullshit me."

You cross the room and take the cigarette from his hand, snuff it out. "I'm not."

He finally looks at you, and the sharp sarcasm he usually hides behind is gone. What's left is… raw. Vulnerable in a you've never seen on him.

"I don't know what the hell to do with love like that."

You kneel between his knees, hands sliding gently up to his thighs until they rest at his hips. "Then let me show you."

He swallows hard. "People don't say that to me. They say I'm cold. Dangerous. They don't love me."

"I'm not people."

His hands ghost over your back, then pull you in—slow, like he's giving himself permission. You straddle his lap, arms wrapping around his neck, your forehead brushing his.

"I love you," you whisper again.

He exhales like you've knocked the wind out of him. "Fuck. That's insane."

You smile. "And yet."

When he kisses you, it's messy, unpracticed in the tenderness of it. But there's fire behind it. The kind that only comes from years of denying himself the possibility of being wanted. He kisses like he's afraid that you'll disappear—and desperate to leave a mark if you do.

He pulls back, breathless. "You really want this?"

You kiss the corner of his mouth. "I want you. Every complicated, prickly, morally gray inch of you."

"… Don't fucking die on me," he mutters, brushing your hair behind your ear with more reverence than you expected.

"I'm not planning to."

He grins. "Then I might just let myself fall."

RYOMEN SUKUNA—"YOU SHOULDN'T, BUT YOU DO"

His throne room is dark when you enter.

Flickering light from the sconces dances across crimson stones, casting long shadows—and there he is, Sukuna, reclined like a god, hand resting on his chin in faux boredom. But the moment he sees you, the sharp cut of his smirk betrays something more: anticipation.

"You really came," he drawls.

"You asked for me."

He stands slowly, muscles shifting under his robes like the promise of a storm. "Say it again."

You blink. "Say what?"

"That ridiculous thing." He stalks toward you. "That blasphemous, insane little sentence."

You meet him halfway. "I love you."

A snarl rips through him—not anger, but disbelief. His hands grip your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You're a fucking fool."

"Maybe," you whisper, "but I'm your fool."

He kisses you like it's punishment. Like he's trying to scare the love out of you. Tongue, teeth, a bruising press of want and rage and need. But you don't flinch.

You melt.

And that's what makes him break.

He lifts you—as if you're made of air—and sets you on his throne. He doesn't kneel, not fully. Sukuna doesn't bow. But his hand on your thigh is reverent, his breath hot against your neck as he growls, "You don't get to run now."

"I wasn't going to."

"Then prove it," he hisses, dragging his fangs against your skin. "Tell me again while I devour you. Say it while I fuck that love into your bones."

You gasp as his mouth descends, voice shaking. "I love you."

And the smirk he gives you is feral.

"You're mine now, foolish girl. Every inch. Every beat of that traitorous little heart."

And you swear—in that dark, ancient chamber, held in his unholy hands—that he's never looked more worshipful.

ITADORI YUJI—"YOU MAKE ME FEEL LUCKY"

You hear the pounding on your door before you even finish setting your phone down. When you open it, Yuji stands there, chest heaving, eyes wide and wild.

"I ran," he says, breatheless. "Full sprint."

You blink. "You… ran?"

"Like, Olympic level. I think I broke a record."

You can't help but laugh, leaning on the doorframe. "All that for a little 'I love you?'"

He stares at you, flustered to hell. "Little? That wasn't little! That was—! That was—!"

He throws his hands up. "Life-changing!"

Your smile softens. "Yuji…"

Before he can spiral again, you pull him inside by the front of his hoodie, and he fumbles until he has you in his arms—hugging you so tight you squeak.

"You really mean it?" he whispers into your hair.

You nod against his chest. "I love you, Itadori Yuji."

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes shine, stunned and overjoyed.

Then he kisses you—sweet, warm, messy with emotion—like he's been dying to do it forever.

His palms frame your face, and you feel him smile mid-kiss. When he pulls away, he whispers, "I'm gonna kiss you every day now. You started this. No take backs."

You giggle. "Deal."

And he kisses you again.

And again.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI—"AND STILL, YOU CHOOSE ME"

The room is dim, quiet. He's sitting on the edge of the bed when you arrive, arms folded, posture tense—like he's waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under him.

You step closer, but not too fast. "Hey."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. There's something fragile behind it, like he's still waiting for this to be a joke.

"You didn't have to come," he murmurs.

"I wanted to."

"I don't understand," he says quietly. "You could have anyone. Why me?"

You step between his legs, cupping his jaw gently. "Because I see you. Megumi. Because when you're quiet, I hear you anyway. Because I know how good your heart is, even when you don't."

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, as if overwhelmed by how soft you're being.

"That's dangerous," he mutters.

"What is?"

"Letting myself believe you."

"Then let it be dangerous," you whisper, brushing your forehead against his. "I'm not going anywhere."

He breathes in—shaky, deep—then kisses you like he needs you to survive.

It starts tentative. Careful. But the moment you sigh into it, his hands find your waist, pull you closer, grounding himself in your warmth.

When he pulls away, eyes dark with emotion, he whispers, "don't take it back."

"Never," you promise.

He kisses you again.

This time, like he believes you.

210 notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 20 days ago

Text

109 notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 1 month ago

Text

For all of the northerners that stood up for Texas during our freeze and said, "Don't make fun of them, they've never dealt with this before. Their infrastructure isn't made for snow and freezing."

This one is for you.

Where I live 108°F with 80% humidity with no wind is normal.

Pacific North West is dealing historic best waves 35-40°C or 95-105°F.

First of all. Don't make fun of them for bitching about the heat. Just like Texas isn't built for a freeze and our pipes burst, Pacific North West isn't built for heat and a lot of their homes don't have AC.

If you live somewhere with a high humidity like 80+ HUMIDITY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. The "humidity makes it feel cooler" is a lie once it gets beyond a point.

If you live somewhere with a lower humidity, misters are nice to cool off outside.

Once you get over 90°F (32°C) a fan will not help you. It's just pushing around hot air. (I mean if you can't afford a small AC unit because they're expensive as hell, by all means a fan is better than nothing).

If you have pets, those portable AC units aren't safe. If your pets destroy the outtake thing, it'll leak CO2. Window units are safer.

Window AC units will let mosquitoes or other small bugs in. Sucks, but that's life.

Now is not the time to me modest. If you have to cover for religious reasons, by all means. If you don't, I've seen people wear short shorts and a swim top. It's not trashy if it keeps you from getting heat stroke.

If you do have to cover up for religious reasons, look for elephant pants or something similar. They're made with a breathable material.

Shade is better than no shade, but that shit it just diet sun after some point. Don't think shade will save you from heat stroke.

I know the "drink your water" is a fun meme now, but if you're sweating excessively you need electrolytes. Drink Gatorade, Powerade, or Pedialite PLEASE. I don't care if you're fucking sitting in one spot all day. That shit WILL save you from heat stroke.

Most importantly. RESEARCH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HEAT STROKE AND HEAT EXHAUSTION PLEASE!

If you're diabetic and can't drink Gatorade, mix water, fruit juice, and either lite salt or pink salt

If you can afford it, cover windows with thick curtains to insulate the house

If you have tile floors, lay on them with skin to tile contact. If you don't, laying your head on cool counters works too.

If the temperature where you're at is hotter than your body temperature, don't wear heat wicking clothing. Moisture wicking is safe though.

Check your medication labels. Many make you more susceptible to sun and heat

-Room temperature water will get into your body faster. This is something I learned doing marching band in high summer in Georgia, and it saved all of our asses. Sip it, don't gulp it, especially if you're getting into the red; same goes for whatever fluid you're drinking. And just in general drink during the day.

-If you are moving from an air conditioned space to an un-air conditioned space, if at all possible try to make the shift gradual. When my dad and I were working outside and in un-ac houses a few years ago, he'd turn the air down to low in the truck about ten-fifteen minutes before we got where we were going. This way your body doesn't go from low low temps to high temps. S'bad for you.

-If you can, keep your lights off during the day. Light bulbs may not generate a lot of heat, but the difference is noticeable when it gets hot enough. I literally only turn my bedroom light on in the evening when it gets too dark.

Don't be afraid to just like... pour water on yourself if you need to. The evaporation will cool you off.

Put your hand to the cement for 15 seconds. If you can't handle the heat, it'll burn your dog's paws. Don't let them walk on it.

Dogs with flat faces are more prone to heat stroke. Don't leave them out unsupervised.

Frozen fruit is delicious in water.

Wet/Cold hat/handkerchief on your head/neck will help you stay cool.

Pickle juice is great for electrolytes! You can even make pickle juice Popsicles!

Heat exhaustion is more, "drink water and get you cooled off." Heat stroke is more "Oh my god call 911."

Image Description provided by @loveize

[Image description: an infographic showing the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. The graphic is labeled "Heat Dangers: First Warning." Signs of heat exhaustion: faint or dizzy, excessive sweating, cool, pale, clammy skin, rapid, weak pulse, muscle cramps. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat exhaustion, get to a cool, air-conditioned place, drink water if conscious, and take a cool shower or use cold compress. Signs of heat stroke: throbbing headache, no sweating, red, hot, dry skin, rapid, strong pulse, may lose consciousness. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat stroke, call 911. End description]

Be safe.

-fae

156K notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 1 month ago

Text

i’m clearing out my camera roll and i found this and immediately i was like you guys need to see it too

200 notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 2 months ago

Text

I love this so much

okay official Scooby tiktok i'll give you this one

6K notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 3 months ago

Note

Oooo I have a request if that's still okay. I have like constantly been thinking about like the fluff possibilities of like winding down after a mission with Tan (or the Twins together). Just the vibes of being in some random terrible hotel and trying to wind down from the adrenaline of the mission.

(I dont know if that is enough for a request, it's probrably more of a drabble unless you get hit with inspiration of the gods. But no pressure to write it, it's just been in my brain lately)

Also I hope you're doing okay❤️❤️❤️

OOUHHH YEAA!! love it!! thanks for requesting 💌

ADAPT.

idk how to tag this, but implied tan x reader at the end?? but lots of lemon involved. idk im confused myself😭

wc. 1033 no warnings. just some blood mentions but it’s nothing really

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Desperate times call for desperate measures. It always has, especially in the field you work in. You have to be able to adapt constantly, change your plans at a drop of the hat.

And while this situation seemed catastrophic to your fairly new team, it was far less dire than they made it out to be: your mishap with bookings at the hotel — somehow reserving a room for a year in advance. Simple mistake really; it was late. You were tired, you were in the car when searching for hotels, you pulled your muscle, your phone was dying, the list was endless.

The twins were notably disappointed to hear that the hotel was fully booked, the spa across the lobby acting like a giant slap in the face to them. While you too were disappointed, you were rather embarrassed: your first time taking charge of accommodation only for it to be fumbled.

And so you had to adapt, put that motto into place for the dozenth time today. You found a shabby run down motel online that’s only a couple miles away, though it didn’t look the best. While this was a foreign country to you, this is work, not a holiday. There was nothing else available so it should have to do.

Tangerine pulls into the car park, exchanging a couple glances with Lemon in the passenger seat beside him. And with your seat in the back, you had a rather clear view of their disgust for the motel. Yes, it was utterly disgusting, but it did sting to see their contempt.

The rental car pulls to a halt and you jump out, heading for the main office — practically welcoming the idea for the brothers to have a bitching session about you.

You collect the keys and head back to the car, knocking on Tangerine’s window, motioning for him to slide it down.

“So, more bad news,” you start, looking between either brother. “Could only get one room. There’s something going on in town this weekend, so they’re fully booked up. I couldn’t really understand him, but I think that's what he said anyway.”

Lemon’s head theatrically back forward from the news and Tangerine just sighs, a deep exhalation of air as if to tell you he wasn’t too pleased. They pause briefly, like they were gathering the courage before finally unbuckling their seat belts.

You step back from the driver’s door and head to the boot, pulling out all your bags. They join you moments later and grab their overnight bags from the floor, slinging them over their shoulders.

“Right, which one is our shit heap?” Tangerine asks, looking around.

“Better not be that one,” Lemon mumbles, pointing at the door with the flickering light ahead, a suspicious box sitting outside.

You look down at the key, trying to read the number though it's hard to see with its worn use. “Number nine?” you question, tilting it towards the street light to get a better look.

You all walk forwards in search of the room and lo and behold — it does get worse. It's the one that Lemon very vocally shared his distaste over, that same spiel continuing as you get closer to your room for the night. Though Tangerine is quiet, his brain sure to be loud with thoughts that may be too unkind to share.

You put the key into the door and open it slowly, making sure there isn't someone or something in there. The twins cock their guns behind you, pointing their barrels into the darkness of the room while you search for the light switch.

“Fuck me,” Tangeine mumbles, taking in the room.

You’re rather stunned too, the appearance of the motel inside somehow worse than the appearance outside.

“Someone definitely died in here,” Lemon proclaims, looking around. “Right here, I reckon,” he points to a brown patch on the rusty red carpet beside the bed. “Christ! Look at that! That’s got to be blood.”

“Fucking hell,” Tangerine continues to mutter, glancing over the state of the walls. Bright yellow wallpaper peeling and cracking at the sight. “This is dreadful. Proper dreadful.”

“We’re gonna be killed tonight, I just know it,” Lemon continues.

“This is bad.”

“Gonna die with my last meal being a shit, warm sandwich from a service station.”

“Good god.”

Their muttering voices begin to dwindle and finally they turn to you still standing by the door, their faces simultaneously softening when they spot how unimpressed you look. How almost upset you are by their words. You knew you messed up, but they did not have to go on and on about it.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

They glance between each other in that way siblings often do, communicating without words essentially. And then they walk towards you, hands reaching for either arm to give them a lighthearted shake.

“It’s just been a long day, that's all,” Tangerine speaks up, trying to make light of the situation.

“It’s really not that bad,” Lemon grimaces with the lie, his face unable to sell fib.

You laugh, shaking your head quickly. “No, it really is terrible.”

“It’s vile.”

“I’m not even gonna be able to sleep a wink.”

“Should we sleep in the car… or?” you prosopse and Lemon immediately bolts for the door rushing to the rental out front.

You and Tangerine look between yourselves and smile at the antics. And as you go to step out of the room, Tangerine stops you — calling your name.

“Hey uh,” he rubs over his arm, seeming to stall. “I hope we weren’t being too hard on you.”

You turn to look at him and your smile widens. “I know,” you nod. “Just been a long day.”

“Right.”

You reply with another nod and itch away slowly, heading out into the night and for the office once more. And as you turn around, you see him lingering in the frame of the door, gaze following you like he was looking after you — visually surveilling your safety as you walk through the unfamiliar car park.

Well that's what he told himself anyway, that it was about your safety. Lemon’s view from beside the car painting a different picture.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

68 notes · View notes

trappist1-d · 3 months ago

Text

A FAMILIAR FAILURE.

tangerine x fem!reader

wc. 929 synopsis. you're fairly used to your father's failure to fulfil plans. tonight, yet another arrangement falls short, and tangerine is there once again to pick up the pieces cw. father issues (duh) hurt comfort bc it's my fav // I haven't been able to write anything for so long, so it's only fitting I go back to my roots

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Expectations of others are always such a finicky feeling. It’s easy to let your brain run rampant with hopes of those around you, and it’s just as easy to watch those said hopes crumple into a bundle of disappointment.

You had become well acquainted with the feeling of despondency over the years, often welcoming the possibility of being disappointed before any such plans were to fall through. But it’s never like you were asking for too much, rather simply that others were not offering enough.

So, when you received a message from your dad earlier in the week organising dinner at a restaurant, you remained skeptical, keeping the idea in mind that it’s likely that no such plans were to happen. With your father, you knew it was silly to cling onto arrangements — your past with him teaching you as such.

And when the day finally arrived, you waited. You waited and you waited, sitting on the small ledge of the doorstep, staring down the driveway in hopes you’d see a set of headlights soon. In hopes that you’d be proved wrong.

You see a shadow cast on the gravel by your feet, your lover’s silhouette looming in the light of the hallway behind.

“It’s nearly half past, love,” Tangerine says quietly, speaking like the words pained him to say.

You hum absentmindedly as you nod, merely acknowledging him.

“I can wait with you,” he offers, hesitant footing keeping him in place.

It's as if he’s viewing a concoction of your prior life stages all merged into one. Like he’s watching a four year old version of you waiting on the steps of the front door, sitting on one of your first heartbreaks. An eleven year old you once again on the steps, awaiting him to show for a trip to the museum. The contempt growing in the heart of your sixteen year old self when plans fell through yet again. Your dad’s lack of arrival being the root cause to all those moments of anguish.

It was truly a saddening sight on his part — watching you fall into an all too familiar habit.

“I knew it,” you whisper to yourself, head hanging low.

You hear Tangerine sigh faintly from behind, the heavy feel of his hand on your shoulder following after the sound. He rubs it briefly before stepping around you, taking a seat beside you on the cold concrete.

He stills, seeming to be unsure of how to comfort you with words — knowing that words very may well feel pointless to you by now. And so, he silently slips his hand into yours, guiding it to his lap.

“I’m disappointed for you too, darlin’,” he says softly, his thumb drawing small circles into your skin. “I really thought he’d show.”

Though that part was a lie; Tangerine knew that man is not one for change. But he could not aid the hurt in your heart by sharing his pessimistic thoughts. He had to pretend for the sake of you.

“I didn’t,” you humorously scoff, head shaking as you stare at the stones on the ground between your feet. “He’s full of shit.”

Before long, those scoffs had turned into small, faint sobs — the switch ever so subtle it could go unnoticed. But that’s not the man you married. Tan will forever pick up on the smallest changes within you.

“Hey hey hey hey,” he draws out, offering his comfort with soft coos. “Come here,” he releases your hand, placing it on your furthest shoulder to pull you into him. “Come on,” he mutters, briskly rubbing up and down the upper of your arm. His loving touch an effort to replace the hateful feeling in your heart.

He rests the side of his head atop of yours as he pulls you into his side. It’s like he’s trying to maximise his presence, make it known to you that he himself, is there.

You couldn’t quite figure out why you were so upset. You knew it was more than likely for this evening to end in tears for you, and yet, it didn’t make the feeling any easier to stomach. Maybe the disappointment was felt more so in yourself, as opposed to your father — being so overtly aware that you had fallen into that trap of hope and wonder once again.

“Let me take you out,” Tangerine's voice interrupts your string of thought — the interference appreciated on both parts.

“Where?” you ask, peering around slightly to look at him.

“Wherever you’d like to go, my love,” he smiles sadly, head tilting to see more of you. He extends his spare hand towards your face, thumb gently flicking away the wet under your eyes. “I’ll take you wherever,” he repeats, voice warmly stern — ingraining into you the promise he won’t fall short on.

“Can we just drive around for a bit instead?”

He nods certainly, the action juxtaposing the fragility of his expression. “Go pick,” he nods across the way, gesturing to his collection of a dozen cars on the driveway.

Finally a smile.

“Uh…” you squint, trying to see in the night's sky. “The green one.”

“The Bentley?” he smiles, following your eyeline. It would probably be his choice too.

Tangerine stands, groaning slightly in that way he often does, and turns to face you. His hands reach for yours and he pulls you up onto your feet, guiding you just that bit closer to him. Pressing a quick kiss to your lips, he nods inside — gesturing into the house.

“Go put on something comfy. I’ll get the keys.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

180 notes · View notes