[flowersbloominthedark]

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About Me → hey everyone! you can call me jay my pronouns are she/her, i i am a virgo sun,entj, this blog is 16+!

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whats jay listening to → glimpse of us

Just Posted → Jays Cruel Summer Event

[tahdashi-deactivated20260406]

what was deepika’s lil side quest at the world cup i was so ??:!!!.! hey girl!

[izu]

i miss my babies

[jaegersmoon]

CHAINSAW MAN DAY!!!!!! <3333333 I’M SO MF EXCITED, BUT I'M ALSO NOT READY TO SHARE MY MAN AKI. TF. HE'S BEEN MINE SINCE 2021. ON LOCK AND SHIT.

Anime only’s will never understand what it is to fall in love with a black and white drawing inside panels 😭😭😭😭

[hakkikun]

😭😭😭

[ruinsmami]

im in a good place rn. not emotionally. just in my room

[sattosugu]

JUJUTSU KASIEN SEASON 2 KEY VISUALS

HIDDEN INVENTORY  ARC + SHIBUYA ARC

[lovesatoru]

IT’S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND — JEAN KIRSTEIN (CHAPTER ONE)

CONTENT: canon compliant, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of angst, lots of fluff, fem!reader, you grew up in trost with jean, follows your relationship throughout the plot of aot, slowburn, mutual-pining.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

A/N: first fic back!! I’ve actually had this saved for a long time, but I’m finally ready to share this fic. It’s my favorite thing I’ve ever written and it will likely be two or three parts by the time it’s fully done!

my masterlist | chapter two

Your third-grade classmates pushed and shoved as they ran out of the classroom and into the bitter, cold outside, occasionally a few of them bumped into you while you were still preparing to head out. They were eager to get out into the snow, shouting about pelting eachother with snowballs and trying desperately to catch snowflakes on their tongues. You had taken your time, carefully buttoning up your big, warm coat just like your mother always did in the winter mornings before you headed to school. After checking to make sure each button was done correctly, you then grab the scarf sitting on top of your desk, wrapping it tightly around yourself. Now you were all ready to head out, thinking of how proud your mother will be that you made sure you were bundled up, just like she asked you.

Keep reading

[flowersbloominthedark]

THIS IS LITERALLY IS THE BEST THING EVER TO BE CREATED

[missmeinyourbones]

NIGHT SHIFT 

a/n: (wc: 1k) gojo x reader, angst, i literally do not know what this is but i was listening to lucy dacus then this happened, not proofread we die like men

Contrary to popular belief, Satoru has never been good with his words. Not when it truly matters, at least.

A silver-tongue when it comes to all forms of mischief, he’s impressive at worming himself out of sticky situations. However, this is all the less impressive when you learn that his quick-witted remarks are usually what get him into those same situations. Oh, the double edged sword that is Gojo Satoru’s way with words.

Sometimes, he’s decent with them. He can convince you to stay in bed with him on those chilly winter mornings, turning five more minutes into twenty and a phone call into work feigning ill. He can persuade you to take a midnight trip to the bakery with him, indulging in sweets that would have your dentist going into cardiac arrest at the mere thought. He can recite the Jujutsu High handbook verbatim with ease, having memorized all of the rules he goes out of his way to ignore and diminish.

Always the loose-lipped loudmouth, it’s safe to say that he says a lot of things. 

On the contrary, one thing the great Gojo Satoru can’t say is I love you. 

Keep reading

[flowersbloominthedark]

Sobbing.

[flowersbloominthedark]

No who let Taylor Swift write folklore.

[191717718817188191929-deactivat]

hope I am not just a mutual to you but also your parasocial best friend who you have never spoken to

[reearchives]

THIS JOURNAL BELONGS TO JEAN

⤷ CHARACTERS: jean kirstein

⤷ PAIRINGS: jean kirstein x black!reader

⤷ WARNINGS: none, some cursing but that's really it.

⤷ WC : 0.5k

⤷ AUTHOR'S NOTE : i've never done a love letter story before and I'm kinda nervous but kinda excited on how far I'll go with this story, oh and prologues is a little taste of what's to come. <3

⤷ TAGS : @megurulvr , @luvirenee

MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

(NEXT)

Dear Journal, 

She looked so beautiful today out on the field, I try not to miss her lacrosse games, I know they mean a lot to her. I will always come to her games. 

It’s sunny outside today, a cool 79 -80 degrees, and they're playing against Sina College, one of our rivals from over East somewhere. She always looks so happy when she plays, I’m glad I can always be the one she calls when she needs help or someone to talk to. It’s also painful because I want to be more than friends? I wanna be more than “Jean you are literally the bestest friend ever?” you know? I swear I can be more than that.

But no, I won’t jeopardize what I have with her, I love her too much to let her go, what if she doesn’t accept the feelings I have for her back?? I would like so stupid, not only did I lose my love, I lose my friend. What gets me is that she tells me that I’m the only person that makes her feel safe but then says best friend, like what?? That shit makes me so hot.

Man.

What. Am.I. Going. To. Do

Eren thinks I be tripping, he be saying man don’t worry about it, and then we fight about it because Eren doesn’t get it. He hasn’t got friend zoned before. This girl literally makes me wanna rip my facial hair off my face because I wanna tell her that I love her and I need her in my life but she be acting stupid as fuck.

I’m not calling her stupid but FUCK, this is why I’m here. 

10:37 at night and I’m supposed to be studying for my exam and I’m here writing in this journal Connie gave me because he thinks beating on my phone keyboard is distracting, like me writing it down is gonna make me feel better but here I am. Writing.

I remember me and her went to go get our first tattoos together, she held my hand because she was scared of needles. Or when she asked me to go to the park with her so she can practice her catching with her lacrosse stick. 

I’ve been there, I’ve always been there and I just want her to just…

To want me just as much as I want her and it kills me inside to know that I’m just her best friend. 

Call me crazy but if I saw her marry someone else, I’d probably kill him, and have Sasha and Connie dispose of his ass somewhere. And I know that sounds crazy, and I know that sound possessive and I know that sounds like I’m a yandere or something but i’m not.

I just can’t stand that she’ll end up with someone else that isn’t me.

So journal…

I just wanna say that you’ll be my best friend, my therapist, my brother, my sister, my something to keep me from going insane because of this girl.

Oh shit!

She just face-timed me, gotta go.

Call me crazy but I think I found the love of my life.

©2022 reelayrace ━ all rights reserved. comments, likes, and reblog are highly appreciated. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[flowersbloominthedark]

I’m obsessed 💪

[iknowitwontwork]

i don't like:

a gold rush

anticipating my face in a red flush

that anyone would die to feel your touch

slow motion double vision in rose blush

that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

[reearchives]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 // 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍

LET IT BURN MASTERLIST

SUMMARY

⤷ Let's follow the story of a young man who fell in love with his girl best friend. Jean doesn't know how to express his feelings toward her so he writes love letters to express how he feels.

⤷ "call me crazy but I think I found the love of my life"

WARNINGS, AU, PAIRINGS, TAGS

⤷ cursing, use of the n-word because y/n is black, mentions of weed & alcohol, suggestive themes, sensitive topics & lovey dovey shit.

⤷ modern au! , college-based au.

⤷ jean kirstein x black!reader

⤷ tags : @megurulvr , @luvirenee

CHAPTERS

⤷ 000

⤷ 001

⤷ 002

⤷ 003

⤷ 004

⤷ 005

⤷ COMING SOON

EXTRAS

⤷ playlist

⤷ series taglist form

author's note: yes i will continue run it up , i just like to add to my masterlist and give me options to write different things.

©2022 reelayrace ━ all rights reserved. comments, likes, and reblog are highly appreciated. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[thenighttrain]

i love you the 1 i love you cardigan i love you the last great american dynasty i love you exile i love you my tears ricochet i love you mirrorball i love you seven i love you august i love you this is me trying i love you illicit affairs i love you invisible string i love you mad woman i love you epiphany i love you betty i love you peace i love you hoax i love you the lakes i love you folklore

[mrs-kurooo-deactivated20240222]

— BUTTER | osamu x desi!reader

-> synopsis: saturday mornings like this are special

-> cw: food

-> wc: 1k

-> a/n: osamu 🤝🏽 food as a love language

When he wakes up, it’s to an empty bed and golden sunlight pouring into your bedroom. Though it gently warms his bare torso, he craves the kind of warmth that comes from you, pressed against him, skin to skin. As he sits up, he can distantly hear something sizzling, before the smell hits him. There’s something heavy with spice hanging in the air, and it can only mean one thing - you’re making breakfast. He scrambles out of bed, and hurries to the kitchen, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste, hoping to catch sight of you humming away at the stove.

You see. one of Osamu’s favourite things about Saturday mornings is in fact breakfast, unsurprisingly. As much as he loves cooking for you and sharing the memories and flavours that he grew up with, watching you cook for him is something else entirely. And being able to enjoy the fruits of your labour? Osamu must have done something heroic in his past life to be able to experience this.

You’re dressed in one of his t-shirts, hair pushed back haphazardly to keep it out of your face as you drift around the kitchen with a practiced ease, comfortable in the space the two of you have spent ages perfecting when you moved in. There’s pieces of both of you in here, and it’s undoubtedly his favourite part of your home.

He leans back against the doorframe, watching on fondly as you scoop up a palmful of dough and begin pushing it against the heel of your palm to form it into a perfect little ball. He’s seen this much before, but now you’re reaching a tub of something speckled with greens and reds and his curiosity is piqued.

“What’s that?” You grin, sleep still lingering around his eyes when you turn to look at him.

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.”

“Morning.” You giggle at the grumble in the back of his throat. “What is it?” he repeats, padding into the kitchen.

“Potatoes.” He cocks his head to the side as he approaches you to get a closer look. Sure enough, the plastic tub is full of mashed potatoes, riddled with spices and herbs.

“Oh? What are you doing with them?” he asks, resting his head on your shoulder so he can watch.

“It’s a stuffing.”

“For a… Paratha?” The new words you’re teaching him still feel strange on his tongue, but Osamu is nothing if not determined to learn something new about the food you love.

“Yep.” His eyes are fixated on how you add a generous amount of the filling inside the dough, before pinching it closed so that it’s fully encased.

“‘S like making onigiri or gyoza,” he observes quietly, wrapping his arms around your middle.

“Yeah, it kinda is,” you agree, adding more flour to your dough ball to prevent it from sticking as you begin to roll it out. It’s about 10 inches in diameter when you set the rolling pin aside and reach for the butter. Generously, you spread some over the surface of the dough before flipping it expertly in your hands and throwing it onto a smoking hot pan. There’s a resounding sizzle as it comes into contact with the heat.

“Smells good,” he mumbles absently, kissing at your shoulder.

“Go sit, l’m almost done.” He hums, long and thoughtful, before he brushes another kiss higher, on the curve of your neck, peppering them slowly up to your jaw, ignoring your playful yet warning tone. “Samu.”

“Hm?” He’s too distracted by your soft skin, tugging you in tighter against his chest as his lips reach your cheek.

“Can I finish up?” He mumbles something that sounds like a yes against the corner of your mouth but his hold doesn’t loosen. With a sigh, you let him do as he pleases, leaning forward to flip his paratha and add more butter. It’s difficult, what with him practically restraining you, and you have to pat his arm to get his attention.

“Babe, let go for a second, it’s gonna burn.” That seems to do that trick, and his arms relax just enough for you to finish your task. “There,” you say as you slide it onto a plate. It’s a dark golden brown and crispy, glistening from the melted fat and Osamu knows that once he tears into it, the inside will be soft and no doubt delicious.

But he doesn’t reach for the plate as you would expect. Instead, he spins you around his arms so that you can peer up at his sleepy face.

“I came in here for morning kisses.”

Because yes, while Osamu loves Saturday mornings and breakfast, he loves you a whole lot more. The true highlight of this time of the week is waking up to you, and tugging you back into the circle of his arms. Kissing you slow and lazy under a cocoon of bedsheets, is far more inviting than any breakfast could ever be. Well, until his stomach begins to protest, that is.

So you smile and roll your eyes, relenting to this needy-when-he-wakes-up version of your husband and letting him kiss you in the middle of your kitchen, whilst buttery sunlight laps at your feet. When he pulls away, he looks decidedly more awake, and that’s when his stomach begins to rumble.

“Okay, now I want breakfast,” he grins, and you shake your head fondly as he follows you to sit at the table, plates in hand. But he still hasn't started eating.

Instead, he waits. He waits for you to settle in your seat, forearms still lightly dusted with flour with your hair falling loose and a little messy. He takes this moment to savour the sight of you glowing in the morning light, to chew on it slowly before your eyes meet when you look up, and he swallows his lovesick sigh. And finally, your attention is his.

“Here.” You tear a piece off your own plate, wisps of steam curling off it that you gently blow at to cool it. Osamu meets you halfway as you reach across the table, happily accepting the bite you offer to him - a tradition you’ve kept since the start of your relationship. A hum rumbles in his chest as the flavours invade his palette and the tender look in your eyes pours adoration into his heart.

To Osamu, this is the greatest declaration of love, and he will always savour it down to the last morsel.

[bokubyul-deactivated20240408]

osamu likes to play august by taylor swift to drown out the thunder and lighting whenever it rains. he brings you to the center of the living room; all the lights are on so you don't know when it's about it strike. he presses you to his chest and his lips ghost over your ear; he's singing, very poorly, but its enough to distract you. its enough to cease your from shaking.