Ernesto Jason Liebrecht Should Voice Endo In My Opinion. He’s, To Me, Known Mostly For Voicing Dabi

Fuck it we bawl (starts sobbing uncontrollably)

Jason Todd SFW Alphabet

From this template

A : Affectionate How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

He shows affection in small ways that just never end, not in an annoying way. His love languages are definitely physical affection (he's touch-starved), quality time (he spent so much of his childhood alone, physically or not), and words of affirmation. I talk about the physical stuff further down, but he also loves just being in the same room as you. If you're in college and studying or doing homework he's there with you, silent, just enjoying your presence, stepping in whenever you need a break (hypocrite). He praises you for the smallest thing, you got a C+ on a paper and feel down? That professor's an idiot, Lois Lane would publish a paper like that. You look beautiful in that outfit, doesn't matter how often he's seen you in it, you always look amazing.

B : Best Friend What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?

I can see the friendship starting slowly, you two meet probably somewhere like a bookstore or coffee shop. You're looking at a book he likes and he comments, and the two of you start talking. You don't exchange info, just happen to meet up there a few times before you start talking outside of the bookshop. It's definitely a warm, and open friendship. You can banter back and forth, pick up conversations like two weeks hadn't passed, etc.

C : Cuddles Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

Jason in two words: touch starved. He tries to be nonchalant about it, but he has to be touching you in some way. Arm around your shoulders, leaning against your side, holding your hand, you holding his arm, etc. His two favorites are when you lay on his chest, you're like a living, beautiful weighted blanket, and when you let him lay on your chest, listening to your heart beat, feeling your breath under his chest, your fingers carding through his hair. He's like an overgrown cat.

D : Domestic Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

He does not actively realize he wants to settle down, but he cannot see his future without you. To him it doesn't matter if you have kids, don't have kids, get married, don't get married, stay in Gotham, move, etc. He just wants you next to him. As for cooking-- I cannot see him being an excellent cook. He either forgets to eat, or makes instant ramen for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He, however, doesn't want you to feel like you have to do everything, so he learns how to cook basic meals for the two of you, and luckily, he's decent at cleaning. The mess reminds him too much of his house growing up, and he doesn't want to feel that around you.

E : Ending If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

In a serious relationship I can only see Jason breaking up with their partner due to him fearing for their safety. He'd also do it fast, like breakup with you, give you a half-assed reason, and then flee. He wouldn't answer your texts or calls, but he'd always make sure you were safe. He just feels you're safer without him.

F : Fiancé How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

He doesn't actively plan on getting married, but he wants you in his life forever. He goes by your flow once you're together for a longer period of time. You wanna get married? He's down on one knee. Want a big wedding? He's guilting Bruce into paying for everything. Want a small wedding? Still making Bruce pay. Courthouse? Already driving you two there. How quick would depend on you, two years in and you want a ring? He's taking Babs out to help him look. Seven years and you mention the courthouse? Well you're both free Wednesday, wanna go then?

G : Gentle How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

Jason Todd is a huge teddy bear. He knows he's big, he's strong, he's intimidating, and most of the time he doesn't mind that. With you though? Doesn't matter how strong you are, he's gonna treat you like glass. Not because he doesn't think you can handle yourself, he just never wants to hurt you in any way, shape, or form. He never raises his voice at you, never raises a hand, never even thinks of doing either of those.

H : Hugs Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

Like I said, touch-starved. If he could have you in his arms all the time he would. Any time you're fine with it-- cause if you needed space or no touch he'd oblige, and not make a fuss about it cause hey he respects your boundaries-- he's got you in his arms. His hugs make you feel like nothing can hurt you, you're protected in his arms, leaning against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

I : I Love You How fast do they say the L-word?

I can definitely see him taking a bit to say it, not because he doesn't love you, but because saying it feels really real to him. However, when he comes to fully realize, know, and accept that he loves you, he says it without realizing it and doesn't blink while you're reeling. After that, he ends every conversation with an "I love you", and sometimes randomly gives you a quick kiss with a "love you".

J : Jealousy How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?

It's strange for him because, on the one hand, he trusts you. Like, really, really trusts you. He'd hand you his guns if you so much as asked, not needing anything else. However, he does get jealous. Specifically cause he loves your attention, and when it's on someone else for too long and he feels ignored, the man deflates. His brothers think it's hilarious to steal your attention from him and watch him get all pouty. The big bad Red Hood is pouting cause his partner is talking to his brothers and not him.

K : Kisses What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

Kissing Jason makes you feel like you're wrapped up in a warm blanket, protected, loved, and like you're the most important person to walk on the earth. Regardless of how quick and small they are, or how hot and heavy they can become. He loves to kiss you on the lips, the cheek, and the forehead. He feels that's the best way to convey how much he loves you. As for him, he loves it when you press gentle kisses on his hands, his palms, or his knuckles. It makes him feel soft, it makes him feel safe. He won't say that, though, so you better pick up on his little smile every time you do.

L : Little Ones How are they around children?

He's the kind of guy who says they don't like kids, that they're snot-nosed and annoying. Yet he's so soft with them. He kneels down to their level to talk to them, never talks to them like they're dumb or babies, always makes sure they are able to show or say their boundaries and he respects them. He volunteered once with you at a library with the poorer kids and read to them, going out of his way to make funny voices, letting them climb all over his lap, tug his hair, etc.

M : Morning How are mornings spent with them?

He's not a morning person. Odds are you're up before him and he tries holding you in bed, pleading that he just needs five more minutes with you. You can bribe him out of bed with breakfast and coffee, however.

N : Night How are nights spent with them?

More of a night owl, and you two often stay up late, talking in hushed whispers about anything and everything. He likes it when he makes you laugh when you're tired and giggly and find him hilarious. Odds are he's not a morning person cause you two stay up late.

O : Open When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

He wouldn't open up quickly. That's just not really the Batfamily tradition. You'd be dating for a while, and one night he'd probably have a rough night. Aggressive thugs out and about, hurt kids, bad memories. You'd just hold him, you wouldn't pry or ask questions, just let him relax into you. And he'd spill. About his mom. About Willis. About meeting Bruce. About his relationship with his brothers. Dying. Coming back. His feelings. Everything.

P : Patience How easily angered are they?

He used to have a horrible temper, and everyone knew. With you? He wanted to change that. You were never the reason he was mad: upset? Sometimes, sure. But he loves you, so he worked on himself. He worked on communication, talking to you when you did something or said something. He learned healthier ways to manage his anger, as to never take it out on you.

Q : Quizzes How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

Jason remembers when his mom started forgetting small things about him, forgetting holidays and birthdays, and as a kid he never said anything, but it hurt. It hurt a lot when she forgot how old he was because she missed his past few birthdays. So he makes sure he remembers everything about you. You once mentioned this café opening you saw online? He takes you there on opening day-- five months later. You changed from gold to silver or silver to gold? He picks up on it and changes the jewelry he buys you accordingly.

R : Remember What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

He's got two. One, when you learned about him being Red Hood. He was worried about your response, knowing it was a dangerous life. But you just told him to promise you he'd always come back to you, and you learned how to patch up different kinds of wounds without telling him to help him however you could. Just you worrying about his safety made his heart flutter. Two, when you learned who his father was. He was used to people wanting to be close to him and his siblings because of Bruce-- riches and influence. You didn't care, at all. "Oh. Your dad's Bruce Wayne? Cool. Do you want lo-mien or ramen for dinner?"

S : Security How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

Super protective. I think we can all agree on that. He's seen the worst of the worst people, seeing people hurt and injured. He never wants you to be in those positions. You'd move in with him eventually, his apartment was probably one of the safest places in Gotham. He tracked you, with your consent of course, and you understood. You tracked his phone too, cause he knows you worry as well. As for you protecting him, he likes it when you hold him after nightmares or rough nights, telling him everything's going to be okay, and just being there for him.

T : Try How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

A lot. But he does his best not to show it. Oh, you have a dream date you have a Pinterest board for? Well, he's searching high and low on how to make that date happen. You've always wanted to go to Paris? London? Brazil? Guess where you're going for your two year anniversary. He tucks you in whenever you nap or sleep, bookmarks your pages for you so you never lose your page, and makes sure he always has your favorite drinks in the fridge.

U : Ugly What would be some bad habits of theirs?

Self-sacrificing and shutting down. He has a hard time letting people help him, feeling like if he lets people help then he's not strong enough to take care of you. It upsets you whenever he does that, but in a way you get it. It's something you two work on.

V : Vanity How concerned are they with their looks?

His concern is mostly whenever you get worried about him. The bags under his eyes, the half-treated cuts and bruises. He takes better care of himself after dating you because whenever you worry about him like that it hurts his heart too. He gets a better shower schedule, sleeps better, eats more than take out and protein.

W : Whole Would they feel incomplete without you?

I think towards the beginning of your relationship he would do his best to remain independent. He knew the pain of being alone, being left, being forgotten, and he did his best to avoid that, but he also wouldn't want to wish that upon you if anything happened. However, as your relationship grows and continues you truly become the light of his life, and his day isn't complete if he doesn't talk to you at least once.

X : Xtra A random headcanon for them.

He talks in his sleep. Sometimes, on bad nights, he's crying, nightmares from his memories, and fears of losing you or seeing his family die in front of him because, despite it all, he still cares about them. On good days he mutters the most random crap, and you have videos of him arguing with some made up person from his dreams over food or clothes.

Y : Yuck What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?

He wouldn't like conceited people, confident sure, but cocky? No. He dealt with Bruce's rich "friends" too much to deal with that. He wouldn't want someone to coddle him, baby him, he wants to be taken care of sure, but not at the expense of a partner treating him like he's incapable of doing anything.

Z : Zzz What is a sleep habit of theirs?

If he could stay up all night talking to you, looking at you, he would. You, however, enjoy sleeping. You feel like you have to fight him to be in bed before three AM, and deal with the fact that he and Tim are far closer in how much coffee they drink than Jason would ever admit.

Send in any character request with a letter, multiple letters, or the whole thing!

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again?

Umemiya Hajime x Reader

You often heard the saying ‘time flies’ as a child, and you rarely found yourself believing it. Adulthood and the freedom you sought appeared so far away, and now, you realized how true that statement was.

It felt as if once you grew old enough to learn to balance freedom with responsibility, your aging never stopped. One moment you were a child, listening to fairy tales from your mother, and the next you were betrothed.

Your husband was a sweet man, he was kind and he made you happy. He was strong and fierce, and you, along with your country, saw and knew this. You had met at a party, hosted by some nobleman your family knew. There had been nothing romantic about it, the stories you fell asleep to spoke nothing of a man falling out of a tree mere inches in front of you.

You hadn’t even been able to feel anything other than panic— but luckily the worst he had was a sore back, and a bruised ego. Once your adrenaline had died down, the first thing you noticed was how blue his eyes were. The next was that his hair, as tangled with leaves as it was, was as white as the sugar cubes your older brother snuck for you.

That night of conversation led to more, and it felt like one day you woke up as the wife of Umemiya Hajime, the crowned ruler of Furin. Your meeting may not have been magical, but your wedding night had put stories to shame.

“Your Highness?”

You hummed, not tearing your eyes from where you were watching your daughter run around the garden, chasing a butterfly as the creature fluttered from flower to flower.

“Some of the suitors are requesting an audience with you, madame.”

Hajime had built this garden for you, every fruit grown was one of your favorites, every flower he had planted had meaning. Baby’s breath, red camellias, pink carnations, chamomile, white clovers, forget-me-nots. You had refused to ever plant anything else, the garden remained unchanged for years.

“Shall I turn them away?”

How you wished to say yes, to demand her to tell them to just leave. To take their sorry-hides and leave your kingdom, your land, your country, to never return. How you wished even more to tell them to gouge out their leering eyes, throw themselves into the sea they claimed took your husband.

Instead you stood, brushing your dress to lay flat, turning to your hear lady-in-waiting, sending her a small smile. “No, I shall see them.”

“Are you certain?”

For years men had come to your kingdom, your home, to request your hand. They acted as if the empty space in your bed was an opportunity for them, that the ring you still held onto was merely decorative. For years you turned them down, for years you held onto hope that your husband would return to you.

But men grew impatient, and your people became weary. You had to begin to entertain them, all the while your heart screamed for your husband, begged you to give him more time to return to you.

Your daughter, seeing you stand, left her butterfly hunt to rush over to you, the smile that matched her father’s painting her face. “We’re going inside now?”

You brushed her hair out of her face, the wavy curls that reminded you so much of Hajime, but the color that matched yours. Her smile was contagious, and you sent her one back, “Yes my dear. I believe you need a bath.”

At this, she made a face, cheeks puffed in an exaggerated pout. She hated bath time, she hated all the pampering she faced during and after. She was a free spirit, opting to play in the gardens. Hajime had left for war while you were pregnant, and the pair had never been able to meet, but every night since she was born you told her stories of her father. Of the man he was, the man he is.

You often woke in tears, dreams of your husband and daughter laughing in the gardens ringing in your ears. You only hoped one day they may come true.

“Now,” You turned back to your lady, “Have them gather in the foyer, refuse them any wine or ale they ask of, however. I don’t wish for any of them to be drunk when hearing what I have to offer.”

“Of course, my lady,” She bowed, heading inside, the worry in her eyes apparent.

Your daughter tugged your hand, “When can I have wine and ale?”

At this, you laughed, reaching to bring her to your chest, “Not for a long time my dear, I highly doubt you would enjoy them.”

She grumbled as the pair of your made your way inside, unknowing of the pair of eyes that tracked the two of you moving.

You had a small group of women working for you that you trusted with your life, of women you knew were faithful to you, and you alone. Years ago that number had been larger. You handed your daughter off to them, cited to have her bathed and ready for her afternoon nap, as unhappy as she was about this plan.

You took a moment for yourself, steeling the courage you needed. You held power, you could command armies worth of men should you need it, but you so often felt afraid without the comfort of your husband with you. But you refused to show this to these men. Once your main lady returned to you, you made your way where the entourage was awaiting you.

The doors opened, and whatever conversations that had been had paused. All eyes were on you, and you felt your skin crawl at the disgusting thoughts you could feel pouring towards you. But you kept your head high as you walked, making your way to the front.

You said nothing as you took your seat, refusing to stand when speaking to anyone. They didn’t deserve that, half of them hadn’t even waited for you to give birth to your daughter before showing up, seeking your hand, claiming your husband had no doubt perished at war.

“I suppose you all have waited long enough,” Was how you began speaking, pausing to allow the sneers and jeers to echo the room.

“I propose a challenge for all those still wishing for the throne, all those aiming for my hand.” Your left hand brushed your hair from your face, aiming to show how you still adorned your wedding ring, a challenge in itself.

“My husband had made many allies for us, and these allies are tough, formidable men. I have reached out to many, and have since then received my answers.” With a nod of yours, the side doors were opened, and more men filled in. For them, you stood, walking towards your husbands allies— his friends— to greet them.

“Shishitorin has been Furin’s closest allies for years, and have been a reason we have been able to hold our own against opponents who came to steal power. The only man who has ever held his own against their own leader, was my husband. No man had ever come close.”

It was a rare sight to see Togame serious, but it was even more rare to see Choji without his smile. Their letters in response had read serious, and you knew they wished to do what they could to ensure these suitors were unable to get their hands on you— or the throne.

They looked ready to kill, as did the rest of their men that arrived with them. They would play nice, as Choji stated in a letter, for you and your daughter.

“If any man can defeat their five strongest fighters, including Sir Togame and Sir Tomiyama, then they have proven themselves worthy for the throne, for the crown, and my hand.”

It appeared simple in writing, but you had been there when Furin and Shishitorin had begun their companionship. You had witnessed the blood shed, the tears, and the pain that came, and had been privileged to witness the relationship that came after. Had it not been for their strength for you to fall back on, you worry grief would have had you years ago.

“May the most worthy man win,” You nodded at the group of men, turning to nod at the guests, before taking your leave.

Murmurs broke out behind you, and for once, you heard the worry in the voices of the suitors. It filled you with a level of vindication you hadn’t known one could feel.

You knew there were very few men able to win five consecutive fights against Shishitorin’s strongest fighters, even if there was nothing on the line. But now your friends were armed with the determination to ensure your husbands place remained untouched, you felt strongly that no one would even come close to winning.

Despite the confidence you had in your friends, your heart still hammered, and you couldn’t fight the tears that filled your eyes. Silently sobbing was something you had long since mastered, you refused to appear weak in front of the men who had taken residence in your home, show fear to your daughter who looked up to you so.

You took a moment to collect yourself, eyes screwed tight as you willed the inevitable headache to leave you be. Knowing it was unavoidable, you continued down the hall, making your way to your daughter’s room. To no surprise, she wasn’t asleep.

“My dear,” You sighed dramatically, making your way to her bed, “I told you a growing girl needs ample rest.”

“I’m not tired!” The same old song and dance, truly.

“No? You woke so early this morning,” An exaggerated yawn left your mouth, “Even I find myself in need of an afternoon nap today.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, “You can nap with me, then. I guess that’s fine.”

“How gracious of you, my little princess,” You shifted to lay beside her, allowing her to move to lay so her head was on your chest, ear against your heart.

It was quiet for a bit, your fingers carding through her hair. At one point, you had thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Mama?”

You hummed, “Yes, my dear?”

“Am I ever going to meet daddy?”

It may have been less painful had she plunged a dagger into your chest, but you schooled that pain, your hand continued to brush through her hair, “You will, little princess, one day.”

“But when?”

“I don’t know,” Admitting that felt the same as admitting defeat, but you couldn’t lie to her.

She was quiet for another moment, “Do you think he’ll like me?”

That was enough to give you pause, and you moved her to look at you, noting the tears in her eyes.

“He loved you the moment I told him I was pregnant with you,” You brushed the first tear that fell away, “He often spoke to you in my belly when you moved around in the morning, he sang you lullabies every night, even before your ears had begun to form.”

You tickled the tips of her ears, her little giggles easing the ache in your chest, “He cried more than I did when he had to leave before you were born. He promised you, the day he left, he was fighting for me, and for you. He promised nothing would stop him from returning to us, that he’d destroy anything nature sent his way— every storm, every whirlpool. He’d even fight the gods should he have had to.”

“Is that where he is? Fighting gods?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps he’s commanding the storms to bring him home to us, and clouds aren’t the greatest with directions.”

She smiled, but it dimmed after a second, chewing her lip before speaking, her voice quiet, “Some of the men here said he was dead… said you were in- in denying that he was dead. They said I need a dad, that you need a King.”

The hatred you had in your heart originally swelled, and you felt anger eat at your heart, and she continued, “But I knew they were liars! I have a dad, and when he’s back they’ll have to leave!”

“That’s right,” You smiled at her, a forced feeling, “Now, my dear, a nap will do us both well.”

She laid down, her eyes fluttering shut soon after. You felt yourself drift off with her, the feeling of anger still fresh in your chest. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, until you were woken hours later. The sun had begun setting, the sky a bleeding red. Your heart was hammering, and you were holding your daughter close to your chest. Blinking blearily, you stared at the bedroom door. Why had you woken so afraid?

A muffled scream echoed throughout the building, and that gave you enough answer. Your daughter was half-awake, and you held her tight to your chest. The door was flung open, and your ladies rushed in, panicked looks on their faces.

“What is—”

“One of the men has gone mad,” One of them whispered to you, tone frantic, “The others were conspiring, ma’am, they were— they planned to—” Her eyes flickered to your daughter, but her message to you was clear as day.

The man had grown tired of waiting it seemed, perhaps some had gone to fight and lost, and they decided to act on their own accord.

“Shishitorin—”

“They took up arms against many of the suitors, but we came to find you, you two must hide,” Her eyes were frantic as she tugged at the two of you.

Your heart was hammering, your palms sweaty as you held your daughter to your chest. She had no idea what was happening, but her grip on your dress was tight.

You left your daughter’s room, taking up in a small room, one you recalled your husband saying was to only be used when necessary. Unfortunately, that necessary was here. You were all huddled close, your daughter, naturally, the most protected. You’d kill any man who entered that room before they touched her, and you would ensure if you died trying you wouldn’t be the only one.

Your dedication ladies were around you, ready to sacrifice themselves for you. But you prayed to whoever may be listening that shouldn’t happen. Hours crept by, slow as the sap that dripped in the garden during the springtime. There were screams and yells, the sound of gurgling and people choking on, what you assumed, was their own blood.

The silence that followed it all was deafening. None of you moved, no one shifted. You heard it then, a muffled call of your name. You felt the women around you tense, but you sat straight, “That’s Choji.”

Still weary, you ensured your daughter was safe in their arms before you stepped outside, clutching tight to a dagger you had grabbed on your way out the door.

“Choji?”

The shorter man looked frenzy, hair disheveled, blood on his clothes. But he was smiling— his eyes looked watery.

“Choji— are you—”

“He’s back,” He rushed to you, hands gripping your forearms, “Umemiya’s back.”

It was a blur, really, after Choji uttered those words. The night had shifted, darkness surrounding the walls of your home. Your daughter was whisked away, exhausted but placated by whatever you had said to her in a daze. You found yourself alone in your bedroom, as you had found yourself so many times before. It felt different now, and your wrapped your arms around you, an attempt of soothing yourself.

The door opened, and you couldn’t stop the wild beating of your heart. You turned only partly, looking at the man who entered. He wore your husband’s face, at least what you had assumed your husband would look like after eight years. This time of seasons, it was almost nine years.

He was taller than you recall, or perhaps it was how he held himself. His hair was longer, the ends curling almost identically to your daughter’s. His eyes, the same shade of blue as the ocean, were far sadder than you could ever remember.

“Is it really you?” Your voice was a whisper, but it echoed loud in your chambers, “I’ve often dreamt of you coming home to us, and I must admit each waking moment is more painful than the last.”

He stepped forward, and you couldn’t stop the step back, mirroring his closeness. The pain in his eyes intensified, and your resolve cracked some.

“Every time you reach to touch me I wake up, if this is another dream I’d wish to stay in it as long as I’m able.” He nodded slowly at your explanation, eyes staring at you, as if he was as afraid to look away as you were, “You look far different than you have when you’ve visited me in my dreams. You’d always great me with a smile.” Your voice cracked as you spoke.

He looked pained at this, and his shoulders tensed, looking as if he were hunching in on himself, “I’m not the same man I was when I left you.” His voice was quiet, deeper, but the same voice you wished to hear for years.

“I’m… different now, I’m afraid. War was not kind, and the journey home, my journey to you was unforgiving.” He swallowed hard, eyes pleading as he looked at you, “I’m not the man you took as your husband, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to love me as you did before.”

“Your journey took six years longer than you promised,” You all but whispered towards him, hands trembling as you fidgeted with your ring, “There was talk that you had died.”

He shook his head, “I had to come back to you, to— to our child. Nothing would have stopped me, not even death herself. She tried though,” His voice was thick, “I watched many men die, I took… so many lives. Their blood stains my hands, no matter how much I bathe.”

He looked at his palms, as if searching for the stainage.

“When I returned there were so many men here. They spoke vilely of you,” The words left his lips like poison being spat, “They spoke of your body as if it were a prize they sought after, one they would’ve taken if it were not given. Their fight with Shishitorin was a genius move on your end, my love.”

He smiled at you at that, and the tears that had been building spilled over. That smile had haunted your dreams and nightmares alike for years. And now it was here, mere feet in front of you.

“But they grew angrier. I wished to plot my arrival to be less dramatic, but the threats they spoke of. I’m only a man,” He closed his eyes, holding his breath for a moment before looking back at you, “They cannot, and will not, ever harm you. Look at you. Or speak of you again. Years ago, the blood staining our home would have had me feeling guilty, but now I see it as a means to an end. I fear my hearts turned cold, it’s closed in my time away. I fear your husband doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Doesn’t exist?” He nodded at your whispered question, a shameful look on his face.

You turned away from him, the tears still steadily falling down your cheeks. The garden, your garden, stood as pristine as it had earlier, the cherry blossom tree standing in the middle, her branches swaying peacefully in the night wind.

“If you wish to prove you’re still my husband, or worthy of being so,” Your voice was thick as you spoke, your nose stuffed, head throbbing, “Then I shall give you a task as I have the others.”

“Anything for you.” The sincerity in his voice was borderline painful.

“I wish for you to uproot the garden outside,” You didn’t turn as you spoke, “My husband planted all types of flowers years ago, said there was meaning behind them. I have never met another man who understands the language flowers hide as he, and I have done my own research.”

Truth of the matter was you had found the notes your husband scribbled years ago, lists of flowers and their meanings, which ones he felt for you and which one he swore he’d never even look at.

“Indifference. Refusal. Disappointment. Resignation. Stupidity.” You forced a mirthful chuckle, “All things I fear my husband felt for me. Towards me.”

There was silence, not even the sound of breath other than yours. For a moment, you were terrified he had left the room, and you turned.

He was crying, silent tears falling down his face as he stared at you. Anger was written in his eyes, but he didn’t move, wasn’t even looking at you anymore. His gaze had matched yours, looking at to the garden and all her loving plants.

“For you to even suggest that—” He took a breath, his cheeks red.

“Everlasting love, the flame of my heart, an oath to never forget you, promised twice, patience, a wish for you to think of me, and only of me.” His voice grew louder as he spoke, “I had wished to plant hibiscus bushes under our window, but the scent made you sick while you were pregnant, and you told me on our wedding night that roses were too simple to express our relationship.”

He turned to you, the bright fury behind his eyes unleashing a storm of emotion. “I’d have burnt any flower, any tree, any bush that even suggested I thought such awful things about you.”

You stepped towards him, your chest bubbling with anger, with sorrow, love, pain— everything you had kept in for eight years.

“And the only man who knew all this was the man I married,” You were in front of him now, his faces inches from yours, “So I suppose that means you’re still him.”

The anger wavered for a moment, before you watched his face crumble. The silent tears turned into ragged breaths, and you stood tall, the pain in your chest aching to join him.

“I fell in love with you, and I have never stopped loving you. Time, distance— nothing will ever stop those feelings. Do not come into our bedroom and state I won’t love you as much as I did all those years ago, as much as I do now.”

“I have waited eight long years, alone and worried, but as in love with you as I was when we were first married. I was waiting for my husband, for you,” You poked at his chest, the first contact you had with him for eight years, “You absolute idiot.”

You weren’t sure who broke first, but the sobs causing your breath to hiccup broke free. His arms were around you, and you were weeping into his shoulder, as he was in yours. He was as warm as you recalled all those years ago, as solid as ever. He held you, as if he was terrified you’d move too far from his reach if he gave you the space to do so. You held him back equally as tight, if not more.

“My dear, how I have missed you.” He whispered against your hair, and the warmth of his lips against your forehead brought forth a fresh wave of tears.

“I knew you’d return,” You pulled back, cupping his cheeks, staring at the man you had loved for nearly a decade and a half.

He pulled you forward, crushing you into a kiss. His lips were rough, you could almost feel every crack in his skin against your own. But you melted into his embrace like it was your first kiss all over again. It was messy, both your cheeks still wet from your tears. You held each other, lips molded into one until you both had to pull back to breath, panting in each others space.

“We have a daughter?”

You laughed, broken and whole all at once, “Yes. She acts so much like you, I nearly named her Hajimia.”

He made a face, “Please tell me she isn’t named that.”

You shook your head, “No, Fumiko.”

Hajime echoed your laughter, just as wet and unbridled as yours, “Hibiscus.”

“I told her stories of you every night,” You traced a scar on his forehead, cutting straight through his eyebrow, “She already adores you so much.”

He grabbed your hand in his, the palms rougher and more calloused, but as warm and protecting as ever. He brought your knuckles to his lips, a kiss pressed against them, “And I already adore her, I did the moment she was conceived.”

“You fought nature and men’s deadliest armies to return to her, to me,” You pressed forward, your face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat was music to your ears, “I love you. I never stopped.”

He took a shuddering breath, “I love you.”

a/n: so I whipped this out in one sitting, sat here and wrote for like 2 hours straight. if you can’t tell I’m a little Epic obsessed. I don’t even know if this is good or not!

Do you ever talk to your mutuals?

not really i just post things and hope they fall in love with me

me starting dandadan: haha gotta find this guy’s balls lmao

me finishing episode 7:

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆𝕲𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕳𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆𝕭𝖔𝖐𝖚𝖙𝖔 𝖝 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

The kitchen was warm, the scent of cinnamon and sugar strong, a welcoming scent. The lights on the tree flickered, colors dancing against the ornaments. The world outside was cold, snow slowly beginning to fall, a barely there dusting coated the ground. Inside was warm, yet far less quiet than outside. Bokuto was knee-deep in a gingerbread house mess, his half empty wine glass abandoned on the kitchen counter. Candy wrappers littered the floor around where he stood. Your fiance had a childlike smile on his face, tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrated. Both of you had flushed cheeks, the bottle of wine you had opened for dinner was empty now, and you two were enjoying the free time the holiday season gave you.

He decided this freedom meant you two should build a gingerbread house— though you’d say his energy had shifted as the building went on.

You watch him, giggling as he held the piping bag awkwardly, not used to having to hold something so precariously. The frosting application was anything but neat; messy but screaming enthusiasm. 

The walls of the house were all tilted at different angles, some candy scattered around the house, around the floor, everywhere truly. 

“Ko,” You called out, hiding your smile behind your wine glass, “You may be overdoing it with the frosting.”

He looked over at you, grinning, “I’m just testing it out,” He squinted down at the walls, the frosting nearly dripping from how much he was using, “Want to make sure everything sticks. This is a very delicate process, you know.”

You crossed your arms, leaning your hip against the counter, “Delicate, huh?”

He nodded, poking softly at one of the walls to adjust it, and you both watched as it grew more lopsided. He pulled his hands away before the whole thing collapsed. 

“It’s modern.” He said, voice completely serious as he stared down at the sweets.

You started laughing, leaning against him, moving to wipe off the frosting that was leftover on his cheek, “Modern?”

“Yeah, modern houses have like… weird shaped walls, and windows.”

He turned to you, eyes bright, cheeks red as he smiled, proud of the house he had quite literally thrown together. 

“I don’t think modern houses look like they’ll collapse if you breath too hard near them.”

He laughed, full bodied chuckles leaving his mouth, unbothered by the truth behind your statement, “It’s supposed to look like that, that’s true modern housing.”

Kotaro turned, rummaging through one of the many opened bags of candy, “I think it just needs more candy,” He stated, “The more candy, the better!” 

He pilled gumdrops and chocolate pieces into his hand, popping a few pieces into his mouth, before turning to you, holding his hand out. He looked like a kid in a candy store— which, looking at the kitchen, was exactly what he was.

“Alright,” You took one last swig of your wine, putting the glass down as you took a few pieces from him, “Let’s add some more candy.”

You both dove in, bodies pressed against each other as you began covering every bare inch with some type of candy. The frosting was still dripping down the walls, the roof pieces barely holding onto each other. Chaotic doesn’t even begin to describe the mess that this ended up being; if you stepped back and glanced at it you doubt you’d even be able to have known this was a gingerbread house.

You found a kitkat, breaking it apart as you set it up, trying to make some funky roof piece, but it ended up falling over. Now it just looked like two logs hanging on for dear life.

“Not bad!” Ko leaned over, nodding approvingly at your addition, “If we add more frosting we can layer the candy too.”

He grabbed the pipping bag, looking far too determined. You could smell the inevitability happening.

“I think we should leave it be,” You tried sounding more serious, but the laughter broke each word, and you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

He squeezed the bag, a pile of frosting landing on top of the kitkat pieces, “See? It just needed a special touch—”

In slow motion you two watched as the kitkats fell onto the counter top, followed closely by the roof pieces, chocolate pieces and gumdrops following piece by piece. The four walls stood, barely, for all of a few seconds before they collapsed on each other. 

You two stared at it, not even in shock, before you started laughing. Loud snorts leaving you, your eyes tearing up as he joined you. It was just a gingerbread pile at this rate, and with the sheer amount of frosting on it, you wouldn’t even consider it edible anymore. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” He started, still giggling like a schoolkid, “We can rebuild it from the ground up.”

You shook your head, wiping some of the fallen tears from your cheeks, “I think we should call it.”

He didn’t argue, too busy grinning at you, your laughter, unbridled and unrestrained was one of his favorite sounds. He knew that later he’d playfully grumble and complain when he had to clean, wiping the dried up frosting from the counters and throwing away all the candy he could have eaten later. 

But that was future him’s issue, now him got to enjoy the glow of alcohol in your cheeks, and the way the tree lights made your eyes look like they held galaxies. He wrapped his arms around your waist, your body still trembling from how hard you laughed at the mess you two made, feeling your warmth against his.

“I love you,” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, the smell of your shampoo mixing with the sweet scent of the wine you two had gone through, just so you that it made his heart hurt.

“I love you too, Ko,” You pressed closer to his chest, “Even if your gingerbread house skills are subpar.”

“Subpar?” He pulled back, a faux offended look on his face, “I’ll have you know I’m the best decorator on the Jackels!”

A/N: sorry I hated this >.<

WE NEED INDIVIDUAL PICS OF SAKURA AND SUO 3RD YEAR VERSIONS ASLDKFJGHJFKDSLOWERITGH DROOLING SCREAMING PULLING MY HAIR OUT

-🧊

im more than happy to indulge, so here’s my third year furin 6 headcanons!

not writing, not not writing, but a secret third thing

LOOK! HE’S A DICK! HE’S RUDE! BUT ALSO!

he’s the funniest mother fucker in this manga

you. reading this. don't forget your daily clicks