#i just want to fix it first so they look happier bc i feel like it would be weird if they were smiling in a breakup announcement lol

[alitgblog]

since season 7 is coming soon (this week???), here's some inevitable news

[gaystardykeco]

fun wednesday night activity: thinking about all the ppl who left me and how much better their lives are because of doing so

[janitorhutcherson]

Bf!Futturman Headcanons (Future Man)

there is NOT enough future man content! allow @dollfacedalls and i to fix that :p these r some headcanons we came up with real quick. if there are typos, sorry guys lolz. its 3am and i just typed this up bc i felt like we needed some josh futturman content. enjoy the sweaty loser boyfriend vibes!

Bf!Futturman who tries to be flirty and sexy but is unsuccessful. You've been out all day, and you've just gotten home. The moment you walk through the door, Josh is in front of you in a pair of dinosaur boxers with a huge, cheesy smile. You know why, and you know what he's wanting. You can't help but grin like an idiot as you put your bags down, walking towards him to place your hands on his hips. Before you can do so, Josh attempts to lean against the coffee table in a sexy fashion. Of course, as expected, he loses his balance, his feet falling out from under you. He lets out a yelp as his elbow hits the coffee table, your eyes wide as you run to assist him. "Baby," you gasp as you kneel. "Are you okay?" you mumble as he repositions himself, now leaning on his hurt elbow on his side, the toothy grin back on his face. "Yeah.. fine now that you're here, sexy," he says, wiggling his eyebrows as you roll your eyes, hitting his shoulder.

Bf!Futturman who is so clingy that he misses you so much, making him even want to be you. You two live together, Josh finally having moved out of his childhood home to get an apartment with you. You were at work, and Josh was upset. He felt like his other half was missing. It wasn't fair that he was off and you weren't. So.. naturally, he did what any man who was missing his partner would do -- he tried on your clothes, sprayed himself in your perfume, listened to your favorite songs, and watched your favorite TV show. When you walked into your apartment to him sitting on the couch in your dress, the apparent scent of your cherry-scented perfume in the air, Dance Moms on the TV, you gasped. The moment his eyes locked with yours, Josh froze, his eyes wide, not really sure what to say. Your eyes darted to the empty bottle on the table; your lonely boyfriend had drained your expensive perfume. Josh's eyes followed yours to the bottle as he shot up, walking over to you with raised eyebrows. "I swear, baby, I- I'll buy you a new bottle," he awkwardly muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. 

Bf!Futturman who wants an ugly cat with you. No, not just a cat, but an ugly one. He wanted to find the most hideous, rattiest, mangy-looking cat the two of you could find. At first, you were somewhat frustrated with how adamant he was about the situation. You would've been much happier with a fluffy kitten with pretty blue eyes and soft fur. But no, you loved your boyfriend so much you'd given in. Josh convinced you he wanted one because 'nobody wants the ugly ones.' He claimed it was an action from the goodness of his heart, an action to save a poor kitty. He never would've said it out loud, but the reality was he didn't think the name Barthalomeow fit a pretty kitten. You ended up with a fluffy cat with huge brown eyes bulging from its skull. Its bottom teeth hung out of its mouth, and its brown fur stuck up in every which way... Yeah... it was hideous for sure, but Bathalomeow loved you and his kitty dad so that you couldn't be too mad.

Bf!Futturman gets so sucked into his game that he doesn't notice anything around him. When you weren't around, and he wasn't working, Josh did NOTHING but play Biotic Wars. He'd be so sucked into the game for hours, going to disgusting extremes to avoid having to press pause. When you were home, though, he'd only dedicate an hour or two a day to the game. This usually didn't bother you, but one particular day, you were feeling incredibly desperate for his attention, his eyes locked onto his TV screen as his fingers moved stealthily across his keyboard. You felt like you'd attempted everything. At first, you just tried his name. No luck. Then, you tried tapping his shoulder. Barely flinched. Your next action was more severe, seeing if your words would stir anything in him. "Baby," you called out, your annoyance apparent. "Hm?" he hummed with a half-assed response. "I'm going to my other man's house in a few. Is that cool?" you said from behind him, sprawled out on the bed with your eyebrows raised, your eyes throwing daggers toward the back of his head. "Yeah, whatever, babe, I'll see you later," he mumbled quickly as a loud groan left your lips. "Jesus christ," you mumbled. "Gonna jump off of a bridge, Joshy," you sang out jokingly, to which Josh responded, "Okay, baby." It felt hopeless, that was, until you had an idea. You threw your shirt off, your bare chest exposed as you pranced over to him, standing in front of him. Josh glanced over at you for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he reached his hand up to grasp your boob before looking back to his screen. "Mm, give me another hour," he hummed, his attention once again back on Future Man. Nope, didn't work. You'd revisit in an hour when you were his girlfriend again, and it wasn't his controller getting all of the hand action.

Bf!Futturman that attempts to cook for you. Josh could not cook. This was a given considering in order to cook, you had to have good coordination and be able to somewhat follow directions. Unless in video game form, it was difficult for Josh to do both. You didn't mind, enjoying making dinner and snacks for the two of you. It wasn't until one night Josh wanted to surprise you. He'd watched a YouTube video online on how to make a baked chicken with broccoli, mashed potatoes, along with a few other things. He didn't think twice about the difficulty, already feeling like a chef as he turned off his phone. He was soon proven very wrong, as about an hour later, you walked into the door to the smell of burning meat and smoke filling your kitchen. Josh stood in the center of it all, surrounded by far too many pans for him to be making such a simple dish, many of them filled with what looked like pure charcoal. He looked at you with sad eyes, a pout on his lips. "I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to make a mess. I really just wanted to do something nice for you like you do for me," he said softly as he walked over to you. You embraced him into your arms, pressing a kiss to his head. "Hey, 's okay baby, we can just order takeout," you giggled, deciding to turn the oven off and leave the mess for another time. 

Bf!Futturman who has no filter and lacks an understanding of time and place. The two of you were inside an art museum. You pulled out your phone to snap a cute selfie. The moment he saw the camera, he pulled you close, stiffening his entire body as he stared into the camera with a blank expression. You snapped the picture, reviewing it afterward as your smile dropped. "Seriously, Josh?" you asked as you raised your eyebrows, showing him the photo where he looked both uninterested and terrified all at once. He snickered with amusement, his nose scrunching up. "God, people are going to think I kidnapped you," you muttered under your breath. He nudged you with his shoulder, raising his eyebrows up and down. "That's because you did!" he exclaimed as he pretended to yank out of your grip. People began to stare, and Josh just snickered as you smacked his shoulder. "Shut up, Futturman!" you gritted through your teeth, rolling your eyes. God, you loved him, but oh, how he pissed you off sometimes.

[theroundbartable]

i completely understand what you're talking about with your dad vs your gf's dad. my mom is like your dad and i've lived my whole life on constant damage control to try to avoid getting screamed at and called an idiot. when i first started hanging out with my best friend like 6 years ago now, i was terrified to actually hang out with him in his home bc he lived with his mom and i was just...scared of all moms i guess bc of my own. but i met her and she was wonderful and i remember one of the first nights i was hanging out with them, i bumped into their coffee table and the whole thing just collapsed. i immediately started panicking, saying i would fix it or buy them a new one and holding back tears and she just kinda stopped me and looked at me for a second then gave me a big hug and was like "hey. it's just a table. it's old as shit anyways, it's okay." and we got to talking. turns out she had a mom like mine and she saw that same panic and fear in me and we both cried and hugged and from that day on she was my mom too. me and my friend taped the table leg back together and we've had to fix it a few times since but it's still standing all taped together and shit. and...yeah. it's wild to see how there are parents that are so different from our own.

Thank you for your kind words I hope you're doing better with all that's been going on.

But I also feel kind of guilty now. I feel constantly like being too harsh on my dad. Because I do understand him. Because he's trying very hard to keep our relationship together and he's reflecting and I genuinely believe that when he says he's at fault (even if he's loud about it), he's not trying to be manipulative, he actually means that, he's just frustrated.

I know that my dad was abused as a child by his own dad, even though he doesn't want to acknowledge that to himself. He took care of his dad til the man died and he's never complained while the man was alive nor talked bad about him (that I know of). My dad told me that he tried the entire time while I was young to be a better dad than his, one who doesn't punch us to a pulp in front of our own friends. But there were also times when he didn't know what to do, so he threatened me, beat my younger brother for staying up too late and my second older brother for refusing to eat vegetables and going to church. When he threatened me, I could tell that he felt guilty and let up almost immediately when I started crying. I think my oldest brother was except from all that because he lived in the attic at the time, far away enough to not be affected by it. He also wasn't around for the other stuff that happened outside of my parents' supervision but that's a different story. I just don't think he's as traumatised as the rest of us.

I also blame my mom sometimes because she is a social worker and trained for raising children, so she should have communicated better with him, because she knew what he was doing and let him. (My mom chose to marry my dad because he's her best friend who didn't get jealous when she hung out with other people and she felt safe with him, so it's not like she was afraid of him. They are actually quite wholesome together. They never fought either. When it comes to that, I actually see them as a rolemodel.)

Now that I'm older, I've confronted both of them. On my account, on my brothers account and I'm trying hard to explain to them what their behavior cost me in terms of trust issues and all that kind of stuff. And they are listening.

They are upset sometimes, they sometimes need time to understand it, they are hurt when I keep telling them my childhood was terrible (except for puberty, which is ironic but true because that's when everyone else also got depression and frustration and that made me feel understood.) But they do listen and they do try to respect my needs and they don't hate me or punish me for calling them out. They just thought I'd been happier. And it hurts them to know I wasn't.

That also means I establish boundaries. And when I do, I realize that I sound just as frustrated and resigned as my dad does when they are breached. I told him I don't want comments while I'm cooking because it makes me anxious to cook again, and then he comments about what I could put in the pot and I just freeze and get that defiant monotonous voice and then he leaves the room. I told my dad to call me by my chosen name and he couldn't understand it, so I tried explaining it but he thinks it's stupid. Still, he's trying to call me by that name. He's getting better at it too. Once, I came home while he was on the phone and he told the person on the other end 'Rai is home' and that was the first time in years that I offered him a hug.

What I mean to say is, my dad has a lot of flaws, but he's trying and I feel like I'm making his life so much harder when I complain so much about all the little things. He needs someone to listen to himself and I feel like he doesn't get that at home either.

I am at a point now where I should be letting up a bit and listen in turn, but it's so hard to fight automatic responses. And I understand that that's what my parents are trying to fight too.

It's complicated and messy. But I'm not afraid of my parents. I used to be, but not anymore. Some of my trust issues weren't caused by them, but they did affect our relationship and I'm trying to remedy that.

I just felt like I should also point out their good side because I feel like I'm only venting and showing their bad side here. They are also supportive in their own overly concerned way, and there is a reason why we still eat dinner together as a family.

I don't know what I hope for you. Whether it's that you get away from your problems or that you manage to solve them. I don't know enough about your situation to know what it is you need, but I hope whatever it is, that you have it now.

I also feel a bit guilty for making you say all that and then go and backtrack on what I said about my dad. I apologize for that. I do feel that it isn't quite fair to compare our situations. It's not fair to you, and I don't think it's fair to my dad, and maybe that's exactly what someone would say who's not actually ready to acknowledge they've been abused and maybe it's unfair to say this to someone who merely tried to show compassion and empathy to my situation. I don't know. It's confusing but I don't know.

Thank you again so much for your ask and I hope I didn't blow it all up with this irritating response. 🥲

[transboysokka]

personal ask…what’s your social security number

when did you realize you were a trans man? i think i saw you mention that you identified as enby at some point. what really solidified that distinction for you? if you’re comfortable sharing <3

SSN lmao that’s the literal only thing I wouldn’t reveal on here but also if someone wants to steal it go ahead, I’ll probably never use it lol

and I’m totally comfortable sharing but I don’t know how to keep it from turning into a long rambley story lol

okay yeah but I like to say I’ve known I was trans my whole life because looking back it WAS so obvious and I really did identify and voice the feelings young BUT there wasn’t a word for it at the time and I got so much pushback from my mom (who didn’t know any better… right?) so. Basically I lived as a secret boy in my own head until puberty and most strangers thought I was one lol with the exception of like some of the girly shit my mom bought me and the hair she wouldn’t let me cut above my ears but hey boys had hair like that too back then I guess

lol anyway

By the time I first heard and looked up the word transgender when I was 14 I immediately knew it described me but I was also WAY into the Evangelical Indoctrination by then and Repressed so hard. I THREW myself into being a girl but tbh looking back at old pictures it just looked like I was in drag the whole time lmfao

ANYWAY when I got to college and more removed from the Uber-religious environment I was like “okay I’ll let myself be nonbinary because it’s like a compromise and I can’t go to hell for that right???” and I DID feel happier but still Not Enough. And they/them pronouns felt just as wrong as she/her

Then I fell back into capital-R-Religion for a few more years, harder than ever, bc I was clearly overcompensating lol and just looking for ANY way to fix this unhappiness…

Then I was in a… nonbinary lesbian relationship?? which was SUPER uncomfortable on account of lesbian traditionally means woman attracted to woman and I was low key neither (as in love as I was)

Long story short I guess it eventually got too much for me because I had a breakdown one random night after I got dumped by that person and it just suddenly came to me like “FUCK I AM a boy” and I basically just started like living as one immediately the next day (the internalized transphobia took a lot longer to go away obvs but yeah)

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

maybe it's bc I just got out of the shower and have the Post Shower Motivation Boost but like. sometimes the best things someone can do to improve their day-to-day life isn't like the Big Monumental Lifestyle Changes and "buy this 20-step self help book/guided journal/fancy planner" (not to say I don't have my own fancy planner that I forgot to write in for a month) but more like. little changes/alternatives in daily habits that can help curb bad habits (without necessarily trying to abruptly cut them off) and making the shit you Can't Avoid more bearable where you can

If you have a habit of scrolling social media first thing in the morning and getting mad/upset/overstimulated before you even get out of bed but cutting out the Morning Scroll hasn't worked, or you need your phone on/close by and can't put it across the room to avoid morning scrolling altogether? Get an ebook (I recommend using Libby bc we love supporting public libraries) and put the app icon where your usual Morning Scroll social media usually is. chances are you'll go off of muscle memory and hit the same spot on your phone you usually do for your social media and open your ebook instead. And you'll probably either realize you were gonna get in a morning scroll loop and stop yourself and get started with your day... or you'll read your book and you still satisfy the part of your brain that Wants To Scroll while reading something less overstimulating than just post after post after post on social media

If you have work/schoolwork to do late at night and don't have time/opportunity to just go "fuck it" and do it in the morning? Sometimes it helps to get something comfy and put on music/ambience to help fit a certain Vibe while you work. Lo-fi is one of my go-tos, but putting on a dark/light academia mix with ambient noise like rain/writing sounds playing quietly in the background (this usually involves two youtube tabs) is also one of my usual choices because, while it unfortunately doesn't make my work magically done faster/due later so I can get to bed, it does help to sometimes feel like I'm a Pristine Scholar pursuing Crucial Academic Studies and not a tired college student who just wants to get their paper done and go to sleep

If you have a hard time getting up in the mornings/getting through a morning routine? If you can - if you have a long enough morning routine/a living environment where it's safe/not disruptive to do so - take some of your favorite music, or any kind of music that makes you feel a little happier/less worried or tired, and don't make it your alarm - you'll likely associate it with having to get up and start to dislike it - but make it the music to which you set your morning routine. (Use earbuds if you're worried about waking roommates/family.) It won't make the morning come any later/give you more time to sleep, but in my experience, this made me look forward to getting to carry out my morning routine and thus... look forward more to the mornings themselves

And... yeah. It wont fix everything but sometimes just changing habits here and there can be really helpful

[birb--birb]

Saw someone making a bird wren pin and it caught my eye bc Wren was capitalized on the captions. And it just made me go like...hey, thats me, that's my name.

Every now and then I get these moments of not-quite gender euphoria but something close to it. A deep satisfaction and comfort knowing that I'm me, that I found me, that I'm so very different than I was 10 years ago, and at the same time so much happier.

It just made me think of 17 year old me, sitting on tumblr longing for something to change, to finally leave my hometown and do what I want for the first time without fear of being wrong. That kid had no idea where they'd end up, no idea how to connect with themselves, no idea who they were. It's kinda sad, but not in a "You're still young you have your whole life to figure shit out", more in a "I was too afraid to even perceive myself let alone to even think about wanting things". I didn't let myself want things for a long time and that makes me hurt for little me.

I guess I'm just reflecting on what we talked about in therapy today too.. that someone I looked up to and genuinely cared about doesn't know me anymore, and it's weird. It's weird that I've changed so much and I'm so fucking happy I've changed so much. I finally feel like a full fledged person with wants and emotions and needs and it's so fucking sad that it took me till 28 and years of therapy to get to here, but I'm so fucking proud of myself. I was part of my best friends wedding party with a whole new name and gender and all sorts of wonderful fucked up brain chemicals and a person I called my best friend 6 years ago is now standing in front of me and doesn't know this version of me. It felt like they were from a past life, and that's because they were! It just reminded me that there's a past version of me that people still think of, that some people only knew the 1.0 or 1.52 version of me, but now I'm out here with all new updates and bug fixes and some people never read the patch notes. Others have only ever known me as this 3.682.31 version and all others in between and that's weird but so freaking cool also!

I'm losing my train of thought but just damn 17 year old me would never fucking expect to be where we are today. And I wish I could tell them so many things, not even about gender like yall will figure that out on your own, but I wish I could tell them that shit gets hard and we come out the other end so much better and brighter and different than I ever would have imagined. I wish I could tell them that people care about them, that their needs are important, and that they aren't a burden on anyone in anyway whatsoever. I wish I could tell them that the system is fucked and just do things however they want to, that it's so much fun to embrace the weird and you'll find your people there. I wish I could tell them that bad things are going to happen and you can just say no, you can hit da bricks, leave bc you don't owe anyone anything. A n y t h i n g. I know there was no way out for me other than getting into uni, and there was no way I could avoid rowing, and frankly I wouldn't want to lose the connections I've made through that. I just wish they knew they didn't have to suffer through so much shit, that their worth is not based on what they're capable of doing or providing for someone else.

I think that's it, I think I wish I could tell 17 year old me that just even existing in the world is fucking rad and that's more than enough. You dont owe anyone anything, people love you for you even if you don't know who you are yet. And it's gonna be okay.

And you get some dope ass scars and tattoos and get so much better at video games letsgoooooooo

[brianyololau]

January 4, 2023

starting the year off with good habits. I’m gonna journal lol. kind of weird making a post after i’ve been so lazy to for so long, but there have been too many times where i thought about how journaling would be really good for my mental clarity right now. there were times when i had multiple stressors in my life going on at once, and i didn’t allow myself some way to express and think about these things. i think it’s a necessary process because allowing time to be present creates realizations and through realizations come wisdom & experience.

So here I am. i have a lot to unfold, but I guess i’ll take this one day at a time because i’m busy tonight. today is my first day that i’m working at orange coast memorial hospital night shift 😮‍💨. ur boy’s employed and not just that.. at a muh fudgin HOSPITAL BITCH. I got an ID that scans into computers, opens doors, and everything. I gotta be at work in an hour so imma cut it short.

I made grandma cry today. I didn’t mean to, but I feel like shit for it. I woke up stressed bc I let myself sleep in, I had work to worry about, some fear of how my life is gonna change, and I knew I had more errands I hadn’t finished. So, i got more annoyed when i was microwaving food and grandma kept asking mundane questions that felt like I was being talked to by a robot. no substance. it felt like a chore just speaking to her. so i didn’t as i was eating and she noticed and asked why i was upset. so i basically told her that and said if she wants me to talk to her more she should start asking more personable questions like how i’m feeling and how was my first day at work. she said okay and started crying, so she left to the sofa. I came over and asked what was wrong, and she told me it hurts when i don’t talk to her because she loves me and always wants to talk to me. But i don’t ask about her. I started feeling terrible. I knew she’s been sad and becoming more weak minded. However, I just didn’t feel like I had the power to change her situation which is why I tried to just be there for her in presence, but I should’ve known that wasn’t enough. Even though I’m not good at expressing emotions nonetheless inquiring about them, I realized how important it was to always consider them. Because you never know who you could be affecting by neglecting them. And I had neglected my grandma’s without realizing it.

I apologized. I explained to her that a lot of things in my life recently have made it hard for me to feel at peace and waking up in the morning to these stressors have made me more irritable which made me more cold to her. I told her I never meant to hurt her like that. I could never. Talking to her made me realize that I was ungrateful for the people I have in my life and that I was forgetting who I’m living and trying to be happy with.

What’s the point of striving for success if you’re not making your life any happier? Knowing that my grandma loves me and supports me with everything she has makes me happy enough. How could I forget that?

Grandpa came during this conversation and started demanding me to read something for him. so told him I was busy. he had the audacity to get pissed and tell me it would just take a minute. I raised my voice and repeated myself which i probably shouldn’t have done but he got the message. Immediately he assessed the situation, looked at my grandma and said why’re you crying? who made you cry? hurry up and tell me so i can fix this. she said no one im just feeling sick. she had my back. he then scoffed and said what kinda wife doesn’t share things with her husband and went back to his room. he came back out to get picked up by someone, and i heard him call mutter to himself how grandma was clumsy, slow, and basically a person not worthy of respect. real pos moment right there, myself included as well.

I went to the gym later and told myself that this year, i should stop letting stressors in life affect my personal life at home. they should be mutually exclusive until i remove myself from the comfort of my home because allowing stress into every part of my life is not worth projecting its manifestations onto myself and around the people i love during every waking moment.

[sukunasbabymama]

When someone tries to make them jealous.

⌗ Pairing: Manjiro Sano (Mikey), Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi, Nahoya Kawata (smiley).

⌗ Warnings: Sugestive on Draken’s part but just bc reader is petty as fuck, cursing.

Request.

Manjiro Sano Mikey.

This happens too much with him, people from other gangs or not even in a gang see him so small that their first thought is to mess with him. How wrong they were.

Because he has made his mission to be your protector he doesn’t fight people in front of you for stuff like that, he thinks you don’t deserve a man that loses his cool so easily. And that’s okay, he can do that, but you can’t.

Y’all were at the beach with all the captains and vice-captains, you were laying on your front while Mikey was putting sunscreen on your back when two guys stop just in front of you, you frown and lookup.

“Hey gorgeous, want to play volleyball with us?” One of them says ignoring Mikey on purpose, you feel his hands tense on your back.

“No, thank you”

“Why is that? Oh, is this your lil stepbrother or your boyfriend? Can he even handle all of that?” The other one says motioning to your body, you laugh and see all the captains starting to stand up.

“Do you need him to have his hands on my ass so you can judge if he’s my man?” You take Mikey’s hand and put it on your ass. “Is this enough for you to back the fuck up or do you need me to go there and smack you the fuck up? I’m cool with both”

They were about to say something but if there’s one thing you like more than being praised by Mikey, is putting mfs in their place.

“If another thing comes out of your lame ass mouth toward me then I will be kind enough to let my man use both of yall head as a ball since y'all are so fixed in playing volleyball,” You raise your eyebrows with a small smile. "get. the. hell. outta. my. sight"

Everybody was in shock, they knew Mikey's partner isn't the one to be messed with but they never saw why. This was more than enough proof.

"So I restrict myself from fighting people and you go and do this? "Mikey says with a smile, he bends down a little and kisses your temple.

"You can do that all you want, but ain't nobody gonna disrespect you in front of me, Manjiro," You say deadpan, he hums satisfied.

"I was going to put the ring on your finger anyway, you know"

What's with this mf and his desire of being so damn bold?

Ken Ryuguji Draken.

He doesn't like fighting just anyone because he knows his strength, and he is really sure about his relationship with you. That doesn't mean he doesn't get annoyed as fuck every time someone hit on you, like, he sure as hell ain’t short so they can see his ass right by your side.

You were accompanying him in his bike shop, you do that from time to time because he would be in front of you talking about bikes with a big smile while you were helping him organizing all the documents and sales for him so he can focus on his bikes.

You were doing just that, in a comfy silence and humming a random song when two guys about your age enter the shop.

“Good afternoon, how may we hel—”

“Well damn look at this hottie!” Your smile drops and Draken looks over his shoulders frowning. “Forget why we here, what’s your name?”

“How may we help you, gentlemen?” You say deadpan.

“By letting me take you out, pretty face,” One says and that’s when Draken walks behind the counter, acting like he needs something from the lower drawers.

“That’s not gonna happen,” You say, getting irritated already. Patience was your boyfriend’s virtue, not yours.

“You scared of having a good time? I promise I’ll make you happier than your man” Uh, that’s it.

You grab Draken by his collar and pull him up without breaking eye contact with the guys.

“This man’s right hand can make me feel better than both of you combine could in a whole day with me, please do yourself a favor and don’t embarrass yourself anymore and, get the hell out of my shop” Your tone almost makes Draken get out of the shop too.

After they go out you tried to go back to your work but were interrupted by Draken turning the chair around and getting between your legs.

“I can do that just with my hand?” You roll your eyes and he laughs. “Yes”

“Yes, what?” You ask curiously.

“Yes, this is your shop too, our shop,” He says and smiles.

You pout and he kisses you.

Baji Keisuke.

Now, here… you are just rude. You don’t play that acting respectful first and then snapping, you would snap as soon as someone tries you when you are with your man. Nobody can’t play with the times with your man, period.

You were out on a walk and y’all saw a group of cats so naturally, y’all went to pet them.

“Honey, go and buy food for them, please?” You say while petting the mom of the little family, he nods.

While he was there you put your backpack in the grass and sit on it, putting Baji’s jacket on your thighs because your skirt would betray you if you don’t.

“Oh? And what’s this little one doing here?” An older man says in a flirty tone and you roll your eyes and look up.

“I’m waiting for my man, keep walking buddy,” You say and see Baji coming back with a plastic bag and drinks.

“Mhm, I don’t think he cares about you if he lets a pretty little thing like you alone in—” Baji was in silence with his eyebrows raised, listening to everything behind the man.

“He doesn’t need to care about me meeting creeps like you because I find joy in making them suffer,” You say and the man opens his eyes in surprise. “I’m gonna repeat myself one more time, move or I’ll take the time to rearrange your fucking face”

“Let me know if their warning isn’t enough so I can just skip that and beat your ass past recovery,” Baji says and the man jumps when he hears the deep voice, he walks away fast.

After giving you your drink he starts taking everything out of the plastic bag with a big smile.

“Why you seem so happy?” You ask, he moves and gives you a quick kiss.

“I would never get tired of you cussing people out in my presence,” You roll your eyes. “Whaaat? I take pride in being your man and you stating that fact in every chance you got put me on cloud nine”

“It better be,” You pull him back to your face and smile. “Since I really like you being mine, baby.”

“All yours~” He sings cocky as hell.

Mitsuya Takashi.

Oh, this good soul. You were his total opposite. While he tried to not fight unless he has to, you would always pop off first and ask questions later.

That doesn’t mean you go on life fighting everybody, it’s just that you were fine with being a confrontational person if you feel like you or him are being disrespected.

You were at his crafting club hanging out with him, today you weren’t being his model tho, it was some guy because they need different measurements so you were sitting at his desk comfortably while Mitsuya was moving all over the place.

“Are you a model?” The new guy says, and you smile politely at him.

“I am not,” You say and lean back when he leans forward. Uh, has anybody told him about personal space?

“I think you could be one,” He says in a flirty tone, and at that moment you feel Mitsuya’s hand on your shoulder, letting you know that he can help anytime. “You are really pretty, do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do”

“Well, that doesn’t matter,” He shrugs. “I don’t think he can’t compete, so let’s go—”

Mitsuya closed his eyes with a knowing smile.

“Of course he can’t compete,” You say with a laugh. “Look at him and look at you”

He shows a shocked expression when you lift your hand, sliding it under Mitsuya’s shirt. He’s behind you and that’s the easiest way to demonstrate what you were saying, also because, come on, you want to show off your man. And he has never put your hand away when you do this.

“You can’t compete where you can’t compare, mister universe,” You say in a bored tone, and from where you were you could see his ego being hurt. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to make out with my man before he has to go back to work.”

The boy didn’t even try to talk back, he just went on his way, Mitsuya looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“So we are going to make out, now?” He smiles.

“Yes, please, let’s go,” You say taking his hand and smiling at his satisfied laugh.

Nahoya Kawata Smiley.

This mf, this mf!!

He’s feral, yeah we know, but with you, he tries to not submit into his inner self telling him to whoop the ass of every man that looks your way. Why is this? Because you can match his energy. He’s still thinking of a comeback when you already had the person crying at your feet. So, he prefers to see you being feral.

Y’all were at a ramen shop, both of you and his brother. They like to take you with them on a food tour to taste all kinds of ramen so they could get a hold of what they want for their own shop.

“You like the decoration, baby?” He asks and you hum in agreement.

Y’all thank the waiter when he put the menú on the table, and that’s when he starts being weird.

“Would you like me bringing you some dessert, pretty?” He says with a flirty tone and you let out a giggle when you feel Nahoya hand sliding up your thigh.

“I haven’t even decided what’s gonna be the main dish and you already offering me a dessert, you gonna pay for it?” You smile while sliding your hand upon your man’s thigh, he instantly opening his legs a little bit to give you better access.

“Their boyfriend is literally in front of you…” Souya says confused and you smile at him.

“This kid? This is a whole kid in front of this angel,” He says cocky, and your head snaps to your right to look at Nahoya’s smile tightening, you smile and look at his brother.

“Oh, my baby, there are people like this dumbass who likes to embarrass themselves pulling stupid shit like this,” You smile sweetly and Souya does the same. “That’s what I think because there’s no way in hell that a motherfucker like this think he can compete with a whole Nahoya Kawata”

“Bitch, you—” Before he finishes Nahoya already has jumped over the table and was already punching him in the face.

You see, Nahoya loves to see you feral and for that, he would not submit to his aggressive side, but that ends the moment a person calls you mean names. He doesn’t give a fuck if it’s inside a temple, if someone calls you anything other than your name or a respectful alternative name, they’re gone.

You smile and stand up, you interlock your arms with Souya and resting your head on his shoulder. When the others waiters come out of the kitchen you smile politely at them.

“You can cancel the order from table number 7, we aren’t hungry anymore,” Souya let out a giggle because y’all didn’t actually order anything.

Ah, how funny is to be part of the Kawata twins' dynamics.

@saturnmitsuya bestie i got u some taka content.😩🤞🏾

[kashimos-hajime]

—𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 | 𝒎.𝒂.

summary: “I stopped being good enough for the great Miya Atsumu. Is that it?”

WARNINGS: manga spoilers!! angst, emotional turmoil, relationship struggles, swearing, reasonably enraged reader bc i thrive off of them, thoughts of inadequacy pairing: post time-skip!miya atsumu x actress!reader word count: 4.4k

a/n: lol vent writing!! anyway yeah its messy bc emotions are messy and also, i think relationships are complicated and deserve to be shown as such. also yes, inspired by happier than ever by billie eilish.

unedited and crossposted on ao3 im very tired and would like to just get this out!!!

Meandering near the beginnings of the red carpet, you try not to look like you’re waiting for someone as the rest of the cast go first. Your co-star squeezes you arm for good luck while you hold onto your clutch, scanning the parade of cars slowing down and blocking the entire street for one head of blond hair through the midst.

Twenty-five minutes later, and no show, and you’re digging out your phone. Any other time, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this shitty, but with how overworked you’ve been for the past few months, you’d been looking forward to a fun night with good food, and a whole three weeks of no work, and you wanted to spend it with him.

And he just won’t show.

“Hey!” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Wakatoshi pushes through the crowd towards you, smiling faintly. He looks wonderful in a suit, and you embrace him quickly before pulling back, holding him by the shoulders and inspecting him. 

“Why’re you here?” you ask curiously. “I didn’t—“

He ducks his head, pretending to fix something on your dress as cameras flash and you swallow.

“He’s not coming. You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Wakatoshi whispers and you turn to face him, slanting your body strategically away from the cameras. 

Desperately not-so-heartbroken: “How do you know?”

“I saw the state he was in,” is the only answer you need. “Shimizu-san would’ve come, but—“

“It’s okay. I know the baby’s on the way,” you reply deftly, swallowing your injured pride. “I’ll try to get through this as quick as possible and get to the table.” Wakatoshi nods, complimenting you on your dress before offering his arm. Taking it, you plaster that smile for the cameras onto your face with superglue. Nothing’s sloughing it off tonight.

Of course he’s not coming, you think to yourself as the volleyball player escorts you down the red carpet. You guys look great together—everyone says so—but everyone knows, too, that there’s someone who should’ve been there, who would’ve smiled more, made more jokes. Ushijima is the perfect carpet partner in the sense that he makes sure you’re always comfortable, but you don’t love him.

But of course he wouldn’t come, you think.

It’s the day after a game. He likes to take those days all to himself.

Bitterness builds up in your throat.

Wakatoshi takes away the name card that displays someone else’s name before anyone catches it as they sit down at the awards show, and you silently note to repay him somehow. He hates these kinds of events, and yet he bares every single one of them just because you need someone and you wonder why he always drops everything for you. 

It’s honestly terrible. It feels misleading. It feels like you’re using him, and he lets you do so happily—or at least with gritted teeth because it’s you.

“Wakatoshi,” you begin, but he only sends you a warning look and a subtle shake of his head.

Don’t worry about it, the gesture seems to say.

Taking out your phone, you glance at your messages to see if Atsumu’s even bothered to read them.

Delivered stares back at you in cold grey letters.

.

Ever since you’ve gotten home, it’s been a match between you and Atsumu. Not quite screaming, but hot-tempered and full of serrated words that eviscerate anything they come into contact with. You feel like you’re less a person and more tattered ribbons of flesh and blood, with a throbbing head and aching feet, and you just want to eat, shower, slip into something more comfortable, but Atsumu won’t let up. He smells like beer, but his eyes are sharp, rich with annoyance, and his face is flushed with the incredulity of his expression.

Like you’re the one being unreasonable. Like your anger at him isn’t justifiable.

But you’re not, and it is, and you are fucking done. 

So you whirl around, making him stop in his tracks. He’s still in his outdoor clothes—you learnt that he’d come home only minutes before you—and his hair is windswept and he’s so handsome it used to make your teeth ache, but now, it only fuels the pyre of your rage, and so you demand the answer to one question. The one question you feel needs to be answered.

“Do you even realize how you treat me?”

It’s a strong way to finish an argument. Sobering, at least.

For once, you feel as if you’ve said something that will actually sink into his thick brain and a terrible flash of triumph surges through you when Atsumu stares at you like you’ve punched a hole in his heart.

God, if only you could do it a hundred times over. You think you have enough sadness to fill a thousand graveyards.

By Atsumu’s silence, you know his answer.

“I called you eight times tonight, Atsumu. Eight. You promised me you would show up, and I wanted to know if you were even coming, but you didn’t even bother to let me know. If you were even safe, if something had happened.” You manage to keep your voice level as you turn to head into their bathroom so you can shower and slough off this day. You’re not hungry anymore. “I won fucking Best Actress, I dedicated it to you because you are my everything, and you were out drinking with your friends and driving like you’re the one out of a movie. Like your actions don’t have consequences on me, too. What if you had died? What if when you called me for the first time tonight, it was because you had wrapped your car around a pole?”

“You’re overreacting—“

“No, I’m not.” Calmly, you take off your earrings and set them on the vanity, staring at your reflection and taking deep breaths so you don’t give in to the trembling feeling in your chest and begin to cry. Your makeup is too good to be smeared by anything other than makeup remover. “I’m not, because this is not the first time you’ve done this to me, and it clearly won’t be the last considering instead of enjoying myself tonight with my friends, I was instead worried to death over you. Again.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I have a headache and I’m going to bed.”

“C’mon. You know I’m sorry.”

“I don’t actually,” you inform coolly. “I never know what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling because you’re never actually here for us to communicate that.” Pulling off your fake eyelashes, you set them aside gently before sliding out of your dress, and Atsumu moves to help you with the zipper like he used to. Twisting to allow him access, you allow your molten gaze to rest on the tile of their bathroom. Once he’s pulled it down, he steps back.

He used to try to sneak kisses before you took your lipstick off.

You sigh and begin the arduous task of removing your makeup after moving the dress to your bed to deal with later.

“Baby,” he says. Your eyeshadow blurs, the sparkles smearing all over your face and you sigh as the eyeliner streaks too, leaving haunting black trails everywhere. When you look at him, you’re sure you’re quite a monstrous sight.

Bluntly (you think you don’t have the energy to care anymore): “What?”

“I don’t want us to fight.”

You scoff. “You think I want to fight on what’s supposed to be the night of my greatest achievement? Not that you would know. You don’t care about anything except volleyball and it makes me wonder, honestly, why are we even in a relationship?”

Atsumu stares at you dimly and you meet his gaze, the fight in you leaving all of a sudden. You just want to go to bed, you realize. Take back what you have left of the night. 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers. You click your tongue when the remover gets into your eyes, squinting a bit and rinsing it out with water. “You know that the reason we are here is because we are in this together. It’s always been you and me, and that is all we ever needed.” The cold numbs your cheek and you wipe at your face gently, patting it dry before screwing up your face in the mirror and tentatively opening the affected eye. When your vision doesn’t blur, you glance over at your boyfriend. “Say something. Please.”

“It was you and me,” you acknowledge, ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut. “I don’t know when that changed, but it did, and I don’t care that you have friends. I don’t care that you go out with them because I love the Jackals, you know that, but it’s not fair that you treat me like this, Atsumu, like some second-class hook-up rather than your fucking girlfriend, and I’m not going to just lie down and take it.”

He nods and doesn’t say another word. You slip into the shower soon after, the bathroom door closing and blocking him off from you.

When you leave, the lights are dim and it’s quiet. Atsumu is sleeping on his side of the bed, in his pajamas and hair still a bit damp—he must’ve used the guest bathroom—and your dress is nowhere in sight. With a quick glance at the closet, you see it’s been hung up and you scurry to protect your fake eyelashes, sliding them back into their case. As you do so, you note your jewelry back on their rack sans the earrings which you hook on moments later, and there’s something warm as you slide into the bed.

Shifting, you look and find a heated pad switched on for you. With a gentle sigh, your heart wilts in your chest as you turn it off and tuck it in the shelf of your nightstand. Then, you reach up to switch off the lights and fall asleep with your back to him.

.

The morning after, you wake up before Atsumu and head into the kitchen just to grab yourself a cup of coffee while you scroll through your phone to find a suitable gift for Wakatoshi. Leaning on the kitchen counter, you nurse your headache as you check Twitter and Instagram, knowing the posts made on both accounts would’ve garnered a fair share of likes, comments, and the standard hate. There’s news article after news article about you and Wakatoshi about sparks flying, which you firmly ignore, before liking a few congratulatory tweets from fans and friends alike.

Your publicist has sent you the red carpet photos which you upload immediately onto Instagram, tagging Wakatoshi and the appropriate brands you were wearing along a witty caption. Your friend immediately likes it and you snort to yourself, sending him a quick text teasing him for being on his phone when he must have practice, but he only sends back a short response (‘they got my good side’) which means you caught him at the tail-end of his first waterbreak of the day.

Smiling to yourself, you continue to nurse your coffee as Atsumu makes his appearance for the day. His hair is messy and falling all over his face, and he’s still wearing his pajamas, feet shuffling in his slippers. You barely remember the last time you saw him wear them and you stuff down your heartache. The remnants of what you said still linger, and while you don’t regret it, it makes the air frazzled with buzzing tension. You just want to relax today, and you wonder if it’s even possible to postpone their fighting for one more day.

You can deal with it tomorrow. Today… today, you just want to see Kiyoko and talk to Yukie, and maybe pop in to Tendou’s for some treats. You want this to yourself. You want…

“Mornin’,” he says, disturbing your line of thought. His eyes brighten for a flash of a second upon seeing you still in their apartment before he dims again, shoulders slouching. Clearly he hasn’t forgotten either.

Good.

“Morning,” you reply as Atsumu pours himself a glass of water and chugs it down. You tilt the rest of your coffee down your throat and straighten up. “Going to practice? You guys probably have a debrief from the game yesterday today. You can’t miss that.”

“I was thinkin’ of taking the day off, actually,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck before flipping through his hair as if dusting something off his silky head. “We need to talk.”

“We can talk when you come back.” You set your mug down in the sink. Your insides are nothing but numb and any good mood you had dissipates like smoke. You don’t know when the prospect of talking to Atsumu felt more like a dreaded chore than the best way you could’ve spent your time, but it’s happened and the guilt is stronger than the hurt you know is on his face. “I’m not working today, so… you just go. Have a good practice.”

“What about a lunch date?” he proposes. You shake your head.

“No, thanks. I don’t feel like leaving the apartment.” A lie that’s starting to feel more true if Atsumu’s going to practice. Making your way to the living room, you bypass him but his hand shoots out to take a gentle hold of your elbow.

“Baby…”

You pull away. “What?”

“We really need to talk,” he says. You look at him fully, eyes searching his expression. He’s begging you with all his might, eyes wide, mein twisted into an expression he knows tugs at your entire being to bend to his will, but you shake your head.

“I think… I think what we need is time to re-evaluate what we want,” you reply carefully. Cleaning up the living room slowly, you pick up a few books and return them to their places on their shelves, examining the plants as you pass by. Atsumu stands by the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, and you step over his box of fanmail he has yet to get to. “And whether or not this relationship can continue down the path its heading.”

“What I want?” he echoes, incredulous. “I want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Well, it really doesn’t feel like it.” Returning to the kitchen, you fill up a watering can. “It feels more like a PR relationship, and barely at that, so it’s making me wonder why you even want to be here.”

“Because I love you,” he says it like it’s obvious. You shake your head. “You have to believe me: I have loved no one but you for the past five years.”

“Right.” You set the watering can down on the counter with a harsh clang. “So why did Wakatoshi have to come last night?”

“Baby—“

“That’s my first question. It really is. If you love me so much, why do you never show up?” A fire ignites under your heart as you speak, and a tightness balls up in your throat. You plant your feet into the floor, squaring your shoulders and taking a deep breath. “Why do I have to make myself look like a fool waiting around for you?” Atsumu’s face goes lax as you glare at him wretchedly. “You used to show up to every little thing, even when I said you didn’t have to, and now… now I don’t even deserve a text. Is that it?” The colour drains from his face but you can’t bring yourself to care. “I stopped being good enough for the great Miya Atsumu. Is that it?”

He gapes. “No! No, you are more than I deserve, I just… I love you. I love you so much and I try to give you everything! I swear I do. It’s why I take so many ad offers, too. I care about these brands, but the money’s good, too! An’ I swear… I swear you are enough—“

“But, I don’t need you to cover for me anymore!” Voice spiking, you cringe at how loud you are but sleeping on it has only made everything increase exponentially in how fucking angry you are. “Look, I really am grateful that I have you. You believed in me before anyone else did, and I love you for that. I loved that you knew what I had in me before I did, but I got such a big break. I’ve been working my ass off for the past year and it paid off last night. Not that you would know. How’d you find out that I won? Twitter? Did one of our friends text you?”

Slack-jawed, Atsumu says nothing besides a hoarse answer of ’TV.’

A beat. Two.

You had prepared for it.

You had really prepared for it. But hearing it is a whole other story. 

He had watched you win and even still, he didn’t rush to your side, the invite you’d given him stored in his pocket?

Are you just not the effort?

You wonder why Wakatoshi even bothered to come, then.

“Live?” you press on quietly, just to be sure.

“The whole thing,” he confirms in a whisper. “You looked gorgeous, baby.”

Quiet sounds like the wrong word for the moments that follow. It’s more akin to a dead, mournful silence, and it’s enough to choke the life out of you as you stare at Atsumu incredulously, your mind buzzing with so much, yet, at the same time, a blur of nothingness. You don’t know what you want to say—too much at once, that’s for sure.

“So you remembered,” you say at length, evenly and apathetically, “that I had something last night, something important to me, and you still decided to be elsewhere because I just wasn’t a priority for you.”

Atsumu takes a step forward. “That is not what I meant.”

You remain rooted by the sink. “That is exactly what you meant.”

.

Atsumu doesn’t go to practice. You water the plants and busy yourself until there’s nothing left to do.

“Do you want breakfast?” he asks quietly as they sit on the couch in tense silence. It’s been like this for the past thirty minutes as you sit on the couch alone, on the seat farthest away from where Atsumu is perched on a stiff beanbag, leaning forward on his knees. Your own feet are propped up on the coffee table and you rest your arm on the armrest, resting your cheek against your fist and staring blankly at the black screen of the TV.

You don’t know what you’ve been thinking. Probably a vicious cycle of the same thoughts that continue to stab at your heart—the idea that Atsumu’s finally bored of you and the only reason he keeps you around is to hype himself up. It’s a wretched thought, but you can’t shove it out of your head.

“Babe?” he prompts, and you blink, turning to look at him. “You want any breakfast?”

You get up at his question, and his expression lifts hopefully.

“I can do it,” you tell him. It’d give you something to do and to firmly pack those thoughts away. “I’ll make something. What do you wanna eat—“

“No. I’m doing it,” he insists, springing to his feet and walking after you, surpassing you quickly and getting to the fridge first. Your shoulders fall at his eagerness, and you feel a bit of stiffness leave your body as he pulls out eggs, scallions, and tomatoes before humming to himself. “I can make us some omelettes. Whaddya think?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” You watch him for a moment. Atsumu’s a great chef—as a professional athlete and with a chef as a brother, there’s no doubt he would be—so you leave him to his devices, heading back to the couch. You pick up your phone, scanning for any important texts. Congratulatory texts from most of their friends who you’re not as close with and probably only found out this morning, plus a few from your manager asking how you’re doing.

You reply with a quick fine and an update on what you’re doing for the day (a day at home, soooo tired) which is only half-truth but it seems to to be the theme today, and then the thoughts slowly inch back, crawling with terrible claws that dig into the folds of your brain.

“Babe, you want peppers in yours?” Atsumu calls over the chopping of his knife.

“No, thank you.”

And so it continues. You continue scrolling through your phone, through Twitter and Instagram until you’ve had your fill. The mouth-watering promise of breakfast floats through the air and you glance into the kitchen, hopeful. 

When Atsumu finally calls you over, you can’t help the urge to put a spring in your step—you don’t humour it, but it’s there. It’s been so long since you’ve had Atsumu’s cooking, but even the notion itself weighs down in your heart as he pulls out your chair and sets cutlery down before heading around the table and sitting down.

Atsumu has his phone on the surface, and his screen keeps lighting up with notifications, yet he resolutely ignores it. Your eyes keep flashing to it against your own will, and you duck your head, stabbing at the omelette unhelpfully as they begin to eat after their murmured prayers. 

You wait to see if he’ll take it, but when his phone buzzes and he still keeps staring at you, you shake your head.

“Just check your phone,” you tell him flatly. “It’s whatever.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Atsumu, seriously, don’t play cute. I’m not going anywhere.” You’re quickly losing your appetite, but manage to keep your tone civil. “Just check your phone.”

So he does, because with any one else, it would’ve been a trap, but that’s never how it’s been between you two. He is only on there for a few minutes anyway before he’s setting his phone down, eyes downcast and face considerably paler than before.

You want to ask what he’d seen to make him look so ghostly, but you’ve had a gander on what the press are saying already.

After all, it’s one pro volleyball player taking the place of another pro volleyball player, and Ushijima, notorious for his tight-lipped courtesy and short answers regarding his privacy to the press, does not help matters. You’re sure if you had to step foot outside your apartment, papparazzi would be swarming you the instant they spotted you on the streets.

You eat quietly while Atsumu soaks in the headlines blasting you and Ushijima Wakatoshi, more famously known as the Schweiden Adler Southpaw, as the newest, hottest couple-to-be, and the silence is insufferable.

“They’re speculatin’ that you left me for Ushijima-san,” Atsumu informs at length. Your omelette’s three-quarters gone and you’ve been stabbing at a stray piece of scallion for the past two minutes. “The pictures of you two look real cozy, so I don’t blame ‘em.”

Your head jerks up. “Are you blaming anyone else?” you inquire icily. 

Atsumu shakes his head. “No. If you want to be with someone else, that’s no one’s fault, but if you’ve thought about breaking up with me, I think that’s something we should discuss.” A beat. “So… have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Thought about breaking up with me.”

Your chest cramps. It feels like it’s been doused in ice-cold waters. “Yes,” you admit, “but not really the breaking up. More the idea of being alone and not being disappointed all the time.”

He deflates. It makes you sick to your stomach how good it feels that he’s finally feeling the damage he’s inflicted on you. “I see.”

He better, you think resentfully. Out loud, you continue: “And it wasn’t just last night, you know, or all the nights before where you just decided to be a flake. It’s every time you don’t listen to me when I’m worried about you, or even text me back and then just show up and pretend it’s okay. You won’t always have me, Tsumu.” Atsumu looks up at you, eyes half-mast and inconsolable, but you only stare back devoid of emotion. “You know that right?”

He looks as if he’s never considered the possibility. 

Now, it’s staring at him in the face.

You stab at the end of your omelette, watching the egg fall apart. Scooping it into your mouth, you watch him and rest your cheek against your fist, chewing slowly. 

The distracted sound of his fork against porcelain continues to scratch the edge of the quiet that has fallen over them until Atsumu asks if you’re finished eating because he’ll do the dishes, and then maybe they can talk, and—

“Yeah, I’m done,” you cut him off mid-sentence. 

It feels like it means more than breakfast. 

Your boyfriend takes the plate from in front of you as you wipe your mouth carefully, and he pauses beside you. You eye him. It’s hard to feel the anger that wracks your entire soul when he’s standing beside you. Instead, you just feel tired, and empty, and you miss him more than you can breathe.

“I’m in love with you.” He’s begging with everything he can. It won’t be long before he falls to his hands and knees, but you think they both know it’s too late for that.

“I know,” you answer, standing. Muted brown eyes find yours, soft with surrender and you step back, chair thumping against the floor. “I’m going to head out. I just… need to clear my head. I think we both do.”

This time, he does not fight you. You change quickly, and gather your bags, and when you leave, he presses a soft kiss to your temple. His hand grasps onto your bicep as if, when he lets go, you will disappear from his life forever. Your chest is hollow, and your heart wilts like a flower, drowning in a rainstorm.

Who knows what the future holds?

“Goodbye, Tsumu,” you say, and wonder how he will answer.

He only gives you a limp smile. It hangs off his face awkwardly, and his eyes are shining. 

“Bye, love.”

You can’t help but bitterly agree. 

Goodbye, love, indeed.

[wearequeer-andwearehere]

I think I’m a lesbian and it’s been hard for me to because I used to think that I was going to marry a man when I was a little kid and I’m scared to come out to family and friends

Alright it’s like 10:08 pm and I have like, two tests tomorrow and am half asleep and probably should answer this when I am more awake and calmer but this ask really. Touched me bc I know how this feels.

I’m not a lesbian. I’m a bi trans dude, I spent a good part of my tween/teen years IDing as a sapphic bisexual girl/nonbinary person.

Anon, I don’t know you, but I’m gonna talk to you like a friend for a bit.

Discovering you’re gay is. A whole lot of things. It’s a whole lot of emotions. 

First, it’s fucking scary to find this out. Like, sometimes, you’re like, who am I? Who is this new part of myself? And suddenly you realise that you haven’t only been repressing you’re gay, you’ve been repressing, like, everything about yourself, everything about who you are.

And you’re scared you’re a new person but. You gotta take it slow. You gotta take it as it comes. Importantly, you gotta be safe, hide shit around people who will hurt you. But be yourself quietly. Sometimes the flood will break and like not to mix metaphors but you gotta let yourself bloom, okay, kiddo? You gotta let yourself bloom like a flower in spring and let everything unfold quietly in your heart. 

And like, you’ve got this perception of yoursrlf, right? Like when you were a kid, you knew you had to marry a man, and you built up this future, this one single path, and you fixed all your focus on it and now the paths crumbling before your eyes and like. It shakes you. It makes you feel like your world’s falling apart.

But that’s. That’s not true. There was a path that was determined for you by straight people, to marry a guy.

But here’s the thing. The secret to life. You, yes, you, can do whatever the fuck you want. And it’s figuring this out that changes your perspective and makes you infinitely happier.

Kiddo you can be yourself. You do not have to marry a man. There are a million other paths for you, yknow that? Just look away from the one determined for you for a moment and *see the fuckin world,* see these infinite possibilities, these infinite lives to live!!! Isn’t that fucking beautiful? Your whole life lays before you!!!!!

You don’t have to marry a man. You can marry a woman, or a nonbinary person! You don’t have to get married, you don’t have to be in a relationship if you don’t want to! 

I know the emphasis society places on female heterosexuality being the norm but like. I need you to understand, and this is crucial, that this is bullshit.

You do not need to date, have sex with, be attracted to, love, or marry men. Ever. At all. You don’t have to to even talk to them that much. 

Sometimes you just gotta look at society’s bullshit and say “no, fuck you actually,” and that’s how you gotta keep going.

And ohh God I know that fear kiddo. It’s really painful, isn’t it? It’s like there’s a bullet hole in your heart and it won’t ever stop bleeding

And I gotta tell you that no matter what happens with ya family and friends there will always, always, always be so so many people who will lvoe and support you. You’ve got a whole fuckin community here for you kid, you’ve got a history of people like you, you’ve got the lesbian community and the lgbtq+ community all over the world and we’re fighting for our, for your rights, for our and your safety and happiness and we fuckin love you, kid. 

First off, there is no need to come out if you don’t wanna. Take your time. No pressure. 

Second, be safe, alright? Find out their attitude towards gay people first, test the waters by mentioning gay celebrities. And also, if you’re a minor and financially dependent on your parents, if they’re homophobic DO NOT COME OUT. It can be mentally shit but your physical safety is important.

And last of all, I love you kiddo. Being a lesbian is, honestly, cool as fuck. You have any idea what an amazing community lies in wait for you? I’m not a lesbian, but I have a lot of lesbian friends, they are some of the most resilient comforting strong wonderful amazing people I have ever met. Lesbianism is so beautiful and sapphic relationships,,,the amount of love yall have for each other is so special and beautiful.

Anyways, you are strong and you are loved. I hope I could help kid. Love you.

[hangovercurse]

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay  in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

[ethanesimp]

AMAMI PER SEMPRE // E.T.

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x Fem! Reader

Summary: Ethan isn’t the brightest—or the best—when it comes to surprises, so his attempt at proposing to you causes a few misunderstandings...

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, a tiny tiny mention of death, some angst, other than that it’s pure fluff and me projecting my obsession with old books onto the reader.

Request: Ethan planning to propose and acting super nervous and strange (a bit angsty bc the reader doesn’t know what’s happening) and ending in pure fluff.

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: After more than a year of stepping foot into a bookstore for *cough* obvious reasons, I got to go to one yesterday. While looking at some second-hand books I had an idea that I decided to combine with @kawaiiwxnnabe​’s lovely request to bring you this. I hope you enjoy! <3 

Ethan had been mindlessly listening to Damiano sing Amandoti when the thought of marrying you first seriously crossed his mind. It had been a thing he’d thought of countless times ever since he started dating you, but it had never remained with as much intensity as it had that time. 

Damiano, who had noticed his friend’s face illuminate all of a sudden, had a talk with him that once and for all convinced Ethan that it was the right time and you were the right person. He didn’t sleep at all that night because he couldn’t stop thinking about what would be the perfect way to propose to you. It was no secret to him—or anyone who knew you—that you were a hopeless romantic. 

There was nothing that made you happier than simple and small details that came from the heart. That was the reason why you had developed an affinity towards old books. Not only did they have a particular and special scent that reminded you of vanilla and chocolate, but some had the luck—as you liked to call it—of being embellished by notes on margins or dedications on covers. Whether they were about love, sorrow, or maybe even hate, they still showed a small glimpse into the life of the person who had once owned it. Those notes told a story that would prevail even long after they were gone from the earth. 

Ever since he had noticed that small obsession of yours, Ethan had tried to help you expand your treasured collection by bringing you back books he found at antique stores from every country the band played in. 

During a visit to Spain after he initially had his stirring thought, Ethan took the chance to visit one of the second-hand shops he’d found during a night stroll with Victoria, who had disappeared into a bakery. His main goal was to find something different from the usual books he brought back for you. 

After he walked into the store and vaguely told the old lady at the counter about his idea in the best Spanish he could muster, she smiled warmly at him and guided him to the very back of the tiny shop where a beautiful and worn out bookshelf sat in all its glory, filled with as many books as it could hold. 

He immediately started searching around for the perfect book, but it proved to be harder than he initially thought it’d be. After searching around for more than an hour, all he had found was a collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s tales and poems with a heartbreaking note to someone’s dead lover. While it had almost brought him to tears and was a special thing he’d buy to give to you later, it wasn’t exactly the best thing to help him carry out his plan.   

Victoria walked into the shop when he was about to give up and, fully aware of his plan, started looking around without saying a word to him. They both searched around the messy piles of books for something. It didn’t take long for her to stumble across three books held together by a lilac satin ribbon. 

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. All three contained a note on the very first page right under the title, but the last one stood out above the other two because, according to his basic knowledge of Spanish, it ended with the very question he wanted to ask ¿Quieres casarte conmigo? Or ‘Will you marry me?’. He bought all three of them after a huge smile and a thumbs up from Victoria.  

What he hadn’t expected was for them to remain hidden in a drawer he knew you never opened underneath piles of clothes. Ever since he came back from their small trip to Spain, Ethan had tried to ask the question about six times, but always ended up choking on his words and saying something else. In fact, the first time he ever tried, Ethan chickened out at the last second and ended up giving you the Edgar Allan Poe anthology instead.

You were still none the wiser to his plan even after he’d asked about your opinion on marriage a few times. Anyone would’ve probably caught up with what was going on already, but you were always so busy with things happening around you that you didn’t connect his awkward and nervous attitude with his questions.

You didn’t start giving his actions a second thought until one night… You had been cooped up in your office all day working on a new project you were supposed to present to your boss by the end of the week when you suddenly felt the urge to get up and walk around the house.

Ethan was casually sitting on the couch as he whispered unintelligible words into his phone. You supposed he was on a call with a friend or maybe his manager and was trying to be quiet to avoid disturbing you, but then he hung up the call with a panicked expression the moment he noticed you. After that, you started thinking back on the way he had been behaving ever since he returned and it all raised the suspicion that there was something strange going on. 

It didn’t get any better when he kept on acting weird. Simple things that he had allowed you to do, like using his phone to take pictures because it had a better camera than yours, now seemed to make him almost mad. He’d even snapped at you once when you tried to grab it to take a picture with him. Even if Ethan had apologized right away, it still didn’t calm you down, especially because he had gone as far as to change the password on it.

It almost felt like he was walking on eggshells around you and you didn’t like it one bit. Your relationship had always been about honesty and worked because of constant communication. Everything was just so strange that your mind couldn’t help but think of the worst.

You were an imaginative person who never had any difficulties when it came to envisioning things clearly. Unfortunately, that also applied to every negative thought that crossed your mind, so it wasn’t hard for you to start coming up with the worst explanations as to why he was acting so suspicious. It didn’t help much that he had been busier than normal because the band was wrapping up on their latest album, so you hadn’t had the opportunity to sit down and voice all your concerns, to ask if something was going on and if there was a way to fix it. 

The morning of your anniversary, you’d finally had enough. You had woken up, expecting to feel Ethan’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist and to receive a shower of kisses the moment he noticed you were awake, but no. There was no Ethan and the side of his bed was already neatly made.

Your disappointment only grew when he wasn’t in the kitchen or his small studio where he had his drums. You doubted he was in the house at all. 

It was a thing that wouldn’t have affected you much had he done it any other time, but with everything that had been going on as of late, you could only fear the worst. So, without being able to control yourself, you started making the worst conclusions. You’d always been fully aware that he loved you, but all the signs undoubtedly pointed at him meeting someone new… And maybe he was going to leave you for them as well… during your anniversary.

That was all you needed to break into tears. You climbed back into bed and cried for what seemed to be hours. Even since you got together, you had thought of him as your person, your forever. The thought of him leaving you broke your heart into tiny pieces.

Ethan arrived home only a few minutes after you’d buried yourself underneath all the blankets and cried out all your worries. When he was about to open the door to your bedroom, he stopped. Were you crying? 

He stood there in complete silence for a few seconds until he was more than sure that you were, in fact, crying. Ethan rushed inside and he felt his heart break at the sight of you looking so heartbroken, and it didn’t get any better when he heard a whimper come out of your mouth at the sight of him. You cuddled deeper into the bedsheets and turned away from him.

Ethan sat on your side of the bed and, as delicately as possible, he cupped your face into his warm hands and wiped your tears with his thumbs, “Amore,” He said in a quiet voice, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You tried to turn away from him, but his grip on your face stopped you from doing so. You placed one of your hands on top of his and gave it a firm squeeze. No part of you was ready to have that conversation with him because that was going to be it and you were going to have to watch him leave…

So, with a lot of courage, you spoke the first words that came to mind, “You know, i-it’s okay if you’ve found someone else,” You caressed his cheek softly as more tears started spilling down your face, “You can tell me if you have.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your words and the only thing he could do was shake his head no, “What? Found someone else? What would make you say such a thing dolcezza?”

Then, before you could even answer, realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt like the stupidest living being on the face of the Earth. He pinched his nose and sighed, annoyed at himself.

“Fuck… I’m so fucking stupid. Please don’t ever think of something like that. I was just… I-I,” Clueless as to what to say, Ethan pressed his lips against yours to kiss you slowly, hoping it spoke more than his words ever could. He could still taste a trace of the salty tears that had fallen on your lips and he couldn’t help but shed a few of his own at the thought that he’d been the one to make you cry.

After pulling away, Ethan pressed his forehead to yours and brushed his nose against yours while his arms held you as close as possible, “Will you close your eyes for just a second, amore mio? I promise everything will make so much sense soon.”

You nodded and kept your eyes closed as you felt him get up from the bed. You heard him open and close a few drawers, and look around for something for a while before he sat back on the bed. Ethan grabbed your hands in his and slowly slipped the three small books into your grasp.

You opened his eyes after a small sound of approval from him and smiled when you saw the three old books held together by a ribbon and the pretty pink rose that had been carefully been slipped into the first book and the ribbon.

You gently removed the flower and placed it on your side. Then you undid the simple knot and picked up the first book, “Wuthering Heights?” You questioned.

He nodded, “Yeah… At least I think that’s it. I hope I didn’t bring back some sketchy book or some shit,” Ethan scratched his neck and you giggled as you opened it on the first page. Your fingers brushed over the letters neatly written down in fountain pen.  

After clearing your throat, you started reading the first dedication out loud. Since your Spanish wasn’t exactly the best either, you had to pause every once in a while to translate all the words, “May 17, 1850… My dearest Helena, I hope this book reaches you in great condition, being apart from you is one of the hardest challenges I have ever had to face, one of the most painful as well. I hope you can find me in between these pages as you read and remember how much I love you, remember how much I long to be back in your arms and kiss your lips. Sincerely, Alejandro.”

You closed it and placed it back on the bed before opening the second book and doing the same thing with the third, “January 24, 1855. Carolina, nothing I’ve ever experienced has gotten close to being as terrible as not having you in my arms. Apologies are overdue… long overdue. Words have never been my strongest suit, yet I still hope I can coherently express just how much I love you, all of you. I’m afraid I’m already too late since you will soon be betrothed to someone else and there will be nothing I can do by then.

 “Still, I hope with everything in my being that this arrives sooner so you’re aware of how sorry I am. I hope you remember that I would do anything you asked without a single complaint just to watch that lovely smile I adore so much appear on your face. If you ever come back to me, I promise with every fiber of my being, and I’ll be dammed if I don’t keep my promise, that I will leave everything behind and escape with you. Anywhere, any time. So with that, I ask a question that will hopefully have a yes as an answer. Will you marry me? With love, Javier.”

Before you could close it, Ethan stopped you and timidly asked for you to open the book on the very last page. You did it and looked back at him with confusion at the sight of his writing on the page, “Read this one out loud for me. Will you Y/N?” You nodded and mumbled a small ‘of course’ before clearing your throat to get rid of the knot that had formed. 

“October 21, 2025… Y/N, my one true love, I’ve always hoped to make a gesture that will remind you of your treasured books. I’ve never been one great with words spoken out loud, so I sought inspiration from those before me who were just as in love with someone as I am with you. Ever since I met you I dreamt of one day settling down with you, of having our small home in the countryside as you’ve always dreamed of. Maybe even doing some of those cloying gestures people seem to do in fiction and dedicate to you the most beautiful love poems I lay eyes on. 

“I’ve wondered for a while how I could ever take the step that would bring me closer to that goal, yet every time I try, words seem to get stuck in my throat with no way out and I end up in square one all over again. It is with this note that I hope to finally take a step in the right direction because I know you’re it for me. You’re my person, my forever, and there’s nothing I would love more than to share my life with you. Sei la mia migliore amica e il mio unico vero amore. Ti chiedo di accettare il mio amore, il mio nome e tutto quello che sono.” (You are my best friend and my one true love. I ask you to accept my love, my name, and everything I am.)

When your eyes spotted the four words that followed, you slowly lowered the book, “Will you marry me?” You both said at the same time, although yours sounded more like an unintelligible mumble. Only then did you notice him down on one knee right in front of you. He held a velvet box with one of the most beautiful rings sitting inside of it 

A hand went to cover your mouth as tears started falling down your face. This time, happy and free of worry. You could only nod repeatedly, overcome with pure joy as your heart swelled with love.

He slowly slid the ring into your finger and grabbed your face to kiss you once again, “I’m so sorry I made you think something else was going on. I just kept backtracking every time I tried to tell you. Not because I was regretting the decision but because I didn’t want to lose you.”

You shook your head as a silent way of saying it was alright and brushed his hair back with your fingers, “The important thing is that you’ve done it and you’re not going to lose me, no matter how hard you try. I’ll always be right here because I love you and I’ll always be yours.”

[steveharrington]

that’s interesting bc my dad REALLY liked the “i am the curse scene”. personally i liked it (i enjoyed hopper’s character more in s4 than in s3 for sure, but s1 and s2 hopper are peak). idk s3 hopper just felt unnecessarily angry and emotionally immature in a way that i didn’t see hopper as being in earlier seasons, i could not imagine s2 hopper yelling at kids the way he did in s3. whereas s4 hopper feels more in line with his previous characterization, but like…. less saturated with that character, if that makes sense. s3 hopper felt to me at times like a different guy, whereas s4 hopper was the same guy but like they’d toned down a lot of his traits. i thought his “i am the curse” speech was probably his strongest moment this season tho idk. but rewatching the show from the start and seeing him in s1 currently…. where is the flavor. the specific hopper spunk. it’s missing from s4 hopper. if that even makes any sense

that is so interesting because i honestly thought s3 hopper was more himself than s4 hopper. like i think they definitely overdid it at times for comedic effect in s3, but hopper has always been very exasperated by the kids. all the way back in s1 in what i thiiiink is his first scene with mike dustin and lucas he's like clearly so irritated with them and yells at them for bickering among themselves. i think the issues in hopper's characterization in s3 is that they picked weird overplayed tropes to display his exasperation. the whole overprotective dad thing mixed with the love/hate antagonistic relationship he suddenly had with joyce made him just seem like a dick. then i think in s4 they realized that people didn't really like s3 hopper so they tried to overcompensate and fix their mistakes and it just. erased all of hopper's personality. like look i get that he's in captivity and realistically he's gonna be somber and lifeless and shit i get that BUT. its stranger things. notoriously its characters still have very strong personalities in the midst of disaster and trauma. sometimes they get even stronger (ahem ahem steve and robin) but the opposite happens with hopper in s4. the whole time watching this season i was like dam when is hopper gonna show up.

i think the reason his s4 speech fell flat to me compared to his s2 speech is because it just felt so. meaningless. the core of what he's saying in both speeches is that he feels like everyone close to him ends up suffering as a result of him being in their lives. in s2 it's a result of the big fight he had with el and he uses it to express to her why he gets angry and destructive when her safety is at risk and he tries to move forward and be better from then on. it makes perfect sense and it's genuinely moving because it's like....new information about hopper. its the first time he's able to admit to el and the viewers that he doesn't want to be so angry all the time and he cant help but feel that way. and then in s4 it's.....basically the same thing but this time the motivation behind it is so hazy? he feels guilty because he ended up in russia?? something that was entirely out of his control and, really, was a noble sacrifice that allowed the gate to close?? and the writers must've realized that wasn't enough so they added in that he feels like he personally caused his daughter's cancer from being exposed to agent orange??????? idk to me it felt like rehashing a lesson that hopper already learned. in s2 he realizes that el does need him and that together they make each other happier and safer, and then by s4 he's already forgotten all that and decided that actually he's a curse on everyone he knows even though he literally saved everyone as his last action in america. idk!!!!!! maybe this is nitpicky but i LOVE season two hopper like that is my dad and season 4 hopper is just some guy </3

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Similar Tastes”

An enemies to lovers classic. You and Harry are too similar for you to ever get along...maybe

Hi hi! This is for @majorharry’s 20k celebration writing !!! Hope you all enjoy, I always love to hear from you :)))

The prompts I used: “How about you get off my dick” and “Sorry, I didn’t know”

This gif bc Harry “oh god that’s TEQUILA” Styles is king

Fluff? Smut? But definitely angst? Idk how to describe it bahaha a little bit of everything

Word Count: 4.0k | Warnings: language (there are actually two slurs in this - they’re bisexual slurs and they’re said by the bad guy so just take that into consideration), mature content (not quite smut but y’know), alcohol consumption, girl kissing girl at one point

Pt. 2 is up!

-

Saturday night. It was finally time to go out with your group of friends and you couldn’t be happier. Well, you could, but what would make you that happy wasn’t possible. If one of the people in your friend group wasn’t there. That would make you the happiest.

Almost everyone has that one person in your friend group who you can’t stand. Like, at first you don’t really know them and then as you get to know them more you just can’t stand them.

For you that was Harry.

While neither of you would admit why you hated each other, it was obviously about how everyone would always compare the two of you. You had practically identical personalities, and had similar fashion taste. At first, everyone else thought you would end up together because it seemed like you were perfectly matched. But the first time someone said, “Oh, Harry, your jacket looks just like the one Y/N wore last week.” Both of you had seethed in complete dissatisfaction. 

Naturally, Harry took his jacket off early in that evening and you never wore yours again. You hated being compared to Harry, being told he had made a similar joke or said the same thing about something made you want to reevaluate your entire value system. Maybe it was because you both had such an individualistic mindset, but neither of you enjoyed being compared to anyone and that’s what made it all the worse when people chose to compare you to each other. It boiled down to both of you wanting to be the best at everything - the most unique, rather - that made you dislike the other so much.

So, tonight at the bar, as your group rattled in from the street, you stuck close to your pals at the front while Harry was chatting with someone near the back of the pack. Your eyes had met briefly when you’d seen each other’s outfits. Harry’s a half unbuttoned Gucci cream dress shirt, that was rolled to his elbows, tucked into high waisted navy trousers finished with cream boots and yours a navy bra top with a faux collar and a deep cut to show your cleavage paired with cream high waisted pleated pants and navy loafers. Not exactly the same, but if you had stood next to one another it would have looked planned. You rolled your eyes at him as he narrowed his towards you. You couldn’t wait to order a few drinks and let loose after a hard week at work.

As you all approached a booth, somehow the group shifted and Harry and you were suddenly side by side as everyone was getting in the booth. Then, you were sitting and Harry was right beside you. He tried to cover his groan of annoyance when he realized he’d have to be sitting next to you, once again regarding your outfit with disdain. Your only response was glaring at him. The friend who you had been talking to, Marie, placed her hand over your ring-clad one, that was now gripping the side of the table out of annoyance. “Play nice,” she said. You relaxed at her touch trying to refocus on the purpose of the night, fun.

Soon, a waitress made it to your table and smiled sweetly at all your bright faces. Harry and you were located to her left, and her eyes reached you last.

“Oh! You two are too cute! I love when couples coordinate their outfits!”

Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head and you gave a tight-lipped smile as you tried to keep yourself from having a blood vessel pop in your eye right then.

“We’re not” you began, Harry cut you off, “together, love.”

His expression changed as he smirked up at the waitress, trying to make it clear that he was very much single.

“Oh! My apologies...So what can I get everyone?”

As she began to take the orders, you shoved your elbow into Harry’s rib. You did it for two reasons, for him cutting you off when you were talking and for being so on top of you in the booth.

He turned to you, “The fuck was that for?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

As you’re about to go off on him about being rude, Marie taps your hand and you realize it's your turn to order.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off your angry tone, “Tequila on the rocks, please.”

The waitress nods and then turns to smile at Harry, he gives you side eyes of disdain, “What’s your most expensive tequila?”

Her smile grew, “We’ve got Don Julio Real and Gran Patron for top shelf.”

“Don Julio on the rocks, please.” He winked.

She nods, scribbling something on her notepad, “Oh! Would you like Don Julio as well?” she returns to you.

You shook your head, “No. Jose Cuervo works just fine,” and glared at Harry once more.

Of course he would ask for top shelf, you thought. Harry couldn't have gotten through saying the exact same order as you, especially after the waitress had already pointed out the similarity in your clothes.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Being in such close proximity to Harry made you incapable of leaving the bickering alone. Everyone else always ignored when the two of you really got into it, because it honestly wasn’t that interesting. Like an old married couple, though none of them would ever dare say it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N?”

You scoffed as he turned in his seat to look at you. “Oh, please, you just couldn’t handle ordering the same thing as me. You had to flex that you could order Don Julio!”

“You’re just upset because you can’t.”

“Come off it! I could, but I don’t feel the need to boost my ego by showing off to the waitress that I can afford the expensive stuff.” You laughed at his attempt at snubbing you about what you can and can’t afford.

His eyes darkened and flashed at you and you could see it even in the dim lighting off the bar. “I wasn’t trying to show off, it’s not my fault you don’t care to drink the good stuff.”

“Okay, Harry,” you say sarcastically, waving him off.

He huffed, annoyed that you were the only person he was sitting next to. He had to call across the table if he wanted to speak to anyone that wouldn’t involve you being completely in the way. As he was about to call out to Mitch who was directly across from him, the waitress returned with everyone’s drinks.

“Jose Cuervo on the rocks! And Don Julio on the rocks!” She beamed at the group after finishing handing them out.

Everyone thanked her and she disappeared. You and Harry simultaneously took sips of your drinks.

You wrinkled your nose, “This isn’t Jose Cuervo…”

Harry placed his drink on his coaster and swallowed, licking his lips he said, “I think mine is, tastes cheap.”

“You’re really an ass,” you say as you shove your misgiven drink to him and snatch his from the table instead.

Harry growing tired of your arguing already, “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes and took a larger sip of the correct drink.

You take a sip of your own drink and sigh again, “This isn’t even tequila, what the fuck?”

“Ah, no wonder it tasted like shit. What do you think it is?”

“Well, considering there’s only, like, a handful of clear hard liquors besides silver tequila, probably vodka, idiot,” you breathed the last word under your breath, still Harry stared at you with daggers in his eyes. You weren’t actually sure how many other liquors it could be, but you were so pissed off by the whole situation you just wanted to make him shut up.

“Well that’s a bummer, kid. Maybe next time, order a better tequila and she’ll get it right.”

You shoved him, not wanting to wait for the waitress to come back to fix her mistake, “How about you get off my dick and then I can go get something worth drinking?”

Harry huffed as he slowly moved his body up from his seat, yet he stayed so close to the opening of the booth you were practically chest to chest when you slipped out. Due to that, and maybe a little bit on purpose, you knocked your drink forward to get a small amount on him. Not enough for him to be drenched, but enough to bug him for the rest of the night.

“Oops?” you tilted your head and held a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you looked at his taken aback look. His prominent jaw had dropped as the cold liquid had pooled over his left breast pocket, some of his tattoos now much more visible. You quickly turned on your heel and bounced off to the bar. Harry grumbled and sat back down, Marie leaned over with a napkin, trying to dry him off a bit.

With a fresh drink in hand you weaved back to the table, all your friends were laughing together at something Harry had seemingly said. When you arrived everyone beamed up at you, far more jovial after a few sips of their drinks. Only Harry’s face was sour, but you chose to ignore it and smile at your friends, waiting for Harry to get up to let you into your seat that he had occupied in your absence. When he didn’t, your face began to fall from its smile.

“Are you going to get up?”

“No, just take that seat,” he waves his hand beside him, trying to go back to the conversation he was engaging in before you had arrived.

“But, you’re in my seat,” you pushed.

“You’re the one who decided to get up and leave it.”

“You cannot be serious, Harry.”

“As a heart attack,” he said flatly, and then turned his head to Sarah who was next to Marie.

You looked around the table for help, Mitch gave a slight sad smile like he felt bad, but everyone knew there was no changing Harry’s mind. You knew you didn’t have the strength to yank his large, muscled body out of the booth, so you resigned and took his old seat. There, you kicked Harry’s leg harshly and took a long sip of your alcohol, just wanting to get drunk enough to want to dance and then not be near Harry.

After a second round of drinks, this time the waitress getting your order right, you were feeling better. Harry and you were largely ignoring each other and laughing along with the rest of your friends to some story. Every so often his leg would open up and bump into yours and you’d hit back at it harder, his eyes sliding to your face for a moment and then looking away. He made you so hot with anger and the closeness of bodies in that bar already had the temperature way too high. You gulped at your drink, trying to cool down, but it only had the opposite effect, the alcohol mixing with your blood, heating up your insides, as well.

Then, once the third round of drinks were served, Marie suggested it was time to dance, commenting that some random song that was currently playing was ‘her favorite’. It wasn’t, but whenever she got drunk, every song was ‘her favorite’. However, you were all happy to oblige, feeling restless as the alcohol was buzzing in your systems.

Out on the dance floor, some of the couples in your friend group paired off to dance on each other while the rest of you spread out. You spotted a woman in the crowd wearing a sequin dress that looked absolutely gorgeous on her, her blonde hair reminding you of some rocker chick in the 70’s. While making your way towards her, Harry tried to get in front of you, obviously making his way to her as well.

Another thing Harry and you had in common, the people you typically went for - men and women. Shaking him off with a hand on his chest and a glare, you reached her first and she smiled at you as you complimented her outfit and began to dance with her. Harry resigned to staying with some of your other friend’s when he saw how the woman threw her head back at something you said to her. Soon, she was grinding herself against your front, your lips attached to her neck, hands on her hips.

Feeling particularly happy with yourself, your gaze flitted around the crowded dance floor. Eyes scanning those around you, you soon made eye contact with Harry, who actually wasn’t that far off. His eyes looked a more dull green in the light and he rolled them when he saw you looking up from your place against the beautiful woman. While he still looked on at your languid figures pressed together, you teased your tongue up her neck a bit, causing the woman to keen into your touch. As Harry was about to look away, shaking his head at your antics, he caught sight of a guy approaching you and the other woman.

He said something to the pair of you, but you couldn’t hear him. The woman had opened her eyes to look at the guy and you had removed your lips from her, shaking your head that you didn’t catch what he said.

He repeated himself, yelling this time, “Fauxbians out here trying to catch a real man! How ‘bout we make you total lugs!”

He was loud enough for your friends to hear, including Harry who had been watching the whole scene play out. He pushed through the crowd to get to your side, he might not like you, but he couldn’t stand someone who was homophobic, or biphobic, in this case. You pushed the woman off of you and to the side, she was clearly upset and you weren’t going to let what the guy said slide.

“What the fuck, man? You think it’s okay to say shit like that to people? What year are you living in, like for real?”

As you were about to start really ripping into him, you felt Harry’s presence beside you. You looked over and he looked angry, like really angry, not annoyed or exasperated as he usually did with you. Angry like he was about to grab this guy by the shirt and start pummeling him. Even with all the alcohol in your system, you knew that wouldn’t actually help the situation, even if you did want someone to wipe the smug look off this guy’s face, which had only grown worse since you’d started yelling at him. It was like this stranger was getting off on making these two women in front of him uncomfortable and upset.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Harry spat at the guy.

“Harry,” you turned your body towards him and put your hand on his chest, placing yourself between him and the rude guy, “I’m not letting you get into a fight over what he said. It’s not worth it.”

He had pushed himself almost against this guy, Harry easily hovering over him. Harry looked down at you and then back to the guy, who was chuckling to himself, stepping back from the scene.

He seethed, “You disgust me,” he looked at the man. “Just crawl back into whatever hole your sorry ass came out of.”

The guy just laughed and walked off. Harry looked down at you, his eyes softening instantly. You couldn’t exactly distinguish the look he gave you, you just knew it was something you’d never seen directed at you.

Your brow remained furrowed as you looked at him, then he said, “Let’s get some air.”

You looked around the room for your sequined dress woman, but she was nowhere to be found. So you let Harry take you by the hand out the side exit, to the bar’s alleyway.  

Outside, you immediately brought your hands to rub over your exposed arms, the tiny sleeves of your shirt not being enough to brave the brisk night air. The altercation had shaken you up quite a bit and immediately sobered you. Harry stepped closer to you out of instinct, seeing you were shivering, but having nothing to offer warmth except himself. The two of you leaned against the bar’s outer wall and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, voice slightly hoarse from yelling in the loud bar.

“Fine. You?”

Why was he being so nice, you were surprised he had stepped in at all, but now he was checking in on you past that, it was confusing.

“Of course. You didn’t even let me get a single swing in.”

You scrunched your face at his comment regarding violence. “Why did you even come over? I can handle myself,” you asked, suddenly feeling the normalcy of bickering settle between the two of you.

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His pectoral muscles slightly shifted and pushed around his cross pendant in the center of his chest.

“Because he was a dick,” he started, then sighed, “And because I can’t just let some homophobe say a bunch of slurs to my friend.”

Your eyes grew wide and shown in the street lamp, as they looked up into Harry’s green ones. He was slightly sweaty from the bar, but it was quickly drying and leaving a slight sparkle on his skin. His jaw was tensed, as he tried to maintain eye contact with you. You remained silent, unaware how to respond to his statement that he did, despite much evidence saying otherwise, care about you.

Harry decided to continue, “You might piss me off, like all the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for a random asshole to say that kind of shit to you.”

“I’m your friend?” you circled back to what he had said earlier. Your voice was small and also hoarse from yelling in the bar.

“Of course, Y/N, what the fuck?”

“I thought...I guess I never saw it that way.”

“Harsh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know competing all the time and being annoyed with each other was friendship.” You shifted closer to Harry, your words dripping in sarcasm. Even now, as the two of you checked in on each other and talked about your friendship, you managed to fight.

“That’s just because you’re constantly infuriating me and getting us into fights,” Harry smirked, tapping a finger on your cold nose.

“I think you’ve got it backwards, there, Har,” you winked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shrugged and pressed closer to you.

Neither of you were very clear on what your bodies were doing, slowly moving so that you had your back against the wall and Harry’s hips were pressed up against yours.

“It’s not my fault you’re always jealous of me,” you breathe, his face inches from yours.

Harry snorted a laugh out of his nose, his eyes slowly blinking and looking away from you, before staring directly at you. “Oh, please, now who has it backwards?” His right arm went up beside your head and his hand rested on the cold stone next to you. His breath, from his laughter and words, fanning over your face, made you close your eyes at the warmth.

You moved both of your hands up to his chest, and he looked down at the movement. One moved up to grip his shoulder and the other fiddled with the cross that had caught your attention when he had folded his arms.

After a beat, Harry said your name, barely above a whisper. Your head tilted up, looking up at him questioningly. You didn’t really understand the position the two of you had shifted yourselves into. “Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Kind of…” He ran a finger over your cheekbone.

Your eyes danced with mischief “Why?”

“Are you serious?” Harry asked in slight disbelief.

“As a heart attack,” you said gravely, throwing the words he had used earlier back at him. He sighed a slight laugh.

“Like I said, infuriating…”

Just as he was about to pull away, you reached up and connected your lips with his. Your hand cupped his strong jaw and brought him closer to you. His warm, wet lips pushed against yours with vigor. There was passion in the kiss. A constant push and pull for who got to be in control. You sucked on his lower lip, trying to get him to open up his mouth, but he declined.

He pressed you further onto the wall, while cradling your head to keep it from knocking against the concrete. His teeth nipped at your lip after a few more moments of fervent open mouth kisses without tongue. You resigned to not getting your way and let his tongue lick into you. Your tongue pressed against his as the two of you continued kissing. While his mouth was harsh, the rest of his touch was mostly soft. The hand that didn’t cradle your head was rubbing up and down your side, only venturing down to your bottom occasionally and squeezing quickly.

Finally, he pulled back, gasping slightly for air. He then rested his forehead against yours and you looked at him from beneath your lashes. One of your hands was now twisted in his curls, while the other was gripping his shirt, over the dried vodka spill from earlier. You smiled as you exhaled a big breath. Harry chuckled giddily.

“That was hot,” you said.

“Y’know, having similar tastes...might not be such a bad thing after all.”

“Knowing us we probably like all the same things…” you trailed off, blushing at the suggestion.

“Why don’t we find out sometime,” Harry winked before brushing his lips against yours once more.

Pecks weren’t possible for either of you though, both of you furiously pressing back together, hungry for more of the heat that came from you kissing.

“That’d be nice,” you whimpered against his lips.

“I think it’d be more than nice…” Harry brought his head down to suck on a part of your exposed cleavage, one of his legs pressed between yours, pushing slightly up into your heat. A strangled moan left your lips as you tried to stifle it. Harry chuckled, his face moved up to right beside your ear, “You’d probably love to have me take you right here, huh?”

His leg pressed up into you and your body automatically grinded down on the pressure. The alcohol and sexual grinding from earlier had gotten you horny and the making out with Harry had definitely heightened your desire.

“But we both know you can’t,” you gained your strength and pressed a little on his shoulders.

As much as you desired Harry right now and he seemed to desire you, as well, he was right. You two were extremely similar and would never actually have sex in a bar alleyway, as much as you might want to in the moment. You both laughed, releasing the sexual tension that was surrounding you.

“I know, but it’s fun to pretend we could...How about we go to my place and see what other fantasies we share?” Harry twisted a strand of your hair in his large hand.

“For once, I’m happy to be on the same page as you, Harry,” you grinned. He picked you up and spun you around, making you shriek in laughter, before heading back into the bar to gather your stuff.

You were quick to scurry out of the bar after telling your friends you were both leaving, tired from everything that had happened. Everyone simply nodded, but the minute you were far enough away they all snickered about the lipstick smeared on the corners of Harry’s lips and your terribly mused hair. Mitch even placed a twenty in the palm of Sarah’s open hand, shaking his head in defeat.

-

Tag list: @cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrxier @harrys-cherrry @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

[animeomegas]

Been thinking a lot about sasuke and his alpha going on a vacation by themselves and just doing very domestic things like washing his hair, maybe pairing his nails after a lot of begging bc yknow how he is, watching a movie and soft rubbing his tummy and he’s just so relaxed he falls asleep tucked into ur neck😔😩 Spain without the S, monarch 😩

Yesss, I love this idea so much, I got a little carried away haha. That’s why it took me so long to write this <3 Sasuke deserves to be spoiled as much as possible, canon did him dirty, but I am here to fix that!!!  I hope you enjoy ~~

Sasuke is almost a different person when he’s on holiday.

Being away from Konoha takes away so much stress from his shoulders, stress that he didn’t even know he had. He’s in a place where no one knows him, a place that’s never done anything to him, a place where nothing has to mean anything he doesn’t want it to. He’s free in a lot of ways.

He smiles more. He laughs more too. It’s such as big difference that I would say that trips out of Konoha are a pretty crucial part of taking care of Sasuke’s mental health.

He’s finds it easier to accept affection outside of Konoha, when he’s alone with his alpha. There’s no one there to judge him, or to pick him apart to use his weaknesses against him, he doesn’t feel like he’s constantly being watched in the way he often feels when at home. He has fewer nightmares too.

Sasuke would never leave Konoha permanently at this point, I don’t think, but honestly, his alpha is probably tempted just to wrap him up and run away together because of how much happier and healthier he is in small, unaffiliated towns or tourist countries.

You picked a cute, little rental cottage in the woods on the edge of a rural town in Tea Country.

You get there in the evening, throw down your luggage and decide for a quick bath and then bed, committing to activities tomorrow when you’re less tired from traveling.

You go to start running the bath while Sasuke familiarises himself with the room, but before you do, you pull him in for a cuddle, scenting him and nuzzling him, just so happy to be getting some alone time with him. And he does it back. Without thinking, without hesitation, without complaining. He makes a little comment about you trying to drown him in your scent but the little smile on his face says he’s only teasing. And as you try to pull away, he pulls your face into a kiss. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you can’t help but smile in return, breaking the kiss with a breathy laugh.

“I need to run the bath,” you whisper, breathless already.

“One more,” he demands coyly, pulling you back in.

When the bath is eventually run, you sit back and allow Sasuke to slip in front, his back against your chest. There are no words shared at first, but the silence isn’t awkward, it’s content, both of you simply lost in thought.

You offer to wash his hair for him, and he hands you the bottle with a “you’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

You laugh and tell him probably not.

He allows it with a sigh, but as soon as you start massaging the shampoo into his hair, the sighs change in tone. He pushes back into your ministrations and a couple of quiet purrs escape him, seeming louder than normal as the sound bounces off all the porcelain.

Before it’s time to wash it off, you use the foam to spike his hair up, laughing as he tries to elbow you away. He ends up turning around and grabbing you by the wrists, but now that you can see him face on, the laughter only gets stronger. His hair looks ridiculous.

Sasuke huffs and flattens it down before grabbing your face for a ‘shut up’ kiss, a personal favourite of his. You both get a little carried away with kissing in the tepid water, just basking in each other’s company until there’s a ‘shampoo in eye’ mishap that forces you apart.

The water is cold by the time you both get out.

 You both slip into pyjamas but before bed, you have one final request.

“Can I paint your nails, Sasuke? I brought some new nail varnish and everything!”

“Absolutely not. And why on earth do you have nail varnish?”

“I brought it specially for you~”  you whined, holding the container up to show him the deep purple colour.

Sasuke hit you with an unimpressed stare.

“That’s too bad, you should learn to make purchases more carefully next time.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“…Fine, but only my toenails.”

It’s relaxing in a way, having his nails painted, not that he’s going to say that out loud. It’s repetitive and quiet and… kind of pleasant. He catches himself more than a few times smiling at your concentrated face as well, amused that your taking this so seriously.

“There,” you interrupt his inner monologue. “The purple’s on! Doesn’t it look nice?”

Sasuke makes a non-committal ‘hnn’ noise in response, wiggling his toes a little.

“So, I just have to wait for this to dry then I can go to sleep right?”

“Nope! I still need to add the topcoat, I got a glitter one just for you!”

“If you put glitter on my toenails, I’m divorcing you.”

…

(The next morning a vendor at the market comments on how much she likes Sasuke’s glittery, purple nails.)

  “I’m exhausted,” you mutter into Sasuke’s neck, leaving a few kisses for good measure.

“It’s entirely your fault that it took this long to get to bed, so I have no sympathy,” he replies from his position as little spoon.

You huff a little but settle down, tightening your arms around his just a little for good measure.

 This was one of the most relaxed states you had ever seen Sasuke in. He was warm and comfortable, he felt safe and sleepy. He was even letting out little content noises as you rubbed a hand in circles over his stomach, pushing up his pyjama shirt ever so slightly. His skin was smooth and warm under you hand.

You could feel yourself succumbing to sleep, and so you placed a few kisses on his mating mark as a way to say goodnight and allowed your eyes to close.

And in the morning, you awoke, not to an empty bed as you so often did at home, but with your arms still wrapped around a sleeping Sasuke, completely relaxed and still dead to the world.