#i can understand it perfectly fine still!!

[buck-star]

Put your hands in mine

He can’t breathe. His lungs burn and the water above his head gets darker and darker. Theres no more light. Until there is again.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.263 Words

Warnings/Tags: Anxiety, hurt/comfort, crowds, established relationship, fluff

Authors Note: Part of the works for Mai — month of mental health awareness! You’re not alone and I’m proud of you! Divider made by me. Shout out to my favorite person @thevillainswhore for brainstorming, the aesthetic and for all the love and proofreading! I adore you, te iubesc.❤️

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Put your hands in mine.

And I will pull you out of the darkest waters.”

Loud noises. Crowded places.

Bucky hates it, and yet, he still tries to live his life as best as he can. He keeps trying to get out of your shared apartment more often, to be around people for longer periods of time. But somehow, it only makes him want to curl in on himself, with you wrapped in his arms in the safety of your apartment.

He’s not ready for the world just yet. He’s not ready for the business, the noises of the actions. He had them long enough — for years and years. And now, finally settled down with the woman he loves, he wants to keep the peace a while longer before he’s ready to face the loud world outside.

But somehow, sometimes he still manages to interact with the outside — as long as you’re by his side he knows he can do more than he believes.

Bucky’s fingers cling to the shopping cart he’s currently pushing through the aisle of the grocery store. His ocean blue eyes dart from one side of the aisle to the other and back to the cart as he takes in the different products.

Lots of jam, way more than he used to know back in the days. Bread — delicious and softer than he knows, and so many variants — you always buy different ones. One better than the other. But his favorite one is still the brown bread with the star on top. It reminds him of his childhood, and it tastes almost the same as remembers.

Maybe if he just keeps his mind busy enough he can try and mute the noises around him. If he just —

“Buck?” You ask softly, your warm fingers circling the back of his hand and his white knuckles. Your voice is soft and soothing, just like the smile that’s spreading on your lips.

You’re smaller than Bucky, but you’re standing perfectly in front of him to bring his attention to you. You’re blocking the people around you from running into your boyfriend, making it easier for him to focus on you — and only you.

“Do you want to get out of here already?” You offer but your boyfriend shakes his head and turns his head to interlace your fingers with his thicker ones.

You’re always so soft with him, sweet and loving. Bucky could melt with you around. The understanding and support you offer him causes his heart to clench every now and then, the insecurities growing stronger. How does someone dark like him, deserve someone so sweet like you?

Never pushing him, never judging him. Bucky wonders what he did to make you fall in love with him. But no matter what it was, he’s glad he was able to get your interest, to get the love you show him.

Bucky takes a shaky breath. You offered him to go shopping by yourself, but he didn’t want you to do it alone — he wanted to come with you. And even though he regrets his decision slightly, he’s grateful to have you around.

“N-no,” he says, forcing a smile on his plump lips. You sigh but nod, knowing that Bucky’s feeling overwhelmed already. But you also don’t want to act like he’s a kid who doesn’t know his own limits well enough to decide himself.

Bucky can decide when his limits are reached. And as much as he tries to push them every now and then, you know he would never lie, would it really be too much for him.

His eyes are slightly narrowed and he tightens his grip around your hand. “I-it’s fine, babydoll. A bit loud and crowded but not too much.”

You hum softly, followed by a soft giggle. You lean closer to him, standing in your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips before you wrap one of your arms around his waist. The other still interlaced with his thick fingers to sooth him and keep him calm.

“You’re doing good, Buck. I’m proud of you and I’m glad you decided to come here with me,” you mumble while you push him with you through the aisle. Bucky sighs softly, relaxing with your arm around him. He knows you will catch him when he feels like he’s going to fall and drown in his fear again.

When you finally reach the section with fruits and vegetables, you look for a quiet corner, pushing the cart and Bucky there to keep him away from all the noises and business of the other people.

A soft, warm smile spreads on your lips as he leans down to kiss you softly. Bucky’s blue orbs light up slightly when he can focus on you and the music of the store but nothing else.

It’s quiet. He can watch everyone and it’s less crowded. Perfect for him to wait for you to get a few fruits and vegetables.

You move through the aisles to take some apples and bananas before you move further to the vegetables. It’s a bit crowded but when you look up to Bucky you see him still softly smiling at you. There’s not many people around him, only an elderly lady and a mother with her kid.

So you look back to the vegetables and get some peppers and cucumbers too. You can still feel his intense gaze on you, taking in every detail.

Bucky’s tapping his fingers against the cart, keeping his focus on the music and on you so he won’t be too overwhelmed, until —

“Ow! I’m sorry, sir,” a lady apologizes as she pushes her cart with force into Bucky’s side. The kid on her arm is crying loudly, and the moment they notice their mother's attention on someone else — and not on the gummy bears they want — they start screaming.

The pain in Bucky’s hips is nothing compared to the noises that crash down on him like a heavy weight. The music from the loudspeakers is suddenly way louder. The mother talking to her child. The child that’s still crying and screaming. And suddenly he’s aware of every noise around him.

Bucky can hear every little noise in the whole shop. The people around him. The people on the other side of the shop. Even the registers and the cooling systems of the fridges.

His breath hitches, his chest tightens as he wraps his fingers tightly around the cart. His blue eyes are widened as the noises become even louder. Bucky can hear his heartbeat so loud and clear like every other noise in the shop. And there is no way for him to mute all these noises.

“B-ba…by-do—“ Bucky chokes, his hands shooting to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. He tries to pull on it, to rip it off his body but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens and becomes heavier until he feels like he can’t breathe anymore. “P-ple—“

And there it is again — the feeling of the dark water around him. Only a small amount of sun is shining through the darkness but it’s fading slowly. And he’s sinking, further and further while he feels like he’s drowning.

Bucky never thought it would be possible for him — or for anyone — to feel like they could drown without physically being in a body of water. And yet, he feels as if he's sinking into the depth of the ocean, the water surrounding him everywhere and there’s no place he could grab a hold on.

The water is hugging him like an old friend, but it isn’t an old friend. It never was and it never is — it never will be. It’s only his darkest enemy, his fear of losing control, of losing himself.

He gasps loudly, his eyes scanning the people around him to find you but everything is blurred. Everyone looks so similar, the voices mix with the others. He just can’t make out where you are, he can’t hear your voice, he can’t see your face, your worried expression or maybe your soft smile — he can’t tell because everyone looks just like the others in the shop.

“B-babydo-ol-l…” he whispers, tugging harshly at the collar of his shirt. A soft whimper leaves his plump lips as he feels his lungs burning. The darkness of his thoughts became worse. Even the corners of his view turn a few shades darker, supporting the feeling to sink further in the ocean.

The sun — actually the light of the shop — disappears with every second. The weight that’s pulling him down becomes heavier and heavier, his breathing unsteady and frantic as he tries to grab for anything so he won’t drown.

“Buck,” your soft voice is audible. It’s so close and yet so far. He can’t reach for you, but he wants to — he needs to. “Bucky, hey, baby. You’re safe, try to take a deep breath for me, please.”

He can feel your warm hand reaching for his. Your fingers curl around Bucky’s thicker ones as you pull his clenched fingers off his shirt. He doesn’t want to let go of his only grounding source but he also doesn’t stop you — deep down he knows you’re his real grounding, his anchor.

“Loud noises are overwhelming, aren’t they? But it’s okay. I’m here, I've got you. Just try and focus on my voice, I know it’s hard but you need to listen to me otherwise we can’t get out of here,” you say. Your voice is still so soft and soothing, warming his chest as he feels his eyes moving toward yours.

Bucky’s mouth opens before he closes it again. He remains silent but you can see his eyes flickering from yours to your fingers before they settle back on yours.

He takes in the soft smile that’s tugging at your lips as you stand in front of him — causing his heart to flutter slightly. Your fingers interlace with his as you rub soothing circles over the back of his hands. Bucky notices your lips moving, trying to calm him down and even though the noises are still louder than your voice, he can make out some of the words you’re saying.

“I know you listen to me, Buck. Maybe not completely but I know you try. And I’m proud of you, you’re doing so good, baby,” you assure him, hoping it will help him to calm down.

While dating Bucky you learned how to handle his anxiety and his panic attacks. Not just because of therapy but also because of all the talks you have after such a situation — allowing Bucky to look back and help you both to understand what you can do to either help or avoid these situations.

From finding out what overwhelmed him to what he felt until he can tell you what he might have needed, you talk about every detail Bucky wants to share with you. So, with his help of what he could have needed in such a moment you can try different things out until you both are happy with the result.

“You have to stay calm. I’m not gonna hurt you, but I need to cover your ears. It might be a bit of pressure but then the noises will be quieter,” you explain before you bring his hands to your hips, placing them there for him to ground himself before you reach up to cover his ears softly.

Bucky flinches, his fingers digging almost painfully into your hips as he stares at you with widened, fear filled eyes. Your thumbs stroke softly along his cheeks, still covering his ears as you feel him relaxing softly into your embrace.

Bucky’s breath slows down, the noises are quieter. Once again — like so many times before — your hand reached out for him when he was drowning. It’s your hands that take a tight hold on him, making sure he can’t drown in the darkness.

You move your hands down his cheeks, wiping away a few streaks of tears before you settle your hands around his neck.

“I-I’m sorry…” he mumbles, leaning his head against yours. Bucky takes a shaky breath, way more steady than before but still on edge with his emotions. “I shouldn’t have gone shopping with you… it’s only… I’m only in your way.”

“You will never be in my way. I’m glad you came to the shop with me,” you mutter, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. “I don’t like you suffering like that, Buck. But you went out with me, you should be proud.”

“Are you proud?”

“Of you?”

Bucky nods softly. His blue eyes flickering to yours, uncertainty written all over his face. How can he possibly be proud of himself when he just had a panic attack where he needed your help to calm down?

“More than anything,” you say with such a softness and honesty that Bucky feels like he’s melting in your arms. He nods, sighing softly. “I’m really proud of you, Buck. You’re so much stronger than you think. You went to hell and back, and yet, you’re still so lovely and caring about the people you love.”

Bucky smiles softly, a soft pink creeping onto his cheeks as he tries to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t say that…”

“Because you know it’s true?”

“No… because it makes me blush,” he whines playfully. Bucky leans back a bit, his ocean blue orbs flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes. Within another second his warm, plump lips press against yours, pouring all his love and adoration into the kiss.

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[biggianteggplant]

THE DRUNK SERIES pt.2

When they're drunk

OIKAWA TOORU

The door swings open and there stands Iwaizumi, disheveled, holding up a very limp and very dramatic Oikawa by the back of his stupid expensive jacket like a soaked cat.

“I brought your idiot home,” Iwa grumbles.

“EXCUSE YOU—” Oikawa’s head lolls to the side. “I am a celestial being, iwa. A gift. A sex symbol. A—OW, my elbow!”

He nearly faceplants but you catch him, barely. He melts in your arms like butter on a skillet.

“Baby,” he whines into your neck, slurring like a Shakespearean drunk. “Tell Iwa-chan I’m beautiful or I’ll cry on your couch.”

You blink. “...Oikawa, are you drunk?”

“EXCUSE YOU AGAIN—how dare you use my name like it’s not wrapped in gold leaf and whispered by angels—”

“He had three margaritas and started screaming at the bartender for not ‘understanding his star chart,’” Iwa deadpans.

Oikawa points weakly at him. “YOU said I was a Scorpio rising with emotional constipation. You offended my moon,Iwa-chan.”

“Your moon can suck it,” Iwa mutters.

You try not to laugh, holding Oikawa steady as he continues to dramatically cling to your waist like a vine. “You smell like tequila and bad choices,” you whisper.

“I smell like pain, love, and longing,” he corrects, then immediately gropes around your pockets. “Where’s your chapstick? I’m chapped. Kiss me. Hydrate me.”

You glance at Iwaizumi, who has already turned around. “I’m out. Good luck. He cried to a vending machine.”

“I WANTED HOT COCOA AND IT GAVE ME DIET WATER—”

The door slams behind Iwa.

Oikawa sighs heavily, flopping on your couch with one arm flung dramatically over his eyes.

“Babe…” he mumbles. “Don’t leave me for someone less pretty. They won’t know your star sign or what you look like under fluorescent lighting.”

You sigh. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“I know.” He rolls to look at you, lips puckered. “Mwah?”

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

It was past midnight when your phone buzzed.

Bokuto:

He drank. Help.

Your heart dropped — not in panic, but in mild, amused surprise. Because Sakusa Kiyoomi? The man who sanitizes his keys twice? The man who once said, “Drinking is fine until you start touching people”? That Sakusa Kiyoomi?

Apparently, he drank.

When you open your door, he’s there. Standing perfectly still, hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie, mask halfway off, hair a little messy — looking like a melancholic statue from a museum that just lost its way home.

“Kiyoomi?” you ask, blinking.

He lifts his eyes to yours.

“Hi.”

Just that. Quiet. Soft. As if he’s not outside your door at 12:34 AM, tipsy and unrecognizable.

“…Hi, baby,” you say gently. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer. Just walks in slowly, toeing off his shoes like muscle memory, before making a beeline for your couch and sitting stiffly, hands folded in his lap like he’s about to take an oral exam.

You walk over, crouch in front of him. “Kiyoomi?”

He finally looks at you — eyes a little glassy, flushed across the nose. “You look nice.”

You raise a brow, surprised. “Oh? Thank you.”

“Too nice.” His voice is quiet. “Distracting.”

Your lips twitch. “Are you drunk?”

He doesn’t answer — just holds out his pinky.

You blink. “What’s that?”

“Promise me you won’t go anywhere.”

You take his pinky and smile. “I promise.”

Then—like a switch flips—he leans forward, forehead pressing against yours. Not a kiss. Not even a whisper. Just that quiet, grounding contact. As if you’re gravity. As if he might drift away if he doesn’t anchor himself to you somehow.

“Omi,” you whisper, heart squeezing. “You’re so warm.”

“I like you too much,” he murmurs. “That’s dangerous.”

You giggle softly. “I like you too much too.”

He sighs dramatically. “You’re patient. And soft. And you let me breathe even when I’m difficult.”

“You’re not difficult.”

“I sanitized my hands before holding yours the first time.”

“That’s not difficult, that’s you.”

He slowly, shyly reaches out to hold your hand again — with both of his. Cradling it like it’s fragile. Like it’s holy.

Then he leans his head on your shoulder.

“Can I stay here for a bit?” he asks, voice barely audible.

You don’t say anything.

You just wrap your arms around him, letting his quiet warmth sink into yours — him melting in that Sakusa way, barely perceptible unless you're paying attention.

And you always are.

Because Kiyoomi drunk isn’t loud. He doesn’t slur, or stumble, or spill secrets in dramatic fashion.

He just lets himself feel a little louder.

And tonight, all he feels is you.

TAKETORA YAMAMOTO

“CHEERS TO LOVE!”

The entire bar winces. Someone shouts “SHUT UP!” but Yamamoto only throws back his beer with the grace of a man who thinks he’s being filmed for a cologne commercial.

He slams the glass down. “Tch. She thinks she can just win the argument by being cute? I’ll show her a piece of my MIND—!”

Yaku deadpans. “Bro. You cried about a dog in a diaper five minutes ago.”

“THAT DOG WAS BRAVE,” Yamamoto yells, then hiccups.

He pulls out his phone. Opens your contact. Thumb hovers… but instead of texting, he sighs dramatically and smacks the phone face down on the table. “No. I’m strong. I’m cool. I’m the sexiest man alive. I don’t need her.”

He lasts ten minutes.

The keys jingle at the door like he’s trying to fight it open, but then you hear his voice.

“Hey.” Knock, knock. “Hey, open up. Your very hot boyfriend is here and I’m gonna kiss your forehead so hard it’ll echo through time.”

You open the door with a raised brow.

He stumbles in with that drunk swagger—shirt half untucked, eyes half-lidded, grin too wide. “Hey.” He points at you like it’s a game show. “You got a boyfriend?”

You cross your arms. “Mm, maybe.”

“Well, I bet your boyfriend is, like, super ugly.”

You stare. “You are the boyfriend.”

He gasps. “DAMN. Plot twist.”

You try not to laugh. “I thought you were mad at me?”

He immediately wilts, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I was. But then my heart got homesick.”

You roll your eyes but hug him anyway, running your fingers through his hair as he starts swaying like you're both in a slow dance.

“You smell like beer and regret.”

“I smell like passion and loyalty,” he mumbles. “Don’t downplay it.”

You snort. “You’re impossible.”

He looks up, pouty. “I was gonna yell at you. I had speeches and hand gestures planned. But then I missed you too much and forgot why I was mad.”

You soften a little. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he says, nose scrunching adorably. “But I’m your idiot.”

And just like that, you let him lead your half-drunken waltz into the kitchen, humming something off-key about love while you think — as always — damn it, I love this idiot.

MIYA OSAMU

You find him on the couch, legs stretched out, a half-finished drink on the table, and the faintest blush on his cheeks. He’s swaying a little to the music playing in the background — something low and jazzy that you didn’t even realize he queued.

“You good there, love?” you ask, leaning on the doorframe.

Osamu tilts his head to look at you, eyes hazy but steady, smile warm and lazy. “Mmm... 'course. Just thinkin’.”

“Uh-oh,” you tease. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckles softly, patting the spot next to him. “C’mere, wife.”

You join him, letting him tuck you into his side, his arm wrapping around you like second nature.

There’s a long pause before he says it — quiet, smooth, like a passing thought. “Y’know I think about marryin’ you like... all the time, right?”

You blink. “Samu. We’re already married.”

He shrugs, totally unfazed. “Yeah, but I mean like… doin’ it again. Renewin’ vows or some cheesy crap. Just so I can keep tellin’ the world you’re mine.”

You look up at him. He’s got that soft, half-lidded look, like he’s floating but grounded by your presence.

“You’re really drunk, huh?”

He hums. “Nah. Just honest.”

You kiss his cheek, and he turns to catch your lips, slow and sweet. When he pulls back, he sighs happily, hand finding yours and squeezing it.

“You still gonna marry me tomorrow?” he mumbles against your temple.

You laugh into his shoulder. “Every day, Samu. I already do.”

He grins, eyes fluttering closed.

“Good,” he whispers. “’Cause I already picked out the snacks for the second wedding.”

KITA SHINSUKE

Kita looked composed as ever when Aran dropped him off — posture straight, eyes clear, jacket not even wrinkled. You almost didn’t believe Aran when he said, “He’s drunk. Good luck.”

And then…

“Atsumu gave him one glass of plum wine,” Aran added, clearly tired. “That’s all it took.”

You lean past him and peek inside the car. Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna are cackling in the backseat like gremlins waving. “What did you do to my Shiba Inu?” you ask.

“Nothing!” Atsumu protests, clutching his stomach. “We just–we just gave him the good stuff! He folded twenty napkins into swans and started blessing everyone like he’s the Pope!”

“He tried to water my shoes,” Suna deadpans. “Said they looked thirsty.”

Before you can reply, Kita gently taps your shoulder from behind. “Y/N,” he says calmly, holding out a water bottle with both hands, “You need to hydrate. You looked flushed earlier.”

Your brows shoot up. “Babe, I saw you three hours ago.”

“I never take chances,” he says with all the seriousness of a man about to launch a rocket. Then he pats your head — so soft, so reverent — before pulling a small paper heart from his pocket and placing it in your palm.

You burst out giggling. “Shinsuke… is this a napkin?”

“Origami,” he replies, a bit proudly. “Love heart.”

You’re about to swoon when he steps aside and gestures toward the house like a gentleman. “After you, my beloved.”

From the car, Atsumu shouts, “He called me a good boy earlier and gave me a head pat. I think I ascended.”

“Me too,” Osamu mutters, wiping a tear.

You lead Kita in, biting your lip to keep from smiling too hard. He sits on the couch, pulls out another napkin, and begins folding diligently.

“What are you doing now?”

“Swans,” he says.

“Why?”

“For our wedding.”

“…We’re not engaged.”

He pauses. Looks up. “Not yet.”

You stare.

“Too early?” he asks, tilting his head like an actual Shiba Inu. “Sorry. I’m drunk. But I meant it.”

You break into a flustered, giggly mess while outside, Atsumu screams, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT YET?!”

When you're both drunk

OIKAWA TOORU

You're not sure how the two of you made it home.

All you know is that Oikawa had your hand in his, glitter on his collar, and a terrible rendition of an 80s song echoing between you. You were both too drunk to remember the lyrics but too happy to care.

He trips over the welcome mat and catches himself dramatically against the doorframe, tossing his hair like he’s on stage. “Y/N. Did you see that?” he pants. “That was athleticism.”

You toss your heels to the side, makeup smudged and glitter in your lashes. “That was gravity kicking your ass.”

Oikawa squints at you. “You’re trying to start something, aren’t you?”

“Kitchen,” you declare. “Glitter at dawn.”

But you’re both laughing too hard to fight. Somehow you end up dancing in the kitchen in your socks to the quiet thump of ABBA playing from your speaker. The lights are too bright. Your steps are too clumsy. There’s glitter everywhere.

You're twirling like idiots, your laughter mixing with his, and when he spins you, he almost dips you like a ballroom pro—only to stumble and drag you down with him.

You land in a mess of limbs and sparkle on the cold tile.

“I blame your cheekbones,” you mumble into his chest.

“I blame your existence,” he grins. “You make me insane. Like actually.”

You lift your head. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“You have no right to be that pretty.”

He smirks, gaze lingering a little too long—lips parted, flushed, messy hair and all. There’s a beat where he just looks at you, longer than usual.

Then, slowly, he gets up on his knees, shifts behind you, and slips his arms around your waist from behind.

You feel his nose brush your jaw as he murmurs, “You always get clingy when you’re tipsy.”

“...says you,” you whisper back, smiling.

“Mmhm,” he hums.

Then you feel it—his hands sneaking up your torso under your shirt, one cupping your boob, squeezing it lazily.

You squeak, head tipping back onto his shoulder. “Tooru!”

“I’m drunk,” he mumbles, smirking against your neck. “And in love. Dangerous combo.”

His palm presses soft but deliberate, fingers toying. “Y’know,” he says, almost casual, “this is my favorite pillow.”

“Pervert.”

“Romantic,” he corrects. “Very loving. Appreciative.”

You roll your eyes and try to lean forward, but he just holds you tighter, still gently groping, like this is his natural state of affection now. “You love me.”

You sigh. “I do.”

“Say it again.”

You turn your head slightly, catching his eyes from the side. “I love you.”

He kisses your shoulder.

Then, muffled in your skin, “If I remember this tomorrow, I’m proposing. Fair warning.”

You laugh softly. “Better find a ring then.”

He kisses your cheek this time, hands still very much where they are, and whispers:

“Hope I do. So I can touch you like this for the rest of my life.”

And somehow, with glitter on your faces, laughter in your chest, and his hand still cupping your boob, the two of you fall asleep right there on the kitchen floor—warm, drunk, and way too in love.

SUNA RINTARO

You're both on the floor, heads leaning against the couch, cheeks flushed and phones in hand. The party’s over—or maybe it just moved to your living room. Either way, it’s just the two of you now. You and Suna. Tipsy. Beautiful. Annoying.

There's a cat filter on your face, his face has the puppy one with those giant sparkly eyes, and you're laughing too hard.

“Do the puppy face again,” you giggle, nudging his arm.

Suna shrugs like it’s nothing, then lifts his phone and does it again—expression flat, eyes all cartoon sparkles and pink cheeks. He side-eyes you and smirks, “You’re so easy to entertain.”

“And you’re so ugly it’s entertaining.”

“Wow.” He scrolls to another filter that gives him big lips and lashes. “Bet your boyfriend’s real hot, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “Bet he’s real lame.”

“Bet he’s super whipped.”

You lean closer, close enough to feel his breath. “Bet he’s gonna kiss me in five seconds.”

Suna quirks a brow. “Bet he’s gonna beat that record.”

And he does.

He kisses you once. Then again. Then slower. Then with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips because now you’re laughing against his mouth and whispering, “You’re the worst.”

He presses his forehead to yours, voice lazy and low. “Mm. You love it.”

At some point, he grabs his phone again and without even glancing, starts recording. You’re mid-sentence when he pulls you closer and plants a kiss right on your cheek, then makes a loud exaggerated mwahhh! sound.

You burst out laughing, catch on instantly, and start matching it. The two of you are now recording a video just making kissy noises at each other with chaotic energy and blurry lighting.

“Mwah!”

“MwAH!”

“MuahhhHHH~”

“Wait do it slower—Mmmwahhhh—”

“NO YOU SOUND LIKE A MOTORCYCLE—”

“MWAHRRRRRR—”

The recording ends in a pile of laughter and limbs.

Thirty seconds later, Suna sends the video to Atsumu. No caption. No context.

You blink at him. “He’s gonna lose his mind.”

“That’s the point,” Suna says simply, lying back down beside you with a smirk. He glances sideways. “Also, you’re cute when you’re drunk. Still pretty annoying though.”

“Back at you.”

You both fall asleep on the floor like that—filter apps still open, faces sore from grinning, with a 45-second masterpiece living forever in Atsumu’s camera roll.

KENMA KOZUME

You’re straddling Kenma’s lap, giggling into his neck while he slouches into your shared blanket nest on the floor. There are open chip bags, half-finished drinks, and two controllers somewhere under the pillows, but neither of you cares anymore.

He’s flushed. Like flushed flushed. Soft golden strands in his face, cheeks pink, pupils a little glassy. You’re tipsy and cuddly, draped over him like he’s a plush toy.

“Kenmaaa,” you murmur, dramatic and dreamy. “Do you think if we had a cat, it’d play video games with us?”

Kenma doesn’t answer right away.

He just stares at your chest.

Then he slowly—slowly—raises a hand and pokes your boob.

You blink. “Did you just—”

“…For science,” he mumbles.

Your jaw drops in mock offense. “Kozume Kenma!”

He’s still red. Still sleepy. “They bounce when you laugh. I had to know if it was real.”

You start laughing—hard. He blinks up at you innocently.

“Was it worth it?” you ask, wiping your eyes.

He nods, totally serious. “Yeah.”

You flop down next to him, still giggling, and he rolls with you, arms wrapping around your waist. A second later, you feel him nuzzle into your chest and mumble something that makes your heart combust:

“You’re the only person I’d share my saved files with.”

You freeze. “That’s the nerdiest love confession I’ve ever heard.”

He shrugs into you. “You liked it.”

Spoiler: You did.

Bonus: He falls asleep mid-kiss, forehead pressed to your collarbone, one hand still cupping your boob like a little pillow. Controller forgotten. Dignity? Gone. Love? Real.

When you're drunk

SHIRABU KENJIRO

Shirabu hates when you drink.

Not in the overprotective, suffocating kind of way. But in that quiet, tense way—where his jaw tightens and he won’t say anything until you’re both alone. Because he knows. He’s seen too much in med school—what alcohol does to the liver, the brain, the heart.

But that’s not the real reason.

It’s because you only drink when you’re hurt. When something’s broken inside you. And tonight… it was the two of you.

You had a fight. One of those ones where you both said things you didn’t mean, but the words still cut. And instead of talking it out, you left.

He waited. Called. Texted. Waited again.

Until hours later, the door creaked open and there you were—eyes red, hair messy, the faintest smell of sweet liquor on your breath, and glitter on your cheeks from god knows where.

“Y/N?” he said, standing quickly.

You didn’t answer at first. Just stood in the doorway, lip trembling, clutching your phone like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Then you whimpered, in a voice so small it cracked:

“I’m sorry…”

He was already taking a step toward you when you suddenly stumbled over and climbed into his lap on the couch, your knees bracketing his thighs, arms going around his neck like second nature.

And Shirabu… short-circuited.

“Wha—babe—!” he blurted, going stiff under you, ears turning a very obvious pink. He didn’t even know where to put his hands at first—awkwardly hovering near your waist like you were a malfunctioning defibrillator.

You tucked your face into his neck and let out a wobbly, hiccupy breath.

“I said so many dumb things,” you babbled, “I didn’t mean to leave. I just—I just got overwhelmed and the bar was there and I didn’t even wanna drink but then someone said tequila and—hic!—and I thought of you and I missed you and now I feel stupid and—sniff!—I’m just really really sorry…”

Your voice cracked again, tears welling in your eyes, and Kenjirō finally exhaled—his hands finding your back and holding you gently. Protective. Careful. Like he was afraid you’d shatter if he squeezed too hard.

“I love you so much and I’m not good at being mad at you and you’re not even mad at me and that makes it worse!” you sniffled, voice rising.

He blinked, eyes wide, heart very much Not Okay™ from the way you were wiggling in his lap mid-breakdown.

“Y/N,” he said, voice uneven but gentle, “I’m not mad. I was just worried. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry I’m so dumb.”

“You’re not dumb.”

“I’m like a raccoon with feelings,” you whimpered, snuggling into his hoodie. “I dug through the emotional trash tonight.”

A stunned silence.

And then… he laughed. Short, surprised, but warm.

“You are absolutely a raccoon,” he murmured, resting his forehead lightly against yours. “A very soft, clingy one. But you’re my raccoon.”

You looked up at him, eyes wet and glistening. “Still?”

He swallowed. You looked like a teary-eyed angel sitting on him. Still? Like it was ever a question.

“Always,” he said, voice low.

You sighed, arms tightening around his neck, letting your full weight slump against him as if you belonged there. And honestly? You did.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, already sleep-heavy and clingy.

He held you like you were made of something sacred, tucking your head under his chin as his blush finally faded, replaced by a gentle calm.

“Shhh. You’re home now, baby. You’re safe. I got you.”

KYOTANI KENTARO

—Kyōtani wasn’t ready for this version of you

The door opens with a thud. Not a gentle, “I’m home” kind of thud. No. This is a “girl’s night just ended and I’m wearing heels I regret” kind of thud.

Kyōtani lifts his head from the couch, blinking groggily. It’s past midnight. He was half-asleep watching some documentary about deep-sea fish with human teeth.

Then—

“BABYYYY~”

There you are. Leaning against the doorway like it’s holding you up. Face flushed, eyes glassy, glitter on your collarbones. You look devastatingly hot. Lip gloss smudged, hair wild, heels in your hand, and your voice... loud.

Kyōtani’s brain goes blank for a second.

Because you? The usually quiet, elegant, soft-spoken girlfriend who whispers “excuse me” when brushing past people in the kitchen?

You're wobbling in on bare feet and grinning like you're on a mission.

“You… look,” you slur, pointing vaguely in his direction. “So hot. Like, dangerous. You’re like… a sexy Pokémon evolution.”

“…What?”

You're already dropping your heels on the floor, marching straight over and climbing into his lap before he can say anything else.

Kyōtani’s eyes go wide.

“Woah—woah, baby—” His hands hover like he’s not sure where he’s allowed to touch. You're straddling him now, hands in his hair, giggling as you press your lips to his neck.

“You smell sooo good,” you murmur, completely unbothered by how flustered he is. “Like… you smell like boyfriend. You’re so warm. I wanna kiss you forever.”

“Babe—” he grabs your waist gently, trying to sit you back, but you’re already trailing kisses up his jaw, tipsy and clingy and so not your usual self. “Y/N, wait—”

You pull back, eyes glassy and lips swollen, pouting. “You don’t wanna kiss me? Is it the tequila breath? Be honest. I chewed gum.”

“No—no, baby, it’s not that,” he groans, gripping the edge of the couch like it might save him. “I want to. Trust me, I really want to.”

You squint at him. “Then why are we talking?”

He looks up at the ceiling like it might answer for him. “Because you’re drunk,” he mutters.

“…So?” you mumble, leaning back in with a grin. “You can be drunk in love too. I read that in a lyric.”

He lets out a strangled laugh, and you kiss him again—messy and eager. He kisses back for a second (maybe two, maybe three), until he suddenly breaks it off and grabs your face gently with both hands, cheeks flushed, breathing hard.

“Okay—no.” he says firmly, “We’re not doing this right now.”

You blink. “…Why?”

“Because you’re drunk,” he says again, a little more desperate this time, “and you’re going to wake up tomorrow with a hangover and remember you tried to seduce me with a Sailor Moon transformation voice—don’t deny it, I heard you say ‘Moon Prism Power’ under your breath—”

“I was being cute!” you pout.

“You were being a menace.”

You pause.

Then sigh dramatically, flopping your forehead onto his shoulder like you’ve just lost a war. “Fine. But I’m still gonna keep sitting here. I like it.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, arms wrapping around you instinctively.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “You can sit here forever.”

You hum, sleepy now. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

Kyōtani smiles, warm and quiet. “I’m lucky you’re mine.”

And somewhere in the middle of your next sleepy mumble—something about buying matching hoodies and starting a cat cafe together—he thinks maybe he's never been more obsessed with you in his entire life.

GOSHIKI TSUTOMU

It starts with a thud.

Goshiki was brushing his teeth, humming the chorus of some pop song he swears he's gonna sing at karaoke next week (but won’t), when—

THUD.

He freezes.

“…The heck was that?”

Carefully, still foamy-mouthed and in his house slippers, he pads to the front door, heart thumping like he’s about to see a ghost or, worse, a raccoon.

He opens it—

And you’re there.

Lying on the welcome mat. Face squished to the side, limbs in weird angles, giggling quietly to yourself.

“_____?!”

He drops his toothbrush. “O-OH MY GOD—BABE?!”

You look up, eyes glassy and red, makeup smudged, a little glittery, and smiling.

“…You live here, right?” you slur, as if you're not his girlfriend of two years.

He freaks out.

Picks you up bridal style like you weigh absolutely nothing even though his knees nearly give out because adrenaline and panic are battling inside him like two feral hamsters in a blender.

He gets you inside, places you gently on the couch like you're made of glass, and immediately starts muttering

“Okay, okay—uhm—I’ll get water! Or tea! Or like—wipes—tissues???”

You sniffle, eyes brimming with tears. “I fell…”

“I KNOW—I MEAN—I SAW—I MEAN—YOU’RE OKAY NOW—RIGHT??”

You start tearing up.

Goshiki short-circuits.

“I— I— I’LL SING FOR YOU!! PLEASE DON’T CRY!!”

He proceeds to start singing the national anthem.

Panicked. Off-key. At full emotional sincerity.

You burst into laughter. He stops mid-line, blinking as you grab a tissue from his hand and wipe your nose, still giggling.

“You’re so dumb,” you hiccup, wiping your eyes. “You’re so cute.”

He blushes all the way up to his ears.

“Th-That’s not the right response!! You were crying!! And drunk!! And on the ground like a gremlin!!”

You just giggle more, reaching out to boop his nose.

And then you get quiet.

Too quiet.

He looks down to find you suddenly staring at him. Staring at his lips.

Like. Predator-mode.

“…Uh. What?” he says, voice cracking.

Then—you climb on top of him.

“AH—WAIT—BABE—??”

You straddle his lap like it’s the most casual thing ever and lean in very close, pressing your forehead to his.

“I wanna kiss you,” you whisper dramatically. “I wanna eat your collarbone.”

He makes a dying computer noise.

“W-Wait, what?!”

Then you do it.

You kiss him. Sloppily, sweetly, giggly little nips—until your lips trail down to his collarbone and—you BITE.

“OW—BABE—!?”

But before he can even react properly, your body goes limp.

“…Baby?”

You're asleep.

Dead asleep. Draped across him like a weighted blanket. Soft breathing. Lipgloss on his shirt. Bite mark on his collarbone.

He sits there, absolutely flushed and frozen, staring into space like he’s buffering.

“…I think I need a support group,” he whispers to himself.

Then gently wraps his arms around you and holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded in this world of chaos and sparkle.

“I love you,” he mumbles, brushing your hair back softly. “You maniac.”

[theredcuyo]

More of the au with Sqq deciding that he's had Xie Lian for a few months but if anything happens to him he's killing everyone in heaven and then Jun Wu

"Ah, so you did like the new robe we got the other day!" Xie Lian was rather embarassed on this kind of topic, but really, it had been a gesture of good will and Sqq was just so happy to see him wear it "Yes, it's rather beautiful, Shen-Ge"

"Isn't that right? The butterfly motif really brings it out, it's good that we got that spell that keeps it from getting dirty, it would be a shame if not, don't you think?" It would surely sound normal, if Sqq wasn't glaring daggers at every single official they came across from behind his fan while he said it

"It's good it'll stay like this but i still think Shen-ge shouldn't brother himself with things like this" Xie Lian, appreciated the gesture, he really did, but this much for his sake wasn't necessary "Nonsense! Our A-Lian is so pretty, he should be allowed to shine even brighter, ah, but it is true that even if something happened we will be able to clean it up perfectly, not a trace left, i'm sure Chengzu would know what to do even if i didn't"

Covering his face with his hands, Xie Lian didn't know wheter to laugh or cry with such a direct treat to everyone else "Shen-Ge, please..."

"Fine, fine, i'll stop" Sqq conceided, happy to see the other officials squirm on their places and quickly run away. "After all, i wouldn't want A-Lian to get mad at me and sent me away, ah, what would i do then? I would get so worried about A-Lian"

"Shen-Ge..." Xie Lian had to look away, although he knew it was a joke it reminded him of old things, but well, Sqq patted his head again, like he did everytime he was feeling down "I know, i know, our A-Lian has a kind heart, there's almost nothing he could get angry at and if there is, it's surely deserved"

Xie Lian hadn't told him about that person, and didn't plan on doing it anytime soon, little did he know, there was no need, for his brother in law knew already and had experience dealing with abandonment issues, and had also, decided he was to be protected since he reminded him so much of a white lotus he had once helped bloom and decay "But still, even if A-Lian got angry at me and told me to leave, i wouldn't"

"Huh?"

"Ah, i mean, that wouldn't work, i would get too worried about you, so i would stick around and wait so we could solve it out" Xie Lian kept his gaze down, a memory catched on his throat. "After all, if i did something to anger A-Lian, then i should find a way to apologize and make amends, since i care about you, i would much prefer that you feel happy"

"Even if you didn't do anything wrong?" Sqq sighed, what was with him having this heart to heart conversations lately? Ah, really, married life was making him into an emotional old man "Then A-Lian is not mad at me, and i should help him out, you know? My Binghe wasn't at his best before either, when i died, and it took me a while to understand that. That kind of pain, really, i wouldn't wish it on anyone, much less if i can help"

"But... What if i hurt Shen-Ge?"

Sqq opened his fan, the faint memory of Binghe's face in the roof flashing before him "... I don't think A-Lian is the person to do it without reason, whatever it could be"

Not for the first time, Sqq lamented the lack of modern psicology advancements, he wasn't exactly a psycologist and all he knew came from his sister's rants about it "And... if it was a bad reason?"

"Everyone makes mistakes" Xie Lian thought it was probably easier for him to say it, not knowing what he had done, and much less knowing of the regrets Sqq couldn't possibly tell him about "And we learn from them, we fix what can be fixed"

For the first time in a while, Xie Lian lifted up his head, and just for a second, he found that in Shen Qingqiu's gaze was an all familiar guilt "... Is there something Shen-Ge regrets?"

Sqq's hand around his fan tightened "...many things, A-Lian, maybe not enough"

Ah, so it was like that. Maybe it wasn't the same, and they're really weren't the same, but at the same time, he felt like perhaps, there was someone who did understand, as those were thoughts he often had too.

And so, they kept on walking, a topic much softer came, while Sqq hoped that the intention of derailing their path to walk by certain generals' palaces was worth something, he might not like them too much, but Xie Lian deserved friends, friends who could share things with him, that he could not with them, a friend from the same Hometown was a rare gift. "Ah, Shen-Ge i've been meaning to ask... Did ah... Shang Qinghua use to be a heavenly official?"

Sqq huffed. "Someone like him could only wish such thing"

"Ah, then it wasn't a secret inmortal language he was talking in?" Xie Lian had never been one to interact with other inmortals, or even heavenly officials back in his first ascension, so, of course he wouldn't know, or so thought Sqq, but he didn't know either, or he hoped for Airplane's sake that he didn't "Perhaps it's a foreign language? May i know what he said?"

"He said uh... Something like 'buddy, you're awakening Cucumber-bro's daddy instincts, or is it mommy instincts since he takes the heavenly pillar back there?, is he a milf now?, you made Cucumber-bro into a milf' i think...?" Xie Lian's broken try at English didn't make the words less clear on Sqq's brain "Ah, i see, didn't you ask him what it mean?"

"He said it was something about a deal he was working on" Xie Lian's innocent smile didn't betray that he had conveyed this information on purpose, for he hadn't ignored the path they had been walking on, he didn't really know what it meant tho "A-Lian cover your ears"

"Ah... Shen-Ge-"

"Cover. Your. Ears." And Xie Lian did, because those eyes reminded him a little bit too much of Guoshi, when he sent him to copy the sutrhas for a whole night.

The heavens were shaken, just enough for Ling Wen to wonder if someone had ascended again.

Shang Qinghua, on the northen palace, sneezed and felt a sudden urge to hide under Mobei-Jun's bed.

--

Lil' extra on Wwx's imput on this, because Sqq is not leaving him out of seudo group therapy:

"Wuxian, may i ask you something?" Sqq asked when the three of them were drinking tea, as they recounted the latest heavenly gossip for Wwx "Yes, Shen-Ge?"

"... Do you have something You regret?" Wwx kept his smile, and waved his hand around his body, of course, he'd rather joke "What do you think Shen-ge? Do i?"

Sqq sighed "You know that's not what i meant, do you remember that which you regret?"

Wwx kept his smile as he scratched his head "Aiyah, well, my memory is never been that good, you know! I couldn't even remember my own little radish and the love of my life, how could i remember that?"

Sqq and Xl blushed a little at his wording, really, only Wuxian would be capable of saying 'Love of his Life' with such a straight face, even if that was the only straight thing about him. Xie Lian tho, could feel in his smile something familiar "Wei-Ge... I know you said that now you stay for Wangji and Sizhui-er but..."

Wei Wuxian, who had not long ago convinced Xie Lian to call him ge, was still a little bit weak to it. "I know, i know, but there are things that can't be fixed, right, Shen-Ge?"

Sqq sighed, it was like they were birds of the same feather, and he knew that, but still he didn't want such a sad face into someone he cared for, so he reached out to pat Wwx's head, and he, who had been expecting to get hit with the fan again, froze "We fix what can be fixed, but sometimes when we want to put back together a bowl, we get cut with the pieces, so we should also bandage ourselves and not just think about the bowl"

"I..."

"Since you're a mess, i'll bandage it for you if you wanted to" Wuxian huffed something similar to a laugh "And My Binghe would try to heal you with his blood, again"

"Shen-Ge, i think San Lang's butterflies work well for those too" Xie Lian smiled at both of them, a supporting hand on Wwx's shoulder "Ah, but i also know some ways! Rouyue wouldn't mind helping you too, Wei-ge!"

Hearing its name, Rouye popped up from Xie Lian's sleeve, rolling itself friendly on Wwx's hand "Ah, but, you know, A-Lian? I think Wuxian would much rather have Wangji kissing it better"

At that, Wwx actually laughed, his usual shamelesness back with him "Aiyah! Shen-Ge knows me too well, Lan Zhan's kisses are truly magical even when he makes a fuss about it!"

-------

I think the metaphors are pretty on the nose for this one? And not me again considering to write a damn fic already, tbf, i wanted this one to be short, it didn't ask me when it decided to keep on going

Sqq deciding he's going to protect the others because they're his family now is my second favorite thing about this au, the first one is Hua Cheng having a family that loves him-

[downsteepy]

i am very grateful that im not someone that has to deal with daily seizures but it is evil when it takes like a week and a half's worth of business days to recover from a seizure

[aqualityofthought]

Was going to say my worst fear would be finding out one of my mutuals was that one woman who fucked me up, but I found her Tumblr...

[sp4ceboo]

ai rant in tags bc im so fucking tired

[catto-ohno]

Quick ramble in the tags (not the fun kind)

[arolesbianism]

Guess who's thinking abt eg au again

[whoviandoodler]

hot take but pirating books serves the same function as watching game playthroughs

[rivilu]

The more I think about the story through Daeran's pov the more insane i go. btw.

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon, who swears he is perfectly fine and capable of doing everything himself. But it doesn’t really matter what he thinks says because Price sees differently. He sees the way Simon’s hands shake and how he’s started fidgeting when he’s never done that in the past, he can see Simon’s right side, the side that was crushed under rubble during an attack, he sees it shake and almost falter every time Simon puts even a little bit to much weight on it, but what worry’s Price the most is when Simon zones out and stops paying attention to his surroundings or whatever he’s doing. Not to mention now Simon has to go back and live in civilization, when all he’s known is military life since he was still a teen.

So although Simon claims he’s fine, Price gets him live-in-help, you. You’ve been with him the past week and although he rarely talks you’ve learned a few things. The blinds always need to be fully open unless he’s sleeping, he needs to be able to see what’s happening but it’ll keep him up when he’s trying to sleep, so they close at night. He gets very tense when he can’t see your hands, it hurts you a little to know he doesn’t trust you but you understand. He can't cook at all, unless you prepare food for him he’ll only eat a prepackaged dinner nothing else, of course that isn't healthy so you've started fixing him both breakfast and lunch which he accepts with a grunt but he doesn’t eat till you’ve started. He never takes off his mask around you unless he's eating and even still only up to his nose. Lastly you've noticed something always sparked in his eyes when you called him Simon, you haven't been able to figure out what it is so instead of risking offending him or something, you've stuck to calling him Ghost.

Price chose you for two reasons, you were quite, something he thought Simon would like, he was very wrong. It’s probably the oddest thing about him, he doesn’t like when you're super quiet you've learned it cause he doesn’t know where you are or what you’re planning the other reason is Price hired you is because you were a military nurse for quite a bit so you would always be there for Simon. This was something Simon actually did like it meant he didn’t have to leave his flat just to see a doctor, what he didn’t think about though was the cut and bruise on his face that he would have to remove his balaclava for.

“Okay Ghost” you paused not sure how he would react to having to take his mask off “I-i need you to remove your mask for me please” almost immediately he grunted out a why “because you have a cut and bruise on your face and I need to make sure it’s healing properly” Simon stilled completely for a few seconds before he slowly pulled the balaclava completely off. You took a second looking over his entire face before you brought your hand up inspecting the area “your bruise is completely gone” you whispered slightly surprised it had only been a week, you went to write it down but the moment your hand left his face he spoke up “it’s still ere, jus can’t see it” carefully your brought you hand back to his face to carefully push on his check “does that hurt” “bit” was all he grunted out, you hummed to yourself as you removed your hand and started writing, but had you been looking at him you would have seen the almost pout gracing his face.

Once you finally looked back up, placing your hand on his face “okay let’s finish this quickly” you say looking over his scar “I know I’m not that pretty but you ain’t gotta rush” he said in the quietest voice. You looked up into his eyes quickly only to find them looking back at you with what you could only describe as curiosity mixed with need “Gh-Simon that’s not what I meant, your very beautiful I just thought you wouldn't want me touching or looking at your face any more since you always hide it behind that mask” he never replied to you, just kept staring with that look in his eyes. Finally you peeled your eyes away, finished writing whatever you needed to in your book then you got up and walked away “I’m gonna fix us some lunch, okay Simon?” you called from in the kitchen already, and that’s when Simon managed to place the feeling he had been having every time he saw you. He liked you, he had a crush, a crush! “Simon?” You called again “yeah okay” he called back, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up, not when he thinks he might have found a new purpose in life.

pt 2 here

[sesamenom-sideblog]

actually i changed my mind i'm inflicting my tags upon all of you

Damn good XKCD today if you haven’t seen it, lads.

[salemlunaa]

STOP WITH THE NEEDINESS ❦

wanna shift? let me put you out of your misery

This is the only method you need to induce pure consciousness/ tap into the “I AM”/ tap into the void:

relax, deep breathing

affirm “I AM”

relax some more

detach, get lost in the darkness of your closed eyes

you’re done, you’ve shifted

there are no if ands or buts, there’s no “i was so close”, “it just doesn’t work for me”. this method cannot fail, there is no such thing, at all, it’s you who focuses too much on the symptoms, it’s you gets upset when “nothing happens” before rolling over to go to sleep just to endure another day in your shitty reality. it’s you who fails to see your own potential and it’s only you who can change that

this is the basic method that works for anyone with a conscious and subconscious mind,

it’s not anyone’s fault that you’ve decided to overcomplicate it

that’s the basic fucking template you don’t need shit but yourself

stop with the neediness it’s getting kinda pathetic

You dont need to follow some stupid 10k affirmation challenge

You don’t need to follow any challenges lasting weeks

You don’t need subliminals or waves or a guided meditation

You don’t need to ask bloggers the same shit and vent about how you “just can’t do it”

You don’t need to lucid dream

You don’t need any of this

again the basic template is only difficult to you because of the over-complication of it all

Let me give you an example: Imagine you’re a baker and there’s this iconic legendary baker who has this incredible, world famous cake, they give the world a recipe to it and it’s quite simple. how can such a simple recipe impress the taste buds of so many? it doesn’t matter about the how or why, it just does. But so many bakers around the world, including you, are scared of not impressing their customers so they add all this other shit to the recipe that was perfectly fine. And it just makes everything so complicated, all because they don’t trust that the original recipe will be able to impress and satisfy their customers.

That basic recipe is the “method” that Neville gave to us, he didn’t have tumblr, he didn’t have youtube to binge fucking yoga nidra meditation videos. He didn’t have a phone to inhale subliminal after subliminal like it’s a full time job. He didn’t have bloggers shoving 10k challenges down his throat, and guess what, he was just fine! Stop overcomplicating the recipe, all you need is the mind. You don’t need a fucking routine, all you need is you

But I know there are some people who will look at this, scroll past and still scan their feed, scrambling for an “instant method” like some junky. And to that i say, go ahead, waste your days overcomplicating the act of shifting consciousness, waste your days overconsuming, doomscrolling, complaining. The law and the art of shifting was always real and will continue to be real while you sit there with absolutely nothing, so go ahead. Rack your brain to the point of a headache, to the point of insanity trying to understand what’s right infront of you, you’re only doing yourself harm.

shifting consciousness/ the “I AM” state/ the void is a basic ability, it’s like breathing, just fucking do it

IT’S A BASIC ABILITY, YOU DONT NEED POINTERS 🎀💋

[sunbeamfae]

idk how else to describe it but some songs sound like the vocals were recorded on a podcast type mic and it bothers me

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Love and Deep Pockets"

Our LADS Men are financially stable we know this however.....what kind of provider are they? Walk with me....

Zayne

Type: Head of Household

I see Zayne as the traditional head of the household type of man. However he respects you and understands that if you want to work you're free to do so. Just know that all the money you make is yours alone.

MC: Let me pay for something! Zayne: Just let me take care of you

If you really insist on paying he will let you if that's what will make you happy/feel better. Otherwise he's covering all the bills, dates, trips, etc. the only thing that gets split 50/50 are household duties and even then you have to strong arm your way into the kitchen or into doing any of the cleaning.

Zayne is incredibly self sufficient; he's clean and orderly. He is used to keeping his house clean and his clothes washed, pressed, and folded. He's almost unreal with how perfect he is.

The only time you really spend your own money is when it's a surprise for him or when you're alone. He enjoys taking care of you because he absolutely adores you. You're a dream come true and he'll do anything to keep you happy.

Rafayel

Type: Head of Household, False Sense of Independence Provider

If you want to be spoiled he's perfectly fine with that. He's rich and you're his babygirl as long as he can see that smile and be around you he's a happy camper.

Now if you are hell bent on splitting 50/50 Rafayel will let you think you two are splitting bills and things 50/50 meanwhile all the money you send him for half of anything he's putting it into an account that's just collecting interest. He will let you pay for anything and everything you want but best believe he's reimbursing you behind your back.

He'd laugh when you figure it out and try to cuss him out.

MC: I gave you that money to help with the bills Rafayel: and it did help .... it helped me giggle while you thought I'd actually let you pay for anything.

Xavier

Type: Head of Household, No Argument

Xavier is also traditional in a way I mean he's a prince. He is definitely providing everything with no argument. The day you decided to move in with him your bill paying days were over. He let you have your independence when you lived alone, but now you're in his care.

MC: I could've paid for it Xavier: I know but now you don't have to

You can go shopping, buy groceries, buy lunch .... if you're by yourself. If he's with you expect him to already be sliding his card into your hand or directly into the card reader before you can even pull yours out. You have to damn near fist fight this man to pay for anything.

Sylus

Type: Sugar Daddy, Head of Household, Spoiled Brat

SYYLLUUUSSSS. I need him in ways that are unhealthy. This man is spoiling the absolute FUCK out of you. He gave you his black card like it was nothing and asking to spend his money is a 'trivial matter'

You had a bad day? Deposit. You had a good day? Deposit. He misses you? Deposit. Just because? Deposit.

Don't even think about trying to pay for something with your own money. He's the type to hide your cards and slip his into your wallet just so you have no choice, but to spend his money.

MC: I have my own money you know Sylus: Im more than aware kitten I just dont care

Whats his is yours and what's yours is yours. That’s his mentality all he wants to do is make sure you want for nothing and you have the most comfortable life with him.

Don't worry if you still want to work he wouldn't stop you, but those weekly or biweekly checks are just going to be collecting interest because it won't be touched.

[alexiroflife]

"first day"

fluff, happy fushiguro family, slice of life, megs' first day of school send-off

Synopsis: you've been dating toji for a while now and megumi subconsciously calls you mom for the first time on his way out the door

to sum it up: you adore the little family you've come to be a part of

WC: 1,701

Warning(s): none

"Megs!" you call out, standing by the front door awaiting the dark-haired boy's arrival. He soon shuffles around the corner from his room, throwing a bag over his shoulder with a tired expression on his face.

His father turns to watch him walk in, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. "The hell were you doing in there that took you so long?"

"Nothing," Megumi grumbles, moving to brush past the two of you to rush to the door. "I just wanted to look presentable, that's all."

"So you took thirty minutes to get ready?" Toji quirks a brow.

"Believe it or not, dad, some would say that's not enough time to get ready in the morning."

"Not at all, actually," you agree.

Toji tugs the corner of his mouth in judgment. " Well, you should know," he says to you. "You spend at least ten years in the bathroom when we have somewhere to go."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "That's such an overreaction. I never take any longer than an hour." Megumi and his father exchange knowing looks and you place your hand on your hip. "What?"

"Don't worry baby," Toji assures you. "It's okay to be in denial."

"We've timed it before. The last time we all went out to dinner as a family, you took two and a half hours to get dressed," Megumi adds.

"That's only because I had to shower and pick out an outfit then do my hair and makeup," you defend.

"Isn't that a little overkill? It takes me half that time to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get some homework done."

"Whatever. Your sister would understand," you sigh.

"Unfortunately, she may be worse than you."

"Women," Toji tsks. You slap his bicep and he pretends to flinch, smirking down at you playfully. "Ouch."

"Alright, well, I'm ready now. I don't wanna be late," the sixteen year old says, turning back to reach for the door handle.

"Ah ah ah, wait!" you stop him. "You're not going anywhere without me getting a good look at you. Turn around, I wanna see how the uniform fits."

Megumi lowers his head and complies, turning back around stiffly for you to admire him. You press your hand to your lips to conceal your smile, eyes gleaming with pride as you look over the sharp navy jacket and pants he adorns.

"Awwww," you coo. "It fits perfectly! How does it feel?"

"Pretty good," Megumi nods, moving his arm around slightly to show his mobility in the fabric. "It's comfortable too. It shouldn't be a problem during missions."

"I still can't believe how quickly time has gone by," you muse. "You're already going into your first year at Jujutsu High! Are you excited?"

"You better be," Toji grunts. "Your uncle Gojo hasn't gotten off my ass about your enrollment for years. At least now, he'll finally shut up."

"I still don't understand why I have to have him as a teacher. He's such a moron, I doubt he'll teach us anything useful," Megumi mumbles.

"Moron or not, he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and he's helped out so much. I'm sure he'll be able to give you a good experience," you say positively.

"We talkin' about the same Gojo here? The one who trashed my house playing tag with Megumi and the dogs in the living room?" Toji points out and his son grits his teeth at the memory.

"Oh come on, Satoru was like twenty one back then. I can only imagine the crazy shit you've with the kids when you were raising them," you tease.

"You don't even want to know," Megumi exhales.

"Please, you came out just fine, didn’t ya?” Toji says, reaching out his hand to ruffle at Megumi's spiky hair. The teen recoils, craning his head away and shielding himself with his arm.

"Quit it. I'm not five anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're all grown up now, I know. Gonna be a first-grade sorcerer before I can even blink an eye."

"Who said that I would be first grade? I'm only a first year."

"Yeah, and look at who your pops is," Toji grins. "Plus, you got an advantage that I never had. You'll do just fine."

Megumi hums indifferently, doubting himself momentarily but accepting the words nonetheless. "Alright, are we ready?"

"No, not yet!" you pull out your phone quickly and open the camera. "I need to get pictures."

The blue-eyed boy slumps. "(Y/n), I gotta go."

"I know, I know, just a few," you promise, holding your camera up to capture his awkward figure in the frame. "Okay, smile."

Megumi doesn't, and of course you don't actually expect him to. Instead, he calmly stares at the camera with his arms at his sides, unsure of what to do with themselves. Toji moves to stand behind you, leaning down to take a peak at the million pictures you're snapping.

"Toji, go stand with him so I can get one with the both of you."

The two groan simultaneously. "Doll, can we just focus on gettin' the kid to school?"

"It's fine. His stuff is already moved into his dorm. We have time."

"But-"

"Shut up and go stand with your son, now," you glare firmly up at the green-eyed man and he huffs.

"Yes, ma'am."

Toji raises a hand to his hip and tilts his head boredly as he stands beside Megumi, the two of them sharing the exact same blank stare as they look into the camera. You squeal happily. "You two are so cuteee!"

"We done, now?"

"No, I wanna get one more with Megs, and then I'm good." The boys give you a look, but you wave them off. "I mean it! Gosh, here Toji. Take our picture."

Toji obliges, grabbing your phone from your hand as you rush over to the tall boy. His expression melts into serenity as you place your hands on his shoulders and lean your head against his arm, smiling widely at the camera as a hint of a smile touches Megumi's lips.

Toji's heart warms at the sight, watching the way his son grows comfortable in your presence. The picture of the two of you looks so natural t to him like you are meant to be a part of his family, which he knows you are.

He snaps the photo and nods. "Got it."

You exhale, turning to face Megumi. You brush your hands over his shoulders to straighten his jacket, ridding it of any lint and wrinkles. "Okay, Megumi, please remember to be safe."

"I know. I will," he nods.

"And don't be too reckless when it comes to training."

"I won't."

"And try to make friends. I know how easy it is for you to push others away."

"I'll try."

You press your lips together with a final sigh, looking over Megumi's face warmly. You wrap your arms safely around him into a hug, your emotions getting the best of you. You have spent the past year caring for Megumi like your own, and watching him head off to achieve his goals makes your heart swell with joy and fear all the same.

"Text me or your father or Tsumiki if you need anything. Anything at all," you tell him. He returns your hug gently.

"Okay," he chuckles lightly and you pull away. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"...I know you will..." you pout. "Okay, I'll let you go. Good luck. I hope you have an amazing first day. I'll see you at the end of the week, yeah?"

"Mhm. I'll call you to let you know how the day went later."

"Please do."

Toji hands you back your phone and walks toward the door with Megumi. "Let's get a move on," he says. He leans over quickly to peck your lips farewell. "I'll be back in a few."

"Don't speed, Toji."

"Speeding gets you places quicker," he winks and you suck your teeth disapprovingly. Megumi opens the door, his dad gripping the frame.

"Bye, boys. Stay out of trouble," you wave, eyes glassy as you watch Megumi walk out.

"See ya, doll."

"Bye, mum."

The three of you freeze the second the words hit the air, everyone stilling in their tracks.

You feel your heart burst as overwhelming happiness consumes you. Megumi keeps his face forward, hiding his reddening cheeks as he processes what he has just said. Toji stares at the back of his son's head, eyes wide, before he turns to look at you to find your shocked, giddy face.

You don't have any time to reply when Megumi clears his throat suddenly, sweat dotting his forehead, and he walks rigidly out of the house and swiftly down the hall without looking back.

Toji stays behind, keeping an eye on you when you look up at him, stunned. "Did he just...?" you murmur.

"Yep."

Your eyes immediately well with tears and your lips wobble, your hands flying over your mouth. "He sees me as his mom?" you whisper.

Toji chuckles, ducking down to you with his hand still gripping the door. "Of course he does. He's always adored you. Him and Tsumiki."

"I'm gonna cry."

The assassin chuckles softly, pressing his thumb to the corner of your eye gently. "You're already cryin.'"

"Shut up," you sniff. "God, I love those kids so much. I just wanna give him all the hugs in the world."

"And you'll be able to. There isn't a better woman on this planet to be there for the kids," he kisses your cheek. "That's why I plan t'marry you someday."

"Fuck you, Toj. You're gonna make me cry even more."

"Sorry, baby. Can't help talkin' about it," he leans back to the doorway. "Let me get the kid squared away and make sure he's not dyin' of embarrassment, then I'll be back to talk to ya about makin' this official."

"You're being for real?"

"Of course I am."

You lower your hands and beam. "Tell Megumi I love him and get back here soon."

"I will," he hums. "But I thought you said no speeding?"

"Just- make sure the two of you at least get to the school in one peace."

He smirks. "Will do, doll."