#the way op writes is literally perfect

[andkisses]

[🌸] can i call you tonight? w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / fluff, cheesy 🌸🧀 / idol!txt / non.idol!you / employee!you / lowkey mutual pining  ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 400 words for each member / altogether, word count: 1,237 words  ✿ in which they take a chance on asking to call you for the first time… ✿ a/n: i was listening to can i call you tonight by dayglow (honestly, a fave) and was inspired to write a little something! (also give the song a listen, it’s so dreamy and cute >:)) [masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut! / @kflixnet​ ☎️

[🐰] soobin soobin is nervous as his fingers hover over his carefully crafted text of ‘i’m bored, can we call? 👀’. yet, he doesn’t have the guts to send it with his fingers trembling, heart racing and pounding in his chest. his head is ringing so loud despite his room being empty, filled with his thoughts of ‘what if’s and ‘should i’ swirling all over. in the midst of him impatiently fidgeting his legs stretched out on the bed, he takes a deep breath and builds up the courage to ah, screw it. i’ll just–his eyes widen when he actually sends the message and it’s delivered. he holds his breath as he waits, half-refusing to look at the phone, half-anticipating your response like a lifeline. his heart thrashes uncontrollably in his chest when his ringtone starts playing and he sees that–y/n ✨ is calling… soobin can’t even hide the smile on his face when he answers the call, subtly making out that he can hear you smiling just as you greet him over the phone. he clutches onto his phone as he sinks deeper into the pillows, into his mattress, all while being hooked on the sound of your voice coaxing him at ease.

Keep reading

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

[merlucide]

PLEASEEEEE CAN YOU WRITE HEADCANONS WITH RIN, KAISER, SAE, OTOYA AND REO AND A SHYREADER WHOS SHY AROUND PEOPLE SHE DOESNT KNOW BUT CRAZZYYYY AROUND PEOPLE SHE DOES KNOW PLSSSSS

BLLK BOYS WITH A SHY BUT CRAZY S/O

Notes: OFC WIFEY. Also… this scenario, seems, a bit self insert don’t you think…. 👀 ALSO LMAO I MADE READER UNHINGED?? SO- SORRY LMAO?

characters: Rin, Sae, Kaiser, Otoya, Reo

wc: about 300ish each

warnings: nb reader, cursing, randomness + cringe lmao😭

ITOSHI RIN

Well tbh, y’all probably had to have been friends for a loooong time for him to ever considering dating you 😭😭

So Rin had a good understanding of your personality, as you had known each other pretty much since the beginning of time.

He never understood how your personality went from 0 to 1000 whenever you two are alone. 

He prob thinks ur on drugs tbh

He’ll be your voice for you if you can’t seem to communicate with strangers, though he might not be the friendliest no shit.

he thinks it’s dumb that you’re shy tbh

He’s small minded about these things okay 😭

He never ever will get used to your bursts of crazy energy.

he swears he’ll turn around and you’ll have a horse mask on with a tutu around your waist

ITOSHI SAE

lmao you give him terrible whiplash.

He too, also thinks you’re on drugs.

You and Sae would like be at the airport on the way to Japan, his manager would be going over the details and precautions for going to Japan (yk fans and press or whatever etc etc).

His manager looked over to you and asked if you were alright, since you literally hadn’t spoken a word since he introduced himself a two hours ago. 

You nodded and followed Sae and his manager onto the private jet(cus he’s rich-rich😌🤭)

Once y’all were settled, his manager closed you and Sae’s cabin door. 

Sae looked over to see if you were alright, since traveling and yadda yadda can be overwhelming.

You were fucking giggling like an underwater hyena (that’s a thing I bc I fucking said so bitch).

You grabbed his hands and pulled back and forth giggling about how stoked you were rn.

LMAO HE WAS TOTALLY LOOKING AT U LIKE THIS

KAISER MICHEAL

lmao he was disturbed at first 💀

like “wtf happens to my shy, sweet, s/o??”

He’ll like be getting a glass of water at night and in the corner of his eye, you hold a flashlight at your face with a blanket wrapped around you. Staring into his soul, inches behind singing.

“hello darkness my old frienddd~”

He just blinked at you for a while. 

“Y/N what the fuck is wrong with you.”

ANYWHOOO!

He thinks it’s funny af though

Like how nervous you get around his teammates and then when y’all are home you start cartwheeling.

You sure keep his life ✨spontaneous✨

OTOYA EITA

LMAO A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

YOUR RANDOM AF.

HES RANDOM AF.

= SOULMATES

he thinks it’s so cute how shy you are

He loves that bc ur shy around strangers you cling/stay close to him. He feels so sigma male bc he’s ’protecting’ you🐺🐺🔊🔊🗣️🗣️😏😏

Someone humble him please.

LMAO HE’LL GO LIKE:

“Babe watch this😏” and ninja pose really fast LIKE A LITTLE KID DABBING

And you’ll be like:

“Nah watch this😌” *does the worm*

Y’all T-pose at pidgend together 💕 #couplegoals

MIKAGE REO

LMAO HE’LL BE DAYDREAMING AND LIKE-

“My dearest Y/N! Oh they’re such an angel! They’re so pretty and kind and perfect! And amazing- is that them in a dinosaur inflatable doing the WAP in 6 inch heels?”

lmao kinda how it goes

He never really gets used to the switch up.

It makes him so happy that you feel comfortable to be yourself around him, even if that means painting yourself pink and putting googly-eyes on while blasting the Peppa Pig intro💗

He loves hearing people talk about you too.

“Oh y/n is really shy, but they’re nice I guess?” Like hah okay..

Pretty sure they weren’t crab walking in a tuxedo with a kazoo in their mouth playing Sinfonia N°9 Coral in D Minor, Op. 125: 1. Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso by Beethoven 🙄🙄

LMAO I HAD NO IDEA WERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS. I WAS LIKE “wtf am I gonna do😦”

made April 21st 2024

[k3ntarou]

listen to me, look me in the eyes, HELP ME BREATHE

𝗟𝗼𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗸 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱

𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘀: katsuki bakugou, denki kaminari

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 18+ mdni, fem!reader // oral (m!receiving), deep-throating, messy blowjobs, mentions of drool/spit, facial (bakugou). established relationships, they're aged up.

masterlist

𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗜

Getting off your birth control leaves you feral.

Bakugou – slightly confused but nevertheless thrilled by the urgency you exhibit – isn’t quite sure what’s gotten into you as he watches you drool on his dick, looking all snug between his thick thighs when he comes home from work that night. 

Tugging him by the hand as soon as he had stepped foot through the front door of your shared apartment, your perplexed boyfriend hadn’t been even given the chance to kick off his heavy combat boots before you had come running in your adorable pyjama set and socks, colliding straight into his rather startled embrace.

Now, his gauntlets lay abandoned on the floorboards beside the small pile of clothes which you’ve practically torn off of your body in meek attempt of getting yourself naked for him as quickly as possible. Kneeling before him, you’re completely bare whilst making eye contact with the most lust-blown eyes he’s ever seen you own. Your cheeks turn hollow as you suck him off like you’re the thirstiest bitch he’s ever had the pleasure of encountering.

That turns him hot and bothered, but he knows better than to say it out loud. You’re acting like a little whore, licking and swallowing down his salty pre-cum like it’s a delicious treat, and it makes his skin pull taut and his body temperature rise until he wants to tug at the stretchy spandex of his hero suit like a madman. 

But instead of doing that, and thus risking tearing the fabric, he slides his gaze along the arch of your exposed spine; bounces it along the curves of the two plush hills that form your tight peach, which he likes to spank oh, so very much.

Your skin is glimmering with sweat in the mellow light of the TV you were watching just before he had arrived. So pretty.

“Fuck babe,” Katsuki mutters, voice low and raspy – so, so tired, “somebody needs it bad, huh?”

All you do in reply is take him deeper into your mouth; warmth and wetness embracing his sensitivity in an instant. It makes him hiss through gritted teeth, rosy lips pursing when your tongue starts to twirl over the swollen cockhead.

Katsuki sinks deeper into the decorative cushions of the couch, pushing the mask from his eyes and up onto his forehead with one terribly sluggish movement. Spikes of ash blonde bend underneath it as he breathes in deep and sighs. The bruising ache that riddles his entire body persists to linger long after work, but he allows himself to relax by sheer will. 

He’s finally home, spending quality time with his girl. It’s about damn time, he deserves a little break like this one.

Though, he should give you something in return. Right?

When he reaches out and runs his gloved fingers through your hair, you suck him even harder as a reward. Warm spit gathers at the corners of your lips, making them glisten. 

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. He loves how much you love him. It’s so evident, there are literal hearts in your eyes. The pure shitshow that are your hormone levels right now are making you insane in your horny little brain, and it suits him just fine.

All eagerness and urgency to please your pro hero after his tiresome patrol; you’re dragging your pink tongue along the throbbing vein on the underside like a hungry kitty laps at a bowl of cream. He can’t tear his tired eyes off of you. You’re just so nice to look at; slutty and yearning for his cock like that.

But god-fucking-damn it, he’s ready to bust the fattest nut when your lips leave him and you take a deep, shuddering breath that nearly sounds like a little gasp. Your mouth – that sweet, wonderful mouth – wraps around one gloved digit and sucks. Nips. Teeth clench lightly and tug. Until the leather slides off and the calluses on his hand scrape your cheek instead. Skin to skin contact.

If it were anyone else, you’d be worried about germs on the damn thing. But it’s Katsuki fucking Bakugou’s glove you’ve just taken the liberty of putting in your mouth. If you wanted to, you could eat a damn meal off of it, it is in fact that clean and you both know it.

However you; you are nasty. As the leather falls onto the floor with a silent thud, you pucker your lips and spit right onto his fat cock, fingers wrapping tighter around the already slick base. You start to pump: up and down, up and down, up and down – tits bouncing with the movement, hands looking so fucking small compared to his intimidating size.

He’s so red in the face. He can feel the tingle of heat, and he hates it, because now you muse when you look him dead in the eye. And holy shit, the smirk that ghosts over your lips makes him want to smash his head against the wall like the angry bull that he is.

You just provoke him in the worst possible way; provoke him in the best way. It’s no wonder he plans to marry you someday. But judging by how you’re acting right now, he guesses that the baby will come first.

“Look at you,” you taunt him like you’re reading his mind, smiling that tricksy grin that makes his heart want to roar. “Somebody needs it real bad, huh?”

Oh, you little minx.

“Shut the fuck–hah...” He blinks when you grip him tighter and palm him faster, the bridge of his nose scrunching in annoyance whilst he attempts to gather his wits and thus clenches his thighs. He’s so tired, he can’t hold on for much longer. It’s been nearly ten minutes, the time isn’t his best one but fuck it. He’s fucking drained, all right?!

Well, not fully drained yet. But he’s about to be.

“Gonna cum for me?” Your eyes are so glazed as you say it. “Gonna cum for me real good, big boy?”

“Y-yeah.” His exhale is painful as it lodges in the back of his throat, the stutter that had just left his mouth making him see red. He’s going to lose it, he wants his control back. A snarl forms as he grits out, “That is, if you go fuckin’ faster... C’mon, hotshot. Pick up the pace.”

Before you can retaliate with what he guesses is yet another witty remark, he wraps your hair into a tight knot around his beaten-up knuckles and tugs it harshly before he shoves you down. Head pusher, that’s what he is. He’s all fake arrogance despite breaking apart, thumb stroking your cheekbone as he holds you down, down, down – makes you choke.

His hips buck upwards now, nice and steady. He’s fucking your mouth just like you wanted him to as the blazing heat inside his stomach goes loose and he loses himself as a result. And for fuck’s sake, somehow, during all of this, he manages to lose control of his quirk, too. 

Sparks dance atop his broad palm when he releases the makeshift knot of your hair and cups your hot, tear-stained cheek instead. It tickles as it grazes your skin, the heat completely bearable but still hot enough to leave you startled.

It starts to burn rather quickly.

“Babe, no, no, no–” Katsuki grits his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath, “Wait a fuckin’ sec, dumbass!” 

It’s all bark, you yank your head back the moment the sparks touch you for a second time around, and he can’t stop it. It’s too late.

There’s no explosion as his toes curl in his boots and he cums; of course there isn’t, just thick ropes of white. He can handle his quirk just fine, even if the rein sometimes slips from his hands at vulnerable times like these. But there is something else, though.

A facial.

It is an accidental one, to be fair. Still, accident or not, you don’t look happy.

“Sweetheart,” he pants, reaching out. His palm still feels warm from the quirk as the scent of caramel promptly fills the room.

The glare you point at him is nowhere near as sweet.

“Ki, you fucker! You got it into my hair!”

𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗞𝗜

Denki zaps you the moment his dick winds up inside your warm mouth.

The poor man just can’t help it. Even almost a year of steady dating is not enough to get him used to being spoiled by a pretty girl such as yourself. Watching you in all your glory is everything he could have ever wished for, and it makes him so fucking sensitive and dumb in the brain that it’s no wonder his quirk went berserk in mere minutes.

Shit. His quirk went haywire.

The realization actually hurts him more than it hurts you.

The little gasp you voice when the faintest hint of electricity flashes over your cheek as he caresses it in an attempt to soothe you, is enough to make the pro hero begin to drown in pure, relentless panic. Now, the flash of white-hot pain brings tears to your waterline as it lingers on your skin. It doesn’t ache all that much, but instinct prevails and you flinch despite not wanting to.

You can feel it in your teeth.

“Fuck, I-I’m so sorry!” He’s barely keeping his eyes from rolling into the back of his skull as concern falls over his sharp features when the realization strikes as quick as his quirk did. “Did I–... Did I hurt you? Does it hurt…?! I’m s’sorry!”

He’s babbling and slurring on his words because your mouth is once more full of cock despite the initial surprise; plush lips wrapping around the head that’s causing him so much trouble. You’re that adamant on making him cum and he’s just so dumb. It’s lovely, especially as you kiss his dick and mumble out a determined, “Mm-mm.”

Denki isn’t convinced, even when you offer him your best efforts.

“You sure? Wouldn’t it be better if I checked…? Yeah, I should check, shouldn’t I?” His pause only makes his worries grow even more profound. It’s cute but agitating; the way he’s literally talking to himself and losing focus whilst you're attempting to make him relax. “Lemme check.”

“Mmh- It’s fine, you didn’t even zap me all that much, c’mooon!” Pop! – a groan is voiced in protest from your side as you part from him fully with an audible noise and a long string of glimmering saliva that is stubborn at keeping you connected to him no matter the stretch and the vacant space in-between.

Staring at it, the glare you fix for him now makes the yellow in his eyes all the softer. He feels so appreciated because of how badly you wish to please him, he really does, but he just can’t concentrate if there’s even the slightest chance out there of him causing you harm.

Not that he could concentrate at any other given matter. He is buzzing all over as he grips your face to check for any signs of injury and thus leaves you burning in his wake; you can hear the hum of his immaculate power inside your ears.

Up-close, it is frightening. Thrilling. It makes adrenaline course your very blood.

Every touch makes you shudder. The voltage that’s still present isn’t nearly as high as to be considered deadly, but it is potent enough that it makes his hair stand up. It aims towards the ceiling as lightning weaves through every vividly-blonde strand.

Watching him in literal awe, he looks like he’s sunk underwater mid-air. How peculiar. Enticing.

Glowing, your boyfriend's skin is riddled with sparks that crackle and remind you of the static you used to collect on old television screens when you were a child. The entire room feels too small as his overwhelming presence begins to pour in and overtake the room. He’s just so full of life that it’s scary in a way; especially because it seems that he doesn’t realize how strong he actually is.

Pure energy runs through his veins and turns you alert. Turns you needy and horny for more, because he’s like a deity in your eyes, no matter how much he stumbles over his words and how wide his eyes get in concern.

Seconds pass. He’s breathing so hard it’s funny in a way. A chuckle slips out and he follows suit.

It turns into a groan rather fast when you lean down to please him again. Kisses travel along the length of his cock, wet lips pressing small, lovely affections that make him twitch all over as heat begins to pour inside his belly.

“C-cutie, I-...” His voice breaks before he can say anything more. He’s breathless.

“Shh. Focus, dummy.”

You can feel the hint of electricity again as it kisses your tongue when you take him back in. It turns you numb; makes you yearn for more. Thoughts become blurry, saliva turns runny. Even your eyes are rolling back as you feel the lightning fill the hollow of your bones.

His spine goes rigid when you fully commit to making him spill, but he still runs his fingers through your hair so gently it makes your heart flutter. His moans fill the room. Nothing but breathless, hot whines and incoherent curses that stick to the ceiling.

Every smooth flick of your tongue rolling against his sensitive tip is heavenly. Goddammit, just seeing you on your knees – utterly naked and looking up at him through tear-riddled lashes – is heavenly. He’s ready to bust a circuit, quite literally. Especially when you push further down and take him in, in, in, without him even having to ask for it.

Minutes pass. Up and down, in and out. He’s deep in your throat, bulging against your skin and inching closer to your heart with every bob of your head. Oh, what a delight that is.

But it’s a problem, too. Keeping his consciousness sticking together while you’re going down on him is a task that proves to be awfully troublesome for a ditzy man like Denki. The last two brain cells he owns are skipping out of his brain with a quick ‘See ya.’  as your throat tightens around him and you suck even harder.

He hopes they’ll come back after he cums and you wipe your mouth clean.

God knows he could use them.

[anistarrose]

I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide

[Plain text: "I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide." End plain text.]

While every image posted online should be accessible in an ideal world, we all know it 1) takes time to learn how to write image descriptions, and 2) is easy to run out of spoons with which to write IDs. And this says nothing of disabilities that make writing them more challenging, if not impossible — especially if you're a person who benefits from IDs yourself.

There are resources for learning how to write them (and if you already know the basics, I'd like to highlight this good advice for avoiding burnout) — but for anyone who cannot write IDs on their original posts at any current or future moment, for any reason, the there are two good options for posting on Tumblr.

1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord

[Plain text: "1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord". End plain text.]

The People's Accessibility Discord is a community that volunteers description-writing (and transcript-writing, translation, etc) for people who can't do so themselves, or feel overwhelmed trying to do so. Invite link here (please let me know if the link breaks!)

The way it works is simple: if you're planning to make an original post — posting art, for example — and don't know how to describe it, you can share the image there first with a request for a description, and someone will likely be able to volunteer one.

The clear upside here (other than being able to get multiple people's input, which is also nice) is that you can do this before making the Tumblr post. By having the description to include in your post from the start, you can guarantee that no inaccessible version of the post will be circulated.

You can also get opinions on whether a post needs to be tagged for flashing or eyestrain — just be able to spoiler tag the image or gif you're posting, if you think it might be a concern. (Also, refer here for info on how to word those tags.)

The server is very chill and focused on helping/answering questions, but if social anxiety is too much of a barrier to joining, or you can't use Discord for whatever reason, then you can instead do the following:

2. Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards

[Plain text: "Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards". End description.]

Myself and a lot of other people who describe posts on this site are extra happy to provide a description if OP asks for help with one! This does leave the post inaccessible at first, so to minimize the drawbacks, the best procedure for posting an image you can't fully describe would be as follows:

Create the tumblr post with the most bare-bones description you can manage, no matter how simple (something like "ID: fanart of X character from Y. End ID" or "ID: a watercolor painting. End ID," or literally whatever you can manage)

Use a tool like Google Lens or OCR to extract text if applicable and if you have the energy, even if the text isn't a full image description (ideally also double-check the transcriptions, because they're not always perfect)

Write in the body of the post that you'd appreciate a more detailed description in the notes!

Tag the post as "undescribed" and/or "no id" only if you feel your current, bare-bones description is missing out on a lot of important context

When you post it and someone provides an ID, edit the ID into the original post (don't use read mores, italics, or small text)

Remove the undescribed tag, if applicable. If you're posting original art, you can even replace it with a tag like "accessible art" for visibility!

And congrats! You now have a described post that more people will be able to appreciate, and you should certainly feel free to self-reblog to give a boost to the new version!

[flwrkisses]

boyfriend! heeseung.

doing these at random and actually having lots of fun writing them! — remember that leaving a like or a reblog shows me you're enjoying the content!

genre: fluff, established relationship. idol! heeseung x reader.

warnings: mentions of arguments, skinship and affections such as kissing.

❀˖° heeseung jay jake sunghoon sunoo jungwon ni-ki ..

- if heeseung likes someone he might be a little shy at first but once he gets to truly know you and get comfortable he grows so much more bold. so he starts taking his chances and shooting his shot, not really hiding that he likes you, hell he wants everyone to know he likes you.

- your first date was probably to a gotcha arcade where he could win you different things and show off a little. he thought it was the perfect first date because you could go home with plushies and other fun prizes and remember not only him but the fun time you had together. he was always thinking 3 steps ahead.

- because that date went so well, he ended up asking you out fairly quickly. which was kinda expected considering how many times he had begged you to go out with him before.

- personal space is nonexistent in this relationship, heeseung loves to be all over you all the time.

- he memories your favorite perfumes, soaps, creams, shampoo and conditioner because he had just fallen in love with your soft scent so much so that he continues buying you the same scents once he realizes you're running low.

- late night ramyeon dates, where you wear one of his extremely oversized hoodies and walk with him to the convenience store, sit and eat your ramyeon and gimbap and talk the night away.

- literally always flirting, heeseung lives to make you blush and all flustered. he can't help but chuckle each time you get shy when he flirts with you shamelessly.

- mornings are always lazy, especially when both of you can sleep in. there is not waking that man up.

- he's so jealous and possessive, like another man looks at you the wrong way it would get him off. his anger is never directed towards you though. he keeps telling you that you can wear whatever you want because he can fight.

- additionally with not caring how you dress or go out, he will protect you buy standing behind you if you're wearing shorts or a short skirt and you need to bend down, just so he can cover you with his body from anyone walking past.

- the above also goes for when you're sitting down, he would use his arm to cover your legs a bit, or he'd throw a blanket over your legs to make sure you're comfortable.

- kissing is always passionate, usually with giggles in between and smiles. it can never be just one peck, he always asks for more. he just can't get enough of you.

- expect his phone to be full of your pictures, so many of you off guard, candid, and just the selfies you've spammed onto his phone that he can't bring himself to delete.

- get ready for long gaming dates that could start off with you guys playing simple games like mario kart or mario party only to end up switching to much harder co-op games like overwatch or valorant.

- he loves to pull you onto his lap while he plays games, and press kisses onto your skin as you scroll through your phone. sometimes he even mutes his mic to talk to you for a while.

- one thing he will do is tease you if you're bad at the game, but he would also use the excuse of having to "teach" you how to play so he can pull you close.

- believe it or not, as much as he loves his games he loves you more. so the second he notices you getting a teeny bit annoyed over him focusing more on his game rather than you, he ends the match and turns off the game for you.

- when you guys play games together and win he says that he wins because he has the best duo partner in the world. you.

- he is always shamelessly checking you out. no matter what you're wearing or what you're doing.

- heeseung also finds so much comfort in you so when he's nervous, shy, anxious, scared he looks for you. if you're shorter than him he'd bend and curl into your body so you can hold him when he's feeling this way.

- when he calls you, he wants to talk for hours and when you finally tell him you have to go and hang up, he would beg you to stay 5 more minutes.

- in heeseung's eyes arguments and disagreements are natural and unavoidable at times. he listens to your side usually with his head hung low regardless of whos at fault or what the argument is about and would need some time to collect his thoughts and voice them.

- he hates going to bed angry or upset so he would probably stay up resolving the issue until you both are okay again and wrapped in each other's arms.

- your hair will always be played with regardless of length or texture. his hands are always in your hair, he mindlessly plays with it when you cuddle. its just his thing.

- on his phone he probably has your name as "mine ❤️" or something like that. but he would get so embarrassed when you see the contact name he has for you. it's cheesy but sweet.

- sometimes when you ask him too, he'll sing softly while you guys are about to drift off to sleep.

- he would even let you wash his face some nights after work when he's like super tired but most times he can't help himself from trying to steal a kiss from you with a soapy face.

- no matter what it is you want to do he's there supporting you 100 percent. he's your biggest support no matter what and he lets you know all the time that he's there for you.

- if you ever reject one of his kisses he would literally chase you around until you gave him a kiss. mans would not let you go free until he got what he wanted.

- sometimes he gets cocky and sits you down after he noticed you had a long day and tells you that you never have to work if you don't want to because he would work on supporting you. yeah, he's THAT in love.

- he loves singing your favorite songs to you at all times, especially when you're laying your head on his lap and he's playing with your hair.

-over all heeseung's just an overall he's a sweet, sometimes cocky and annoying boyfriend who loves getting a rise out of you.

©flwrkisses ; please do not copy, translate, repost and/or reuse my work without my permission. (2023)

₊˚♡ don't forget to like/reblog to let me know you enjoy this kind of content!

masterlist. — requests are open !

[whatbigotspost]

I’m gonna start coining tumblr specific cognitive biases and logical fallacy terms…here’s the first ones I’ve theorized so far. (I’m using “actor” here meaning “the person, acting out the fallacy or bias for us all to see.”)

1. The unique contribution fallacy—reading a post of over 10k notes and the actor thinks of something they surmise is very clever to add. The actor imagines themselves to be the first special unique soul to contribute this add, when OP has actually received this “clever” comment 5000 times of those 10,000 notes driving OP up the wall.

2. The whataboutism bias— reading a post on any given particular topic, and believing that OP should say every single thing that you could possibly say about that topic under said single post. The actor doesn’t know they have a personal agenda on the topic and expects OP would have that same bias to talk about the side of the given topic that correlates to the actor’s personal bias, instead of allowing OP to be somebody who just writes what they wanted to write. This often works in tandem with… 

3. The TLDR bias— seeing a post that is actually extremely long and thoroughly well written, often times with sources, numerous added threads of detail etc. but the actor doesn’t actually read the content of the FULL post. Then, in reblogging it or commenting on it, “adding” something that OP definitely originally said, and revealing oneself as somebody who doesn’t even read the detailed things that they re-blog or add on comments about.

3. The literal URL fallacy— not understanding the total chaos that is the Tumblr URL, in this fallacy the actor thinks that someone’s username is ALWAYS telling you exactly what the content of their blog might be. I’ll illustrate this one in like a totally random example way… Let’s say that you hypothetically made a blog that was all about calling out bigots back in the days of yore, the early twenty teens. And yet somehow, despite the fact that every other user around you seems to not be taken literally by their URLs, the actor decides that everything that you post is therefore bigotry…….even if what you’re posting is your own original content that you’re writing, calling out bigots. Too bad, so sad! Because in this fallacy, the actor is going to see you as what your URL says, literally, always.

4. The missed URL fallacy— this of course is the exact opposite of number three. It is where a blog has a very particular theme and format to it, that is the most important thing you can notice to understand the context of a post. So, again, just a random example here… But let’s just say that the intent of a blog is to always post submitted weird ass dreams people had, but the actor doesn’t realize this in their relogging and thinks that somebody is reporting a real life situation that was definitely, very specifically a wild fever dream.

5. The throw the baby out with the bathwater bias— a fan favorite among left leaning and social justice corners of the site, this bias is when the actor reads a post where somebody doesn’t use the most optimal, virtue signaling language for them personally, so the actor ignores the whole entire point of the post. It could be something as serious as and attention demanding as genocide, but somebody uses a word like “crazy” or “stupid” or “bitch” in it and so the actor’s worldview and general proclaimed values are casually tossed aside because the language that was used to deliver it was not “perfect.”

6. The choose your own reality bias—The actor reads a post and reblogs it, adding commentary that is responding to things that are definitely not said in the original post and definitely not anything in the realm of what OP was talking about. Close cousin to…

7. The this is definitely about me/self-own fallacy— this one is actually one of my favorites to spot out in the wild because it is SUCH a tell. It is like a slightly more specific version of the “choose your own reality bias” but this is when the actor reads a post and blogs it, adding commentary that is responding to things that are definitely not said in the original post as if OP is talking about them personally, and therefore revealing themselves as potentially shady or suspect in someway because why did they make it about them, if it’s not about them, you know?

8. The zombie post fallacy—in this one, the actor most likely does not have time stamps enabled on their dash because that isn’t something that happens here by default, and this site has a higher presence of zombie posts (by the way its designed and how it functions) than any other social media site I know. So when a zombie post from 2011 shambles across their dash in 2024, they react to that content as if it is completely new and relevant information or news or a situation to be dealt with in the modern era.

What needs added?

[seiwas]

omg i reached the tag limit i’m so sorry op ! but i must !! share !! just how much this fic !!! made me Feel Things !!!!!!

(cont from tag) <- so that line is so witty i snorted while reading it 😭 & this one too: “If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.”

there are so many close calls too!! with how everyone’s dropping hints and implying everything 🤧 they’re really so idiots in love 😭 & atsumu is so whipped and he knows it but isn’t saying it and it’s driving me insane !!!

and !!!! the many passes atsumu gives !! bc he thinks thats what he’s supposed to do !!! the right thing to do !!! give reader space 🤧 but it rlly just prolongs everything 😭 u kept the tension and held it so well 😭😭

“he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.” <- i love this line too 😭😭

how atsumu takes care of them when they’re drunk 🤧 & he’s so loverboy w how he’s acting but he still needs aran to lay it down 😭😭 & when reader touches his face !! it’s so tender !! i love that moment 🥺

“The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.” <- i rlly squealed out loud when i read this 😭

the dancing in the kitchen!! their sticking their tongues out!! their entire dynamic!! i love it so much!! there’s so much comfort and knowing and loving in it 🥺 and they r so goofy and silly w each other it’s so cute 🥺

the tension in the bathroom scene omg i felt siCK 😭 i love how u delved into atsumu’s thought process 😭 the panic !! the fear !!

“(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible? Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)” <- this bit omfg 😭😭 i ached!!! tbh everything u put in the parentheses were just 👌🏼😖 had to stop myself from reading to gather myself omg 😭

“Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.” <- this and the parallel to one at the end !!! i love it so much 😭

and this “because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.” is so true 😭

and this: “There’s no point being here without you.” my face rlly went 🥺

& the way my heart !!! rlly squeezed !! when reader opened the door to find atsumu there 🥺 and all they did was go on like they weren’t fighting bc the care is still there !!!! 😭 and i’m just aaaaaah

i’m sorry i rlly said so much ant this but i love it so much !!! and u wrote it so so so well op 🥺 i love the way you write !! and tell a story !! and i love the dialogues u come up with and the little details that u slip in that make everything so much richer !!! felt 1000x deeper !! & u’re so talented op!! for writing smth like this 😭 definitely one of my fave atsumu fics to date 😭 thank u so much for writing this aaaaaaahhh!!!

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

❛ what am i to you, atsumu? ❜

word count | 12.6k (12,607) genre | fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, college au ━ gn!reader

the question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. alternatively: miya atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

➞ warnings | alcohol consumption, mutual pining, denial of feelings!!! lots of it!! and with this denial comes some stupid decisions!!! ➞ warnings | ive actually like never been to the psychic before so if its inaccurate im so sorry ..... it’s not really a big part of the plot though so hopefully u can overlook it 😭

o. Desire

This is a scam, is Atsumu’s first thought when he takes a seat inside the tent and finds himself face-to-face with a crystal ball.

People like this are dangerous — his twin brother never lets anyone forget it. They take advantage of an individual’s fear of the unknown and they make money off it. It’s genius, because even the strongest people can become weak to something as mundane as self-proclaimed clairvoyants setting base near a college campus.

Atsumu supposes he’s no exception. Even if Bokuto was the one who forced him to do this in the first place.

“Hello,” the woman greets, her hair pinned into a tight bun. “You’re here for a reading?”

“Sure,” Atsumu huffs, shivering when the cold breeze sneaks into the tent. He really should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

When he looks up from the table, the woman gives him a smile. It’s analytical, as if all he needed to do was sit down for her to know everything about him. He fidgets in his seat, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze.

“So,” she says, clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “What is it that you desire most, boy?”

 “I’m sorry?”

“Your greatest desire,” she repeats patiently.

Atsumu blinks before tilting his head. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m sure you know,” she says. “Is it strength? Power? Love?”

All colour drains from Atsumu’s face. The psychic smiles wickedly.

Atsumu thinks this may be the end of him. He never liked it when people acted like they knew more about his intentions than he did, and it only took mere minutes before the woman figured him out.

His hand twitches. He would feel a lot better if you were here—

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue, “bingo.”

i. Strength

After a borderline homicidal game of rock, paper, scissors, Sakusa lands himself a new roommate.

Move-in day comes two weeks later and Atsumu sits in the lobby of the building, waiting for your car to pull into the parking lot.

He notes the time — it’s five minutes past 8:30, making you more than half an hour late — before grumbling under his breath and continuing to scroll through his feed. When Instagram notifies him that he’s all caught up, he exits the app and opens Twitter in hopes that something will be able to entertain him until you show up. He likes some tweets, retweets a few more, and terrorizes Suna before he grows bored at the lack of anything interesting on his timeline.

Another glance at the time. He scowls. It’s only been two minutes.

Atsumu debates asking Sakusa if he knows what’s happened to you. When he opens their message thread, he raises an eyebrow at how unbelievably one-sided their conversations are, but he decides that’s a problem for another day. Your absence is more important to Atsumu than Sakusa’s terrible conversational skills ever will be.

(He’ll bother Sakusa about it later).

He’s about to send a long string of emojis when an incredulous voice reaches his ears.

“Tsumu?”

He looks up and immediately pockets his phone with a grin. “You’re late.”

You adjust the box of donuts in your hands and squint at him as if his smile is as blinding as the sun. “I slept through my alarm. What the hell are you doing here?”

Atsumu gestures to his outfit. “What does it look like?”

You stare blankly.

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I told you last night I’d help you move in. How’d you forget? Am I that forgettable? You wound me, I—”

“Shut up,” you say, shifting your weight. Atsumu’s eyes flicker to the sticker on the box, and he tries his best not to frown when he notices you’ve written Sakusa’s name in calligraphy with a heart at the end. “Of course I remember you offering to help because I spent my entire night telling you it was fine.”

“You expect me to believe that you can bring all your shit in by yourself? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Thank you, Tsumu, I can always count on you to make me feel like I’ve been shot by Cupid’s arrow,” you quip, brushing past him to get to the elevator, and as if it’s second nature, he follows. “I can’t believe people walk around campus calling you sweet.”

“I never said you looked bad,” he says. “I think the dried drool on your chin is pretty cute, actually.”

“Whatever,” you hurriedly wipe your face. “Speaking of bad, what on Earth are you wearing?”

Atsumu knows full well you’re not complimenting him, but he decides to treat your comment as if you have. He beams, picking at the sweatpants you eye with disgust before walking into the elevator with you.

“It’s my mover outfit!”

“Your mover outfit,” you deadpan. “Disregarding whatever that means — those sweatpants are baggier than Kenma’s eyebags. And they do nothing for your ass.”

He smirks. “You were checking out my ass?”

You avoid eye contact, feigning indifference, but Atsumu’s known you for too long and immediately recognizes your fluster by the way you tug at the hem of your clothing.

“No,” you deny curtly, straightening your posture when the elevator doors open to show Sakusa’s floor. “It’s just hard not to notice when those sweats are ridiculously baggy. Seriously, are you trying to put something in there? I could fit a month’s worth of groceries in those.”

You’re walking swiftly, eager to get to your new apartment and end the conversation. The both of you are well aware that Atsumu’s more than capable of catching up with you, but he hangs back, preferring to watch you babble while he trails behind.

You clutch the donuts closer to your body as words tumble out of your mouth — a list of things that could fit in his sweats, including two jugs of milk and a family size pack of chips — and Atsumu can’t stop the lopsided smile from appearing on his face.

“Maybe a carton of eggs, too,” he suggests.

“Oh, I wouldn’t trust you with eggs,” you say sharply.

“Why not?”

“Are you really asking me that? Last month I lent you my blanket and you gave it back to me with a hole in it.”

“For the last time,” Atsumu begins, quickening so he’s side-by-side with you, “that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“…Alright.”

“Y/N,” he whines. “I’m serious! None of that was on me — I even bought you a new blanket! Would Samu have done that? I don’t think so—”

“Actually—”

“The point is,” Atsumu interrupts, throwing you a glare before continuing, “blame Samu. Whenever something bad happens, blame him. That’s what I always do.”

“Spoken like a true, responsible individual.”

“Hey!” he protests. “I’m responsible!”

You open your mouth to deny his claims, but the pout he plasters over his face is enough for you to give in. Too tired to give him something as golden as a verbal agreement, you opt for changing the subject. “Do you think Sakusa will like the donuts?”

Atsumu frowns. “Why does it matter? They’re donuts.”

You grow annoyed at his impertinence. “I want him to like me, you moron.”

His expression sours further. “He’s your friend.”

“And I won a game of rock, paper, scissors, so now I’m his roommate,” you remark. “There’s a difference between being friends with someone and living with them. I mean, would you want to live with Bokuto?”

Atsumu’s answer is swift. “Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you say, “I need us to get along.”

You stop in front of a door and begin searching your pockets for your key. There’s a pinch between your eyebrows, the box trembles as you struggle to balance it with one hand, and your clothes are a mess, but underneath the fluorescent light of the hallway, Atsumu can’t help but think you almost look angelic.

He shakes the thought away, squashes it beneath his foot until the remnants of it have been absorbed by the carpet.

“The last time I saw you this nervous was when you asked out that barista,” he muses.

You dig your hand into the breast pocket of your shirt and huff when you find nothing. “What are you implying?”

Atsumu stares pointedly at the sticker on the box. Your face morphs into one of horror.

“Are you dense?”

“Calligraphy, Y/N. I’ve never seen you write calligraphy in my entire life.”

“I was trying something out!”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

You smack him on the shoulder. “I was being thoughtful,” you grunt, softening when Atsumu winces and rubs the spot where you hit him. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Your eyes leave him for a millisecond, flickering to somewhere else on his face before returning his gaze once more. “Of course,” you say softly, “Besides, I—”

The door swings open.

“You’re loud,” Sakusa deadpans in the doorway. His eyes travel down to the donuts. “Are those for me?”

You hand them over to him. “Yeah, I didn’t know what you liked, so they’re all assorted.”

Sakusa hums in thanks before tilting his head at Atsumu. “Why’re you here?”

“To help them move in,” Atsumu grins, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it. “I know you’re going to the drycleaners, and I couldn’t let Y/N do this all by themselves.”

Sakusa shrugs and turns to go further into the apartment. “Sounds good to me. I’d rather not have to press those nasty elevator buttons multiple times just so I can come down and get your stuff,” he gives you the best apologetic look he can muster. “Have fun, though.”

Before you can go on a tangent about how Sakusa should be more welcoming, Atsumu pipes up, “Yeah, don’t worry! ‘S all in good hands,” he nudges you with his elbow. “Right? Your stuff can’t be that heavy.”

Atsumu, not for the first time and certainly not the last, stands corrected.

Not only is your stuff heavy, but there’s much more than he expected.

With each trip down to the parking lot, his muscles grow strained, and he feels the fatigue threaten to droop his eyelids shut. But, in the corner of his eyes, he sees your persistence to get this over and done with, and Atsumu decides it won’t hurt to push through.

His complaining and wailing can wait until later.

After you place the last box into your new bedroom, you turn to him while wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Thank you,” you say breathlessly.

He goes to tease you, to say that you owe him now, that you’ll be indebted to him for life.

But what comes out of his mouth instead is: “‘Course. Call me whenever you want, and I’ll be there.”

Atsumu calls it a housewarming gift. Sakusa says there is hardly anything warming about it.

It referring to the group of boys gathered in the living room — your friends on good days, the bane of your existence on all the others — with their limbs strewn about and their soda cans sitting too close to the edge of the coffee table. It’s an odd sight for Sakusa to have this many people over on a Thursday night, but Atsumu insisted, and he caught Sakusa on a good day when he asked if he could hold a movie night at the apartment to celebrate your new accommodations.

You’re sure Sakusa regrets it now. He sits in his armchair with a permanent scowl, swatting Hinata away when the boy reaches to fix the crease between Sakusa’s brows. If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.

He covers his fear with a grin, but out of the corner of his mouth, he says to you, “Help me.”

You snicker. “You’re on your own, dude.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What? But Bokuto calls you that, too!”

“Yeah, but it’s Bokuto.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Atsumu only tsks, forcibly ending the conversation by suggesting to the room that they should all play a game to decide who’ll prepare all the popcorn. A chorus of agreements is what he gets in response, along with someone complaining about how he should be spared due to his gruelling volleyball practice, and another person expressing his sympathies for the future loser.

Atsumu prepares the ladder game, and after he’s done, he looks at everyone with fiery hot intensity, an expression similar to one he wears during a match. “Remember,” he declares, “whoever loses can’t complain.”

Luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“What the hell!” he screeches once the reality of his defeat settles in.

Osamu, far too smug for Atsumu’s liking, quips, “I thought you said no complaining.”

The noise that leaves Atsumu’s mouth is something akin to a pathetic but animalistic growl. He goes to protest, even raising his hand to list off reasons why he’s been wronged — someone must’ve cheated, or maybe everyone in this room has a ruthless vendetta against him — but just as the words are about to leave his lips, his eyes land on you.

You challenge him to complain with a look, and he suddenly gets a much better idea.

“Y/N,” he says sweetly, growing pleased at your uneasiness. “As the host of this housewarming party, it’s only fair that you help me, too.”

“What?” you squawk, leaning forward as if you’ve misheard him. “But you were the one who suggested doing all of this! How is it now on me to help—”

“Well, he wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you,” Sakusa muses.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you taking his side? What happened to roommate solidarity?”

“You just made that up,” Sakusa replies. “Besides, this thing will go by faster if two people prepare the popcorn, and I don’t think Miya wants anyone else other than you.”

Atsumu shifts uncomfortably at the implication, and he involuntarily commits your surprised expression to memory.

(When he goes to sleep later that night, your surprise is all he sees against the darkness of his eyelids).

“Other than me—?”

“To make the popcorn,” Sakusa drawls matter-of-factly.

You blink. “Right.” You look at Atsumu, and he shrugs dumbly, unsure of how else to react to your sudden change in behaviour.

To him, you have always been easy to read, but right now, he’s not entirely sure if there’s a word for the expression on your face. He yearns to press a hand to your cheek to melt the malaise away, to be rid of it forever so he can see you smiling again.

Something in his chest twists.

“Right!” you repeat, more loudly this time, and startling the rest of your friends. You slap your hands on your lap before standing and grabbing Atsumu’s wrist to pull him away. “I guess I’m helping you make popcorn. You owe me one, Miya.”

Your skin is warmer than usual, threatening to burn him until your fingerprints are marked onto his skin.

(Behind him, Suna stage-whispers, “You are so whipped, Y/N.”)

Your touch disappears the moment you’ve both crossed the threshold into the kitchenette. Atsumu flexes his hand, trying to get rid of an urge in his veins he can’t quite explain.

“Hey,” you say casually, back turned to him as you dig through the cabinets for the popcorn packets. “Did you finish that essay for literature class?”

Atsumu awkwardly clears his throat and begins playing with the settings on the microwave. “The paper?”

“Yes, the paper,” you say. “The one I told you to start two weeks ago so you wouldn’t end up sending a half-assed essay two minutes before the deadline?”

“Why are you talking like you think I didn’t start it yet?”

“Because I know you, Tsumu,” you reply, shutting the cabinet with your elbow and ungracefully dropping the packets onto the counter beside him. “And I lost faith in your ability to listen to me a long time ago.”

“How rude. I always listen to you,” he sticks his nose in the air like a scorned, evil, cartoon antagonist, “I just don’t take all your suggestions. There’s a difference.”

“You make my life so much harder,” you huff, inputting a minute-thirty into the microwave. “I honestly think I lose ten years of my lifespan whenever you tell me you’ve gotten yourself into another dilemma.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m sure you only lose, like, three at most.”

“No, it’s definitely ten,” you say. “You worry me too much, Miya.”

The smile on Atsumu’s face, previously smug and confident, softens.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, jabbing a finger into his sternum. “The paper? It’s due tonight.”

He flicks your nose, snorting when you pull a face. “I sent it in this morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Don’t act so shocked!”

“Well, this is, like, the first time you’ve ever done something even remotely responsible, so—”

“I thought we both agreed I’m a generally responsible person.”

Your silence is enough of a response.

Atsumu gasps just as the microwave beeps, allowing you to ignore his stunned expression in order to begin preparing another bag of kernels.

“Give me one reason—”

“The blanket—”

“—that isn’t the blanket,” he says sourly. “That doesn’t count. I told you that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“Do you want a list? Because I have one.”

“Are you serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“Osamu and I have a Google Doc.”

Another gasp. You roll your eyes.

“Now you’re in kahoots with my brother? What’s next? Planning my downfall with Suna?”

“I’m sure he’s fine doing that himself without my help.”

He whines, stomping his foot when you only stare back in amusement. “Don’t be so unrepentant, Y/N!”

You dump the contents of the hot popcorn bags into a large bowl for everyone to share. “Unrepentant? Was that the word on your word-of-the-day calendar?”

“Shut up. You know only Kuroo has lame stuff like that,” Atsumu grumbles, throwing the last popcorn packet into the faulty brick of power you and Sakusa call a microwave. “I used it in my essay. Thesauruses are a godsend. It really came in handy when I was writing about the flower symbolism in the book. Y’know what’s even better, though? SparkNotes.”

You tilt your head, studying Atsumu with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh.”

“What d’you mean huh?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently. “I just didn’t think you’d choose that essay topic, that’s all.”

“It was the easiest one,” he states. You hum in agreement, but he can sense you falling into a state of pondering before it even happens, so he lightly pokes your shoulder in hopes it’ll be enough to keep you from drifting too far from his reach. “Why, what did you think I picked?”

He can tell you’re debating what to tell him, letting a few seconds pass before you give in. “I thought you’d do the one that centred more around…” you trail off, clenching and unclenching your jaw, “the love aspect of it all.”

He blinks. “Why?”

Childishly, you retort, “Why not?”

Atsumu licks his lips. “Well, you’re always telling me to write what I know. And I may not know a whole lot about flowers, but I know more about those than, y’know, love.”

Something passes over your face, the same thing he saw when Sakusa said something — implied something — in the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve had relationships, sure, but none that made me feel anything like— like that.”

You drum your fingers against the bowl. “None at all?”

“None at all.”

You click your tongue and stare at the microwave. Its buzz has become more prominent in your silence, a mocking hum hanging over the air as you contemplate and Atsumu stares, waiting impatiently for a word to slip past your lips.

But there’s nothing. Instead, the microwave beeps again, indicating that the last of the popcorn is ready.

“That’s good to know,” you say lightly. At least, that’s what you attempt, but you sound different, like a parasite has found solace in your vocal cords and fiddled with everything Atsumu’s familiar with.

“It is?”

“Yeah,” you nod, handing the bowl over to him. Popcorn threatens to spill but Atsumu can’t bring himself to care. “Hey, be careful. What, is it too heavy? Are you too weak to carry it?”

“It’s popcorn,” Atsumu rasps.

You eye him oddly, as if he’s the one whose behaviour should be examined under a microscope. “Don’t spill it everywhere. Sakusa’ll get pissed, and we’re already pushing it with this movie night thing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” you agree. “But if you need me—”

“I know,” he interjects.

Simple promises are often uttered during private moments between you and Atsumu — an oath to be there for the other, to stand by their side no matter what. The words soothe him when they’re said aloud; he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.

And despite the voice in his head taunting him about a secret he’s unaware of, he allows the promise to enchant him.

I’ll be there for you.

“Do you need help?”

Atsumu grunts, adjusting your arm around his neck as he opens the car door. “No, I’m fine.”

“Thanks for picking them up,” Aran says, voice loud above the frat house’s music, “I know you were tired from practice, but—”

“It’s fine. I probably would’ve killed you if you didn’t call me, anyway.”

“Osamu said you’d say that.”

Atsumu expertly brushes off the statement, gently ushering you into the passenger’s seat and putting your seatbelt on with gentle fingers. Behind him, Aran watches the movements with thoughtful eyes and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“The last time they got this drunk was at the fall festival last year,” he muses. “For your sake, I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“For your sake,” Atsumu echoes, turning to face Aran once the door’s been shut and he’s made sure you’re sleeping soundlessly with your head resting against the cold window. Atsumu stands pin-straight, his posture contrasting the way Aran stands opposite him, relaxed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What’s that mean?”

Aran laughs, like he’s unsure if this is a serious question. “Well, I mean… they’re always asking for you whenever they get drunk like this.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“That’s why you got here in record time, right?” Off Atsumu’s questioning gaze, Aran continues, “I called you five minutes ago, and your place is a fifteen-minute drive away. And you’re not in your pajamas, even though you said you’d change into them the moment you got home.”

“I was in the area,” Atsumu says weakly.

“Doing what?”

“Getting dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just get something delivered to your apartment?”

“Is it illegal to want to pick up the food myself?”

Aran raises his hands up in defence. “No, it’s not, but it’s also not illegal to say you knew this would happen,” he shrugs. “You knew they’d need you Atsumu, so you came. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Before Atsumu can force a response from his throat, Aran has already slipped back into the party, leaving Atsumu alone on the street. With an annoyed huff, he stomps to the driver’s side, muttering irked questions under his breath about what Aran could possibly mean. He opens the door with more aggression than necessary, only softening when he sees you stir underneath the jacket he’s draped over you to keep you warm.

He unlocks his phone when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

[00:30] Atsumu: are you still awake?

[00:48] Sakusa: Yes. Why?

Atsumu knows that your apartment’s farther from here than his, and he’s sure that by the time he arrives, Sakusa won’t answer the door because he’ll grow tired of Atsumu’s lack of response and go to bed.

The decision is made when he takes a right instead of a left, when he pulls into a parking lot that isn’t yours, when he carries your body up the stairwell and into his bed with ease.

Everything else comes as routine. He tucks the blanket under your chin, moves the glass of water so it’s too far for you to accidentally knock over in the morning, and leaves a change of clothes at the foot of the bed.

Atsumu likes routine. He likes the predictability of it all.

A groggy voice stops him from leaving the room.

“Tsumu?”

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching so he’s eye-level with you. “I hope you don’t mind I brought you back here.”

You blink sleepily at him, too inebriated and fatigued to acknowledge his words. “You’re a really good person, y’know,” you say languidly.

He smiles, amused. “Really?”

“Yeah. Thank you for picking me up.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

“It’s not.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine without me. Omi could’ve picked you up, couldn’t he? Samu could’ve, too.”

“I know, but you’re the one who always does,” you respond, nuzzling further into the pillow. “You’ve—you’ve helped me a lot.”

You shakily reach a hand to his face, playing with the strands of hair that fall to his forehead. He relaxes, eyelids growing heavy at the feeling of your featherlike touch against his cool skin.

“You’ve brightened up my life, I think,” your voice is muffled, but it rings in Atsumu’s ears clear as day, almost as loud as his quickening heart rate. “I appreciate you a lot more than you know.”

ii. Power

He watches with bated breath as the ball cuts through the air while gravity begins to pull Hinata back to Earth. Everything unfolds in slow motion; everything has faded into white noise.

With a slam, the volleyball connects with the ground, and it’s only when he’s pulled into a hug does the reverie shatter. Like being hauled out from underwater, the roars of the crowd flood his ears as Bokuto begins jumping on the balls of his feet and Hinata comes rushing over to them with a triumphant shout.

On the other side of Bokuto, Sakusa smiles, rolling his eyes fondly when Hinata and Bokuto begin making post-game plans to celebrate their victory. Atsumu, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically silent as he searches the bleachers with a cloudy look in his eyes.

He’s snapped out of it once again when Bokuto tugs on his wrist so they can go and listen to what their coach has to say.

Atsumu isn’t a stranger to winning — he used to get drunk on this sort of stuff, the exhilarating rush that shot through his veins after every successful game. He basks in the crowd’s excitement and admiration, because to be fawned over is the closest to love he’s ever been (if he could even call it that), but once the adrenaline cuts him off and he’s left alone in the locker room, it all fizzles out.

Something’s missing at the end of all this. Usually, the void in his chest is insignificant enough for him to brush off. However, today is different.

It’s abnormal for the power of the win to dwindle into nothingness only minutes after the game ends, but the blue moon has risen tonight, and now everything feels weird. The cheers aren’t enough to keep him from searching the gymnasium for a familiar face, and he itches to get to his phone in the locker room when he can’t find who he’s looking for.

“Why do you look like we’ve lost?” Bokuto asks. “C’mon, man! Smile! We just won! Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Atsumu grunts.

(But…)

But.

The adrenaline shoots through him again when a voice he knows all too well catches his attention over the noise.

“Hey!” you rush towards them, dishevelled. “Before you get mad, I know I missed the game, I took a nap and slept through it, fuck, I am never going to stay up late playing Fortnite with you again, Tsumu, you’ve ruined my sleep schedule, but—” you huff, trying to catch your breath as you hand Atsumu a bag, “I’m sorry that I didn’t come. Congrats on winning, I heard the shouts from down the street.”

Atsumu smiles and peers into the bag. “What is this?”

“Mochi,” you answer. “A celebratory gift for my favourite setter.”

“I’m the only setter you know.”

“Which is why you’re my favourite.”

Atsumu snorts but hugs the bag to his chest, like it’s his most prized possession and he’d drag it along to the grave with him. “Thank you.”

If someone were to ask Atsumu if he liked the pedestal he’s put on after a match, he’d say yes. Of course he does. He quite likes it on top of the world.

But you match his joyful smile with one of your own and Atsumu finds himself rethinking his answer. “Anytime.”

The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.

“You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Would you relax?” Sakusa snarls. “You’re in charge of us for a day. Get your head out of your ass.”

On the floor, Hinata lays like a starfish as he stares up at the ceiling, cheeks tainted a bright pink hue. “I think power’s gotten to your head.”

Atsumu waves him off. “I think this is the best practice we’ve ever had.”

Their captain had to run out five minutes into practice — relationship problems is what he grumbled to Atsumu before leaving him in charge without a second thought, much to the rest of the team’s dismay.

“I hope you’re never put it in charge again,” Bokuto complains before downing the rest of his water.

“Don’t be dramatic—”

“Do you know how gruelling this practice must be for Hinata to be tired?”

“Give us a break,” Hinata pleads, shifting his position so he’s on his knees. “Please. I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the month if you end our suffering.”

Atsumu pretends to ponder the offer and grows more amused as Hinata begins to twitch nervously. “Okay, fine,” he relents.

Hinata cries with glee, hugging Atsumu’s legs before pushing himself off the floor and rushing out of the gymnasium — whether it’s to refill his water bottle or hide until he’s found, Atsumu may never know. With a snort, Atsumu grabs his own bottle amongst the rest on the bench, promising Bokuto absentmindedly that he’ll go easy on them for the rest of the day.

“I want to have at least a little energy left for the party at Kuroo’s tonight,” Bokuto adds, his smile widening when Atsumu nods in agreement. “See, I knew you’d get it!”

Sakusa takes a seat on the bench. “Are you going to the party, Miya?”

“Yeah, Y/N’s forcing me to come with,” Atsumu says. “How about you?”

Bokuto answers for him. “I’m making him come!” he exclaims. “You’ll have so much fun, Omi, you don’t have to worry.”

Sakusa deadpans, “I’m only staying for five minutes.”

Bokuto waves off his iciness with a flippant hand. “I’ll convince you to stay longer.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Bokuto huffs. He turns away from Sakusa before he can continue to argue and focusses on Atsumu. “It’s good that you’re coming too, Tsum-Tsum! Maybe you can finally meet the guy Y/N’s going on a date with.”

Atsumu halts, hand tightening around his bottle. “What?”

“Some guy from their Psychology class asked them out a few days ago,” Bokuto says obliviously. “I think it was the night you picked them up? I don’t know. I think he was nice, though. Y/N probably already told you about it.”

You didn’t.

Atsumu forces a grin on his face. “Right, they did.”

Sakusa studies his expression with pinched eyebrows.

Atsumu’s cheeks hurt for the rest of practice, a consequence of the cheerful façade he’s plastered, but the pain subsides — if only for a moment — when he sees you outside the gymnasium, carrying your favourite boba drink in one hand, and his favourite in the other.

“Hey!” you greet, handing him the drink. “How was practice?”

“Awful,” Hinata mopes with a pout. “Your boyfriend here was running it like the navy.”

You frown. Atsumu blanches. “My boyfriend…?”

“Yeah!” Hinata slaps Atsumu on the back. “Him.”

All colour drains from your face. Your grip on your cup loosens for a split second before tightening it again in panic. You look from Hinata, the picture of innocence, to Atsumu, who only stares back, just as bewildered.

Hinata seems to take the hint as his eyes flicker between the two of you in confusion. “Sorry, I… I overheard Bokuto saying you were going on a date with someone, so I assumed—”

“Date?” you interrupt frantically, arms flapping to deny the words that have recklessly tumbled from Hinata’s mouth. “With who— with Atsumu? He’s not— we’re not— I’m not— we’re—”

“We’re friends,” Atsumu finishes, saving you from your stammering. You look at him gratefully, and he can only offer a weak smile in return. “I don’t know why you’d think we’re dating, Shoyo.”

“Sorry—”

“They’re going on a date with someone else.”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you—?”

“Oh, hey,” Sakusa says as he walks out of the doors. He tugs on the string of his mask to make sure it’s secure before nodding at you. “Did you stop by the grocery store yet?”

Atsumu’s words are long forgotten when realization engulfs your figure at the speed of light. “Oh, no! I took a nap and—”

“You really need to fix your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll have you know I slept four hours last night.”

“…That’s not a good thing.”

“It’s an hour more than usual.”

The genuine concern is evident in Sakusa’s eyes before he rubs his temples with a sigh. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go to the store before we head home, I need to buy more protein powder.”

“Ay, ay, captain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You snicker then turn to Atsumu with a smile he’d move mountains for. “I’ll see you later, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. “Don’t take too long to get ready.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say, patting his cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to drive me there and back.”

He finds himself involuntarily leaning into your touch. “Don’t mention it.”

Your touch lingers for a second too long before you salute him in goodbye and rush to follow Sakusa to your car. Atsumu watches as your figure gets smaller and smaller, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder and stick your tongue out when you catch him staring.

He flips you off and makes sure to stick his tongue out, too, in hopes that it’ll make you laugh loud enough for him to hear.

(He doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in Sakusa’s eyes, nor does he catch his name slipping past Sakusa’s lips).

(But he does notice you tilt your head, lost in thought, before you look at him again, attempting to figure him out despite the distance.

He thinks nothing of it).

Just after his 9am lecture, someone asks Atsumu out on a date.

She’s nice and easy on the eyes; a little timid, but he supposes that’s just the affect he has on people. Big man on campus is what he’s always referred to as, until they realize that he’s nothing if not a goofball off-court. Still, the girl — Miwa is what she said her name was — doesn’t know that yet, so Atsumu gives her the benefit of the doubt.

And he says yes.

At 11:00, the whole team has caught wind of his evening plans, and Sakusa texts him to tell him he’s an idiot. Atsumu frowns, asks why, but Sakusa doesn’t reply.

At 6:00, an hour before his date, he shows up on your doorstep with a bag of clothes and a tie loose around his neck. His left pant leg is tucked into his sock and the other is haphazardly cuffed; his hair is all over the place, sticking up at the back as the result of a hair-gel disaster.

You stare at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you need?”

“I’ve got a date,” he explains frantically. “I need your help.”

You hesitantly let him in.

At 6:15 is when the argument occurs. The reason why is something Atsumu can’t recall, only that it was something so small and insignificant that the argument shouldn’t have even happened in the first place. He thinks you may have been in a bad mood before he even arrived, but that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t talked to him in the past five hours.

Oh, right. And the power goes out at 6:45.

He texts Miwa to cancel, promising to reschedule on a day where they won’t be talking to each other in the dark, but his phone dies before he gets a response. With a shrug, he tosses it onto the coffee table and makes a mental note to charge it as soon as the power comes back on, knowing full well that he’ll forget the reminder the second he makes it.

He should feel more guilty about the fact that he cares more about your absence than his postponed date.

Atsumu stares at your door for far too long before deciding that he’ll apologize to you — for what, he doesn’t know, but apologize first, ask questions later is his motto — once you’ve left your room. He’ll grovel and get on his knees and even humiliate himself if he has to, as long as it gets you to talk to him again, because God knows he’ll never survive this outage by himself.

(Also, you’re his best friend, and — Atsumu has never told anybody this — the last time you gave him the silent treatment, his chest physically hurt from not speaking to you that he vowed to never anger you again).

It’s 11:35, and you still haven’t left your room.

For the past few hours, you’ve been watching Netflix without headphones to torture a bored Atsumu, but the noises stopped about ten minutes ago, meaning your phone must’ve died too, so it’s only a matter of time before you leave your room in hopes of finding something to do.

Atsumu’s almost giddy at the thought.

At 11:50, he makes his move.

He hears the creaking of your door and your socked feet softly padding in the hallway. Atsumu’s always tried going to sleep early so he can hit the gym before it gets too busy the next morning, so you must’ve waited the latest you could bear with the assumption that he had fallen asleep on the couch.

Atsumu tiptoes to the end of the hallway, teeth bright compared to the darkness of the apartment, and his grin only widens when you finally see him.

You blink before scoffing, brushing past him to enter the kitchenette.

“Y/N,” he says, attempting to be stern but it comes off as a whine in his desperation. “Look at me.” You spare him a glance. Atsumu deems that’s good enough. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

He watches you open a cupboard and fill your glass with water. The seconds that pass by are agonizingly slow and Atsumu shifts uncomfortably when the silence drags on.

Finally, you look at him, unamused, and say, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Uh…”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to make your way back to your room.

“Wait! Wait,” Atsumu shouts, rushing over to block the exit. His eyes dart all over the kitchen in hopes the walls will have the answer to your question. You tap your foot impatiently, and it’s only when you go to open your mouth to tell him to move that he blurts out, “I’m sorry for eating the rest of your chocolate cake.”

You look at him incredulously. “That was you?”

“Yeah, I— wait, you’re not mad about that?”

“I am now!” you huff, using an arm to try and shove him out of the way, but he catches your wrist.

“Then I don’t get it!” he groans. “What did I do?”

You give him a once-over. “Well, what didn’t you do?”

“This is about the outfit?”

“You’ve cuffed your slacks, Tsumu. They’re cuffed. No sane person cuffs their slacks.”

He struggles to wrap his head around your response. “You’re mad,” he repeats, then gestures to his outfit confusedly, “about what I’m wearing.”

You seem to realize just how ridiculous it sounds uttered out loud, because you pout. “Not just that.”

“Then what else?”

You stumble over your words before you coherently state, “You’re going on a date.”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“You’re going on a date,” you say again when it’s obvious he’s not catching on to what you mean. When all Atsumu can manage is a perplexed sound, you add frustratedly, “You’re going on a date, which I don’t understand, since Sakusa told me that I didn’t need to worry anymore, but I guess he’s wrong because you came here asking for my help with looking nice on your night out with Miwa and—”

“Wait,” Atsumu interrupts, still puzzled. “What did Sakusa tell you?”

“He told me not to worry.”

“Worry about what?”

That snaps you out of it.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. Then, you cross your arms over your chest, muttering out a response with feigned nonchalance, “Whatever.”

Atsumu protests, “Hey, I—”

“Where were you even going to take her?” you swiftly change the subject, and Atsumu decides that he’ll let it go — that’s what he’s been doing for a while, anyway, and another day really couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Dancing,” he says.

“Dancing?”

“Yes,” he responds, relaxing at the sight of your amusement. “I searched up unique date ideas and Google told me to take her dancing.”

“You should’ve just taken her to dinner,” you say. “Because you can’t dance.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“You were born with two left feet.”

“Quit lying, you’re only saying that because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m only telling you the truth!”

“I’m a good dancer!”

“You really aren’t. I thought that was established two weeks ago when we were playing Just Dance and you knocked over Aran’s vase.”

“That says nothing about my ability to—”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“I’m serious,” he says, stretching his hand out for you to take.

You look at his palm and back up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in any way, shape, or form.”

“We don’t even have music—”

“I’ll sing,” he shakes his hand. “C’mon, hurry up, my arm’s getting tired.”

Without a second thought, you interlace your fingers with his as he whisks you around the kitchen, his laugh loud when you yelp at his fast movements. He places his other hand on the small of your back to keep you from slipping on the tile as he leans to whisper into your ear.

“Any song requests?”

“None. You’re an awful singer,” you retort, bristling at the warmth of his breath.

“So, what are you saying? You’d rather waltz in silence?”

“Yes. And I wouldn’t even call this waltzing. We’re just sliding around the kitchen.”

“We’re waltzing,” Atsumu says firmly, daring you to argue. You only sigh, letting him pull you closer as you two clumsily move around the room. He sings your favourite song despite your insistence for him not to, humming the parts he doesn’t know and doing his best to hit every note.

You laugh into his chest, and he makes sure the sound is trapped in his ribcage so he’ll never have to go a day without it.

When the song reaches its end, you place your head on his shoulder, your breath piercing through his blazer and skin. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you,” you whisper despite the quiet, as if making your voice any louder will shatter the atmosphere. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

“It’s not, but thanks for trying to make me feel better,” you say timidly. “I guess I just got my hopes up.”

Atsumu tries to get the information out of you again, the very thing that’s been bothering you — and, as a result, him — for weeks. “About what?”

Your fingers tighten around his. “Nothing,” you answer, and if you notice just how much his posture deflates then you say nothing of it. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. “We can stay for as long as you want.”

iii. Love

“You’re gonna get it in my eye!”

“Then stay still!”

“Just promise not to poke me.”

“I’ve already promised five times.”

“Then promise again!”

“Tsumu—” you sigh, slumping your shoulders as you meet his defiant gaze. “I promise I won’t get anything into your eyes or your mouth or your nostrils. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

You groan. “We’ve been over this millions of times—”

“Sue me for thinking you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you—”

“Sakusa got into my head,” he explains for the umpteenth time that evening, “he keeps on saying I’ve done something wrong, but he won’t tell me what, and he keeps looking at me as if I’ve committed a felony. His face keeps me up at night, it’s the reason why I’ve had so many nightmares recently—”

“Sakusa’s being a nuisance. Trust me, you haven’t done anything wrong,” you assure, your voice echoing off the walls of your tiny bathroom. “You have nothing to worry about, so stop acting like I’m trying to kill you with this face mask.”

He stares pointedly at the tub sitting next to you on the sink. “It’s scarily green,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Like, it’s Hulk-green. Nothing should be that green.”

“If you’re implying it’s poisonous, it’s not.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, spreading the mask across his cheeks, ignoring his murmured whines about how cold it feels on his skin. “You weren’t acting like this last time.”

“You were using a different face mask last time,” he rebuts. “I liked the other one better than this one.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind the next time I go to the store,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll even take you with me, so you can choose the face mask. It’ll save me from your complaining in the future.”

“You love my complaining,” he replies quickly. “But I really should. I’d make your grocery trips so much more fun.”

“You’d get us kick out.”

“Would not!” Atsumu scoffs when you don’t even bother to hide your unconvinced mien and places his hands on either side of the marble countertop, trapping you against him and the sink. “I’ll prove it this weekend.”

You shake your head. “I’m not going this weekend. The fall festival is on Saturday, remember? I’m holding off spending money this week so I can buy a ton of cotton candy without feeling guilty.”

“Really?” he snorts. “You’re not gonna get wasted this year?”

“Definitely not. Last year was a nightmare.”

“You don’t even remember what happened.”

“Exactly,” you say, smoothing out the mask. “And you’re always taking care of me when I’m drunk, it makes me feel bad.”

Despite his proximity, you don’t seem to feel the intensity of his stare. His demeanour has softened in the past five minutes, smiling warmly at the pinch between your brows and the way your lips have twisted into a focussed frown.

This has happened countless times before — on all the other self-care nights, Atsumu finds himself in the four walls of your bathroom, free to admire you all he wants without the company of his friends and their teasing remarks. Though he’d never admit it, he prefers the quiet, because here, the both of you aren’t brushing off comments made about your relationship; here, it’s just you and him, pressed against the bathroom sink, worries left behind on the other side of the door.

Here, it’s so peaceful that Atsumu believes, for a few short moments, that everything will be okay.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says breathily, dreading the moment when you finish and he’s forced to pull away. “I like taking care of you.”

“You’re required to do it because we’re friends.”

“No, I like doing it,” he says again, ingraining the statement into your brain so it’ll stay there forever. “You don’t see me letting Bokuto or Hinata — hell, even Suna, stay over at my apartment and sleep in my bed.”

You pause your movements, eyes flickering to his. “What does that make me then?”

“Huh?”

“Bokuto, Hinata, and Suna are your friends, but you don’t pick them up from parties and let them say the night at your place.”

“Well, that’s cause I can’t be bothered most of the time, since they’re usually going to on-campus parties and my place is so far from—”

“But you picked me up a few nights ago,” you interrupt, and Atsumu is drawn to the determination in your irises more than he wants to admit. “And a couple weeks ago too, I think. You’ve been picking me up before I even moved in with Sakusa, and my old place was thirty minutes away.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

“What am I to you, Atsumu?”

He grips the countertop so tightly his knuckles are as white as the marble. His heart drums against his ribcage, so loud in the cavity of his chest that he wonders if you can hear it too.

“You’re my friend.”

“Like Bokuto? Or Hinata, or Su—?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffs. Comparing yourself to them is absurd. “It’s diff— you’re different.”

“Different how?”

Suddenly, everything feels stuffy. Tension floods the room until he’s neck-deep in it and drowning, all while you stare up at him, awaiting an answer.

“I—”

Someone knocks loudly on the door.

“Hey!” Bokuto. “Is someone in here?”

You don’t answer. The ball is in Atsumu’s court.

There’s an answer that lingers in his mind, one that he wants to give you despite the risk that it could destroy everything he’s ever known. But as his hesitation grows, the ring buoy that is Bokuto’s voice becomes more tempting — something to save him from this situation where he’s flailing in hope and what-ifs. Something to save him from your want and his dread and all the other sharp objects that could slice your friendship in two.

(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible?

Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)

“We’ll be right out,” he responds, and just as he replies, you pull away from him in defeat.

Everything in his body tightens.

You turn to wash your hands. Through the mirror, he can see you blink rapidly and clench your jaw.

When he finally goes to exit, Bokuto stands impatiently on the other side. His eyebrows rise when he spots the hairband keeping Atsumu’s blond strands out of his face.

“That’s cute,” Bokuto coos, poking at the heart that sticks out from the material.

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, adjusting the band and letting his fingers brush against the plush heart. “It’s Y/N’s.”

The sun had set a long time ago.

In its absence is the moon, its light barely sufficient to lead you and Atsumu home — home being his apartment, but you’ve been there so much it might as well be your own. It’s alright, though, he thinks; your arm is interlinked with his, and that’s all he’ll ever need to guide him.

Your hips bump his as you both walk down the sidewalk, the air a melody of your laughs as he retells a childhood story about him and Osamu. You fail to refrain the teasing comments that fall from your lips about how he’s always been a troublemaker, long before you ever met him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he’d said a couple minutes ago. “Since I’m your favourite and everything.”

You smile, and every time you do so, the more he believes that the bathroom incident has been forgotten.

But Atsumu’s not stupid. He senses your discomfort — it’s miniscule, but it’s there, and deep down he knows it’s all because of what happened last night.

Every Tuesday, you wait for his evening lecture to finish before you both walk back to his place to watch a movie. Some nights you leave before the clock strikes ten, most nights you stay over. It’s a routine that’s been implemented since he first met you, and never once has it ever felt tense.

Atsumu itches to fix it.

“Hey,” he pipes up, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable lulls in conversation. “You never told me how your date went.”

“My date?”

“Yeah. Bokuto says some guy from your Psychology class asked you out.”

“What?”

“At the party.”

You crinkle your nose in thought before a light bulb goes off in your head. “Are you talking about Kuroo?”

Atsumu’s eyes may as well bulge out of the sockets with how much they’ve widened. “Kuroo asked you out?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Well, yes. But he didn’t mean it. He only did it to get someone to stop bothering him.”

Atsumu frowns. “Then why did Bokuto say—?”

“Bokuto was drunk,” you snicker. “Plus, you know how much of a lightweight he is, and Hinata just kept on giving him drinks, so you can imagine how that went.”

“Not good, probably.”

“Nope,” you say. “Just imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong then double it.”

“Did he puke on Akaashi?”

“Yeah, and on Kuroo too.”

“See, that’s why I never let him stay the night.”

Your smile wavers and he pinches himself for saying anything in the first place.

“That’s probably the only good idea you’ve ever had,” you eventually say, but your voice is weaker than you intend it to be.

Atsumu can’t find the energy to argue.

He allows himself to be pulled down the street, your footsteps hasty compared to how he tries to drag his feet along the cement. Atsumu assumes you want to get this night over with, to spend only an hour — maybe two — with him before bidding goodbye, and the thought causes an ugly feeling to root itself into the pit of his stomach.

The wind whistles in warning. He should’ve expected something like this.

All good things come to an end is something he’s heard far too many times to count, but Atsumu is nothing if not an optimist, and even so, he never thought a saying such as that could ever apply to his friendship with you. Despite the hardships, the two of you have always pulled through.

But the clouds begin to drift over the moon, hindering its light, and his stomach churns at what’s to come.

Your voice, disguised as a remedy to soothe his unease, carries him forward. “Listen, I think I’ll head home after the movie.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight, y’know?”

“You can sleep in mine,” he suggests, his tone bordering on a plea. You always sleep in mine. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s okay, Tsumu,” you reply. “You’re probably tired of seeing me all the time, anyway.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

You give him a tight smile in response.

Atsumu’s always believed he was good with words. His voice has failed him before, sure, and it’s not like it’s a secret that sometimes his carelessness lands him in undesirable situations, but he’s usually so quick on his feet. He knows what to say, and if he doesn’t, he can crank up the charm until everyone in the vicinity begins to suffocate on his charisma.

Miya Atsumu is rarely ever speechless.

But then you started acting different, and suddenly he couldn’t decipher your expressions or predict your every move. You would dance with him in the kitchen and tenderly apply skincare products on his face, but no matter how much he pulled you close, you would drift further away. You’d open up before brushing everything off as if he had nothing to worry about.

It's like you haven’t been paying attention at all. If it involved you, Atsumu would always worry.

The question slips out of his mouth too quickly for him to control. “Are you ever gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What?”

He stops walking, and as a result, so do you. “Something’s been bothering you,” he says hoarsely. “And I was waiting it out because I thought you’d tell me, but… I feel like you never will.”

You lick your lips — to stall, he thinks, but doing so only spares you a second. “Do you have any guesses?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not an idiot,” you sigh. “You must have some idea.”

(And, perhaps, maybe a small part of him does. You’re his best friend, and he is yours, and you each earned that title by knowing the other like the moon knows the stars, like the stars know the sky, like the sky knows the sun.

He knows, you know he does. But this is irresponsible. It threatens everything).

“I don’t,” he lies.

“Atsumu,” you exhale, as if he’s entangled in your system, “do you really need me to say it?”

He doesn’t answer. You continue, anyway.

Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.

This was never part of the routine.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you murmur when he doesn’t speak. His fingers twitch, screaming at him to reach out for you as soon as you pull away. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Y/N—”

“Just let me go,” you say — you beg. “Please.”

His body screams, his nerves flare, but the messenger between his spinal cord and his brain fails to relay the message that he should do everything in his power to prevent you from leaving.

“Okay,” he responds. His voice sounds like it hasn’t been in use for years, tainted with defeat.

You turn to leave, and for the first time since you’ve met him, Atsumu doesn’t follow.

Atsumu’s moody, he has been for a while, and it doesn’t take long for everyone to realize it’s because of you.

Or, more specifically, the absence of you.

You’ve been spending more time by yourself than you have been with anyone else, cooped up in the safety of your bedroom and listening to — according to Sakusa — music that ranges from soft, heartbroken ballads, to hardcore fuck-you anthems. The lack of your presence is strange; you’ve always been a constant in Atsumu’s life, and to live without it leaves a lingering emptiness in his chest.

He'll catch glimpses of you sometimes on campus, and he feels, what he assumes to be, the same emotion people feel when they claim they’ve spotted Bigfoot.

For a moment, everything feels a little more bearable.

But then you disappear, leaving sorrow in your wake, and reality washes over him like an ice-cold bucket of water.

His moping is how he ends up tagging along with Bokuto and Hinata at the fall festival, trailing after them like an upset puppy while they frolic down the streets, gawking at all the stands and taste-testing every snack they come across. The plan was to have them cheer him up, to make him smile even if it’s only for a second, because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.

Hinata offers him some funnel cake and Atsumu absentmindedly murmurs about how it’s your favourite. They all buy friendship bracelets and Atsumu buys one for you too because he knows how much you’d want one. They all clamber onto the carousel and Atsumu wonders if you’d fall off if you rode the horse.

Bokuto and Hinata get tired of it all eventually.

“He’s hopeless,” Bokuto cries when they reunite with Suna and Osamu. “He won’t stop whining.”

Atsumu opts for standing on his toes to look over the crowd in hopes of finding you instead of replying to his friend. His eyes drift first to the ring toss, then to the man selling cotton candy, then to the spinning teacups.

Nothing.

Osamu says something that finally catches his brother’s attention. “Well, Y/N’s not coming,” he waves his phone in the air, which is open on his message thread with you. “Said they were busy.”

Hinata huffs. “They’re only saying that cause Tsumu’s here.”

Bokuto slaps his arm. “Shoyo!”

“What? It’s true!” he exclaims defensively. “You know how they’re always on top of their assignments, I doubt they’re doing anything but watching TV and—”

“Yeah, but still, don’t say that! Isn’t Tsum-Tsum heartbroken enough?”

“I am not heartbroken,” Atsumu snarls.

Suna gives him a look. “Well…”

“I’m not!” he flails, frantically gesturing to himself to show that he’s perfectly fine. “I mean, yeah, am I a little upset? Yes. But heartbroken? You guys are just saying anything at this point, like—”

Osamu interrupts him before he can continue rambling and digging himself into a bigger hole. “What did you even do, anyway?”

The Miya twins are notorious on campus for their bickering, but Atsumu thought that in this situation, at least his own brother would be on his side. “What makes you think this is all my fault?”

Osamu raises an eyebrow, mocking and patronizing. “Well, for one—”

“If anything,” Atsumu continues, hurriedly cutting him off, “I should be the one avoiding them. Not that I’d want to, I’d never want to, obviously, but if we were getting technical then they should be the one worrying about me and not the other way around.”

Hinata speaks, mouth full of the last of his funnel cake. “Who says they don’t worry about you?”

“I— wait, what?”

“They’re always asking me and Shoyo about how you’re doing,” Bokuto chirps. “How screwed up could things be that you won’t talk to each other?”

Atsumu inhales, and he feels the world begin to collapse into him. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to think, unsure if it’s fair of him to reach for his phone and hope you’ll answer his calls. He knows why the two of you have found yourselves here, standing on opposite sides of a field of regret and hurt. He knows, that in his attempt to dodge change, he blew something up in the process.

Suna tilts his head in question. “Atsumu. What happened?”

Atsumu exhales. “They told me that—” the words lodge themselves in his throat, unwilling to leave.

But they all understand.

“Huh,” Suna hums. “Didn’t think they had it in them.”

“What did you reply with?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu prepares himself for their rage. “Nothing.”

He’s met with silence. Then, incredulously, Suna asks, “Are you stupid?”

Osamu answers for him. “Chronically so.”

Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to respond to the jab, and the severity of the situation significantly increases.

Hinata bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “I think he’s broken.”

Bokuto leans forward to study Atsumu’s expression as much as he can before the latter waves him off. With a frown, Bokuto steps back and looks around the grounds, hoping to find something that’ll cheer Atsumu up and make tonight not a complete bust.

A tent, flashy and sparkly and enchanting, lures him in.

Osamu looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can utter a word, Bokuto tugs on Atsumu’s sleeve and drags him to the tent, ignoring his protests. “I have an idea,” he says reassuringly, but it does nothing to calm his friend. “Trust me on this.”

Atsumu snatches his arm back and rubs it as if Bokuto’s harmed him. He cranes his neck around to look at the sign just outside the tent, and scowls at the pink and yellow doodles on the chalkboard.

“This is a psychic.”

Bokuto nods vigorously. “Yes.”

“Your idea of cheering me up is having me scammed?”

Bokuto pouts. “You love stuff like this.”

He’s not wrong. If it were any other day, this place would be Atsumu’s first stop. He’d be the one begging people to join him despite the fact that he knows the consequences involve a dent in his bank account, but today, predictions of his future are the last thing on his mind. Today, convincing people to get their fortune read is the least of his desires, because you aren’t trying to convince people with him.

There’s no point being here without you.

Atsumu moves to get out of line.

“Hey, dude,” Bokuto whines and holds onto his arm to keep him in place. “Just give it a try. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Boku—”

“It’ll be fun!” he says cheerily. “Maybe it’ll give you some insight on how to apologize to Y/N.”

Atsumu wants nothing more than to move — to leave — but Bokuto mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes long before he could talk, and the moment he flashes them Atsumu realizes he has no other choice but to stay.

When he steps into the tent, the atmosphere changes.

He tugs on the sleeves of his windbreaker when the autumn air threatens to pierce his skin, and reluctantly sits down on the chair across from the psychic. She eyes his every move, trying to figure out what type of customer he might be — someone who’s just doing this for fun, or someone who’s going through a rough patch, or someone who needs a stranger to light the path they need to walk down.

Atsumu fidgets in his seat.

“You’re here for a reading?”

A shrug and feigned indifference are what she receives as an answer. “Sure.”

His mask of nonchalance begins to slip when the reading starts, growing restless as he checks the time on his watch and calculating the probability of you still being awake. He glances over his shoulder, praying to whichever deity who’ll listen that Bokuto will come in and drag him out once he’s realized that this is the last thing Atsumu wants.

You are not here, and his body stings whenever the reminder worms its way into his mind.

His uneasiness must amuse the psychic, because when he finally looks back at her, she’s grinning, knotting his stomach in worry.

She asks him a dreadful question, made of nuts and bolts and things that rub salt in the wound of his heart.

What is it that you desire most, boy?

Atsumu freezes, plastering a confused smile on his face. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m sure you know. Is it strength?”

Definitely not, Atsumu wants to say. He’s more than capable enough to lift heavy boxes, he doesn’t have to take multiple trips to move things from point A to point B, he doesn’t struggle carrying his friends’ slump and inebriated bodies into a bed.

Atsumu is strong. He’s proved it during his frequent trips to the gym and by winning arm-wrestling contests. He wears the trait like a badge of honour, a reminder.

He does not need any more physical strength.

He checks his watch and wonders if you’ve brushed your teeth and dragged yourself to bed.

The psychic pushes. “Power?”

Atsumu briefly shakes his head, a movement so miniscule it’s a surprise the woman catches it.

It used to be such a thrill, the popularity that came with his volleyball reign. He used to ride that horse and sit in that throne with pride, he let the excitement course through him and, for a while, let himself believe the squeals that came with victory was interchangeable with love.

But power does not compare. He was foolish to believe nothing could beat the rush that came with the admiration — the shouts of his name in the bleachers, the ever-growing follower count, the people confessing their infatuation whenever they caught him alone.

They do not know who he is underneath the volleyball uniform. They don’t know that he likes to go to the diner after games and order a strawberry milkshake, or that his bottom drawer is filled to the brim with spare clothes for you, or that his favourite nights are spent with you applying a face mask to his skin.

They will never know him as much as you do.

The psychic leans forward. “Love?”

Atsumu clenches his jaw. Yes, would be the short answer, but to say that without an explanation would mean to lie, and he’s never been a good liar. Because Atsumu’s always been loved — not by the crowds or the student body — but by his friends, his family, you.

You gave your heart to him, and he noticed too late that the bleeding organ resided in the palm of his hand, cracked and yearning and brave. And after he realized this, he selfishly craved for more, even though he knew it scared him. He has been in relationships before, but none of them crossed the threshold of what truly mattered — the intimate conversations, the dances in the kitchen at midnight, the confessions murmured under the duvet.

So, perhaps, yes, Atsumu desires love, but the one thing he supposes he wants more is courage.

The psychic smiles. “Ah. Bingo. So—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu whips his head around to find Sakusa standing at the entrance, skillfully ignoring the protests behind him to get in line and wait his turn. Sakusa raises an eyebrow at the situation Atsumu’s found himself in, but saves him from his judgement to state, “Bokuto told me you were in here.”

“Excuse me,” the woman chirps. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“If you think a scam is what’ll solve your problems, then you’re stupider than I thought,” Sakusa says.

Atsumu sighs. “You came here just to tell me that?”

“Well, yeah,” Sakusa shrugs. “There’s a simpler solution to all of this.”

“Okay, well—”

“Talk to them,” Sakusa interrupts, exhausted. “Before they give up.”

Atsumu kisses his teeth, changing his position in his chair so he’s fully facing Sakusa. “Since when were you the type to give advice?”

Sakusa ignores his retort with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“I have never seen you cower before, Miya,” Sakusa says, and the words are like needles on his skin. “Don’t let the first time you do so be now.”

Atsumu inhales shakily. “I don’t—”

“They got Hinge a few days ago,” Sakusa deadpans. Atsumu stiffens. “Don’t lose to some hack they found on a dating app.”

Atsumu looks from his friend to the clairvoyant before flashing her a sheepish smile and shooting clumsily out of his chair. The words that tumble from his mouth are barely coherent, and the last thing he hears before he exits the tent is Sakusa mumbling moron under his breath.

The journey from the festival to your apartment is a blur. He vaguely recalls running past his friends and returning their questioning shouts with a wave of his hand and getting angry at least two cars who cut him on the road, before he ends up in front of your door, nose tinged red from the cold.

His knocks are insistent.

“I’m coming, God, be patient,” he hears you say before you open the door to see him, and your annoyance is wiped away in seconds.

“Hi,” he says, out of breath from running up three flights of stairs after he got impatient waiting for the elevator. His eyes land on the blanket you’ve wrapped over your shoulders, and his lips quirk up at the familiar pattern. “Didn’t I get you that?”

You tug on the material defensively. “What are you doing here?” you ask. “And what the hell are you wearing? Did you not look at the weather before you left the house? It’s freezing outside, you idiot, you should be wearing a thicker jacket. And your face is so red! And your hands! They’re gonna get all dry if you don’t wear gloves! How many times do I have to tell you to dress for the weather otherwise you’ll get sick and…”

Atsumu rasps, “And?”

You gulp, taking a step back to distance yourself. “And you shouldn’t be here,” you say, sending a knife to his chest. “I thought you were at the festival.”

“That’s why you didn’t come,” he concludes. “Because I was there.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” you snap. “I told you I loved you and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” you bark. “My point still stands. You shouldn’t be here.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Then why are you?”

Eight letters are whispered into the darkness of the entryway, and the world is thrown off-balance.

“I love you,” he says, surprising himself with just how easy the words escape after he lets them, “and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your lips part in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I should’ve told you sooner, but I— I was scared—”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “Love conquers all, I guess. My fear included.”

“You came all the way here to tell me that?”

He risks a step towards you and his heart flutters when you don’t move away. “I ran out of a psychic’s tent, too.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. “That’s not important right now.”

“It sounds pretty important, I mean, you mentioned it and everything.”

“It’s not.”

“What exactly is more important than that?”

“Your forgiveness, actually.”

You huff. “Believe it or not, forgiveness doesn’t come so easily, Atsumu.”

“Can I kiss you, then?” he questions innocently, placing a hand against your cheek. “Will you take that as an apology?”

You still, licking your lips as you try to maintain your defiant stance. “…That won’t work every time you make me mad, you know.”

He tries his best not to smirk. “Is that a yes?”

“I hate you.”

He lets his lips hover over yours, and he’s not sure if the loud heartbeat ringing in his ears is his or yours (or maybe a mixture of both). “Is that yes?” he asks again, searching your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

Your eyes flicker to his mouth and then you mumble, “Yes.”

Atsumu pinches himself before capturing his lips with yours, eager and desperate, to kiss you with enough pent-up want and need to cause you to stumble. He’s gentle in the way he cradles your face, as if the world has found itself in his hands, still beautiful despite how much he’s hurt it.

He’ll make up for hurting you later, but for now he’ll allow himself to be selfish.

I love you, he whispers into your mouth, and you capture the confession with your own and let it live in your beating heart.

I love you, he whispers into your neck as you both stumble into the kitchen, making sure to tattoo the words into your skin so you’ll never forget.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time as the blanket covers you both and he’s sure you’ve lulled to sleep with your ear against his chest and his thumb drawing hearts on your shoulder, “so, so much.”

Slumber takes over you both, blanketing your smiling figures with hope and love.

© fushisagi, 2023. do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[agustdiv1ne]

in no particular order, here are my favorite fics that i've read this year!! please show a lot of love to all of these wonderful authors <3 (also please heed their rules, esp for nsfw fics!!)

part of my 2023 wrap up!

@koqabear

um like. quite literally everything sol has posted this year. i am being so serious. check out their masterlist right NEOWWWW and read EVERYTHING

@blackhairedjjun

flowers of every color — i could rave about this series for like 10 hours straight, i'm not even kidding. it's sweet with the perfect amount of angst to really draw you in, i fell in love with every character more and more with each chapter <3 now where is my prince!jjunie :(

@tyunkus

amazon wishlist (m) — me when me when me when roommate!tyun offers to fuck me...god, i need this so bad

@jishyucks

gloves & dittany — OHHHHH how i love this fic...one of the best harry potter aus i have ever read, and with yeonjun?? slytherin!yeonjun!!!! ooooo you really got me good, op <3

bittersweet — *cowboy cat meme* DRUNK SOOOOOOOOOB i think this wins the award for being the cutest fic i read in the year of 2023

@beom-pyu

i can't swim, idiot! (m) — i will never not shut up about this fic...just faking married? with beomgyu?? with feelings involved??? yeah. Yeah <3

like the moon — merman!kai you will always be famous to me, one of my all-time favorites by far!!!!!

@toruro

answers (m) — this academic rival!taehyun fic had me screaming crying gnawing on my leg like wtf mika. how could you do this to me. i am dead now.

@hyukalyptus

something nice (m) — i went SOOOO insane over this fic like the dynamics were just. scrumptious. i love yeonkai i love this fic i love hp for writing this yes yes yes

like, never ever? (m) — ohhhh my god. this one really got me good,, dom best friend!beomgyu giving mc her first orgasm?? sign me tf up !!!!!!

@qqtxt

sway with me — i sent this in for their 1k event i just :')))) i love this so so so much!!!! dancing with yeonjun is my dream, so thank you for taking my request op!! <3

@hueareloved / @huenation

my love mine all mine (m) — the most tender and soft and SWEET nsfw fic i have ever read, so in love with this and sleepy lovesick jjunie AGHH brb rereading this

ditto — ohhhh how i love angst. amor's writing style is beautiful and it made this beomgyu fic that much more heart-wrenching <3

@huckleberrykai

laundry basket (m) — no bc this went CRAZYYY with the perv!mc thing, savored every single word of this kai fic tbh

comfy cozy (m) — CUTE AF. i am the biggest proponent of soft smut and berry writes it so well <3 i loveee soft yeonjun more than life itself

@aduh0308 / @banggyu0308

yeehaw (m) — OKAYYY cowboys!taejun fucking destroyed me like. i don't think i ever recovered from this

berry sorbet (m) — i need kai to be my soulmate rn wtf. cute n sweet and i loved it

@boba-beom

airport crush pt.2 (m) — the minute smiles told me she was working on airport crush pt.2 i passed away. nothing could have prepared me for this fic, it destroyed me in the best way...god, i need yeonjun so bad

trapped in your game (m) — i salivated. i quaked. i (s)creamed. best friend!yeonjun, please hmu </3

@napofamoon / @mazeinthemoon

you're the one love (m) — moonie ATE with this fallen angel!yeonjun fic!! i love sacrilege n this was just sooo hot

@tubatwo

workaholic — this made me giggle and kick my feet so hard...i love you cafe boss taehyun, pls marry me

@hyuk4ngel

honeymoon avenue — i. love. angst. and fay is exceptionally talented at writing it!! taehyun better watch out tho >:(

@mapofthemazeinthemirror / @afterbluehours

untitled (m) — this yeonbin x reader fic is SOOOO hot like. i screamed. i cried. i rolled around in a fetal position because it just made me so insane

@nightlyawnzz

duality (m) — OHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYY GODDDDDDD i think this is one of the hottest kai fics i have ever read in my entire life. i don't often see kai as a hard dom in fics so this opened my eyes (can't wait for the final part!!)

@scintillasofbeomgyu

you are in love — one of my jjunie comfort fics!!! sweet n soft and everything to me :')

@petrichor-han

twenty-three suns (m) — rain's writing style hits me straight in the gut, especially with this summer fling au with taehyun :') lovely yet heart-wrenching and AGHH i love this

@ncteez

untitled (m) — UMMM this camboy!yeonjun fic altered the trajectory of my entire life. i fucking die every time i read this, like it has to be laced with crack or something

menace (m) — this was batshit INSANE LIKEEEE gangster!yoongi fucked me up so bad (in the best way)

@yeonboy

never meet your heroes — ONE OF MY FAVS EVER. LIKE. COLLEGE AU WITH SOOBIN???? I AM SO OBSESSED YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND

@ijhyo

how to get the girl — i ate this up SO hard. i just adore both the mc and beomgyu's characters in this, definitely another all-time favorite of mine

@cheolhub

head (m) — SAR YOU WERE INSANE FOR THIS. sub!soobin makes me so feral and this made my brainrot even worse UGHHH

@starbandit

backseat (m) — oh. oh yeah. now this is everything to me, best friend!yeonjun + car sex = a very very happy me

@tonicandjins

learning languages (m) — i don't often read donghyuck fics (or nct fics in general), but this one. oh, this one is beautiful. it made me cry, it made go through so many emotions i just. read this right now, you won't regret it

@heart2beom

cliche — i still vividly remember this first time that i read this, the dialogue is hilarious and it is just sweet n fluffy n AGHH i will forever adore this fic <3

and some more accounts with amazing fics!!!: @majestyjun @hyewka @taegimood @naomiarai @hyuk4sbf @fairyofshampgyu @enha-cafe @moonhoures @wolfytae-exe @dearlyjun @heartchoi @sook9i @tinietaehyun @minastras

a big thank you to all of these writers for sharing your works!! <3

[airaibunny]

miyeon x reader - “the idea of her” (warnings: fluff, kissing, nudity)

a/n: BLONDE MIYEON APPRECIATION! this is literally an adaptation of a chapter story i had in my notes app😭 i haven’t the slightest clue if miyeon can drive, but pretend she can. i also do not know how gidle’s dorm situation works, once again, just pretend i’m right.

IM SORRY FOR LYING, I KNOW I SAID I WOULD WRITE THE ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ MINA SMUT NEXT, BUT THIS JUST POPPED INTO MY HEAD AND I HAD TO.

anyway, hope you enjoy pooks😭

word count: 1.3k

"y/n."

"y/n!"

"Y/N?!"

you barely register yuqi calling you as you’re zoning out. you’re at a fansign and should be paying attention to the fans, but you just can’t help being completely enraptured with her.

everything from her gorgeous blonde hair to the way her eyes squint when she smiles has you completely smitten. you’ve been in the same group for years and you’ve felt this way from the very beginning. you’re sure nobody can notice how you feel though, or at least you hope so for the sake of your career. if you’re wrong, cho miyeon might be the reason for your untimely expulsion.

"y/n? are you there? we’re leaving." yuqi waves a hand in front of your face and pulls you out of your chair before you can react. you finally notice everyone packing up around you. maybe you zoned out a bit too hard.

"oh, okay." you simply follow yuqi as she pulls your hand and walks you to the car. the entire way there you’re looking around for miyeon, but she’s nowhere to be seen. once you get to the car, yuqi practically throws you inside and you bump into shuhua.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” of course shuhua being shuhua starts yelling and whining at you. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, YUQI THREW ME!” shuhua shifts her anger towards yuqi, shouting at her instead.

“oh sorry, i didn’t realize i was in your way, BITCH!" she rubs her arm where you bumped into her and then does the same to you. "you’re the bitch, STOP YELLING!" shuhua stops rubbing your arm and fully turns to the passenger seat where yuqi is. “how the fuck are you going to tell me to stop yelling WHILE YOU’RE YELLING?!”

just as shuhua is finishing her sentence, miyeon gets in the drivers seat of the car.

“oh my god, both of you shut up. i can hear you from outside.”

she isn’t even talking to you, but you halt your breathing unconsciously. fuck, how is she so devine? you’re sitting in the backseat opposite to the drivers seat, so you have a perfect view of her.

“minnie and soyeon are driving back in the other car, does anyone want to switch cars to even it out?”

yuqi immediately storms out of the car and slams the door behind her. shuhua scoffs in response. them arguing is normal, you’re sure they’ll be completely fine as soon as you get home.

“now i feel lonely, someone come sit up here.” shuhua doesn’t react, so you’re guessing she doesn’t want to move. you take advantage of the opportunity and go sit bedside miyeon. she smiles when you sit and your eyes widen, she’s just so incredible.

once you’re on the road, you put headphones in and sneakily stare a miyeon every now and then. a few more minutes into the drive, you feel her hand land on your thigh. you tense at the feeling, but continue facing forward. you all have little to no boundaries with each other, miyeon doing this is not new. nevertheless, her touch quickens your heartbeat immensely.

you fiercely wish you could tell her how you feel. she’s never explicitly told you she doesn’t like girls, so a relationship with her is plausible. be that as it may, you have no clue if she likes you.

you finally arrive at the dorms and follow miyeon around while she grabs things from the trunk and walks upstairs. you practically attach yourself to her every chance you get.

you walk through the front door and flop down on the couch, watching as miyeon walks around trying to tidy things up before bed. you don’t realize that you’re dozing off until someone pats your upper back, softly whispering to you.

“hey, let’s go to bed.”

you slightly open your eyes to see miyeon kneeling in front of your face, smiling at you. you stand and she takes your hand, holding it all the way to her room. you’re hesitant to go in because you don’t normally sleep with miyeon, you share a room with shuhua.

“oh, right. yuqi and shuhua are over their little fight as usual so yuqi went to sleep in your room, they kind of kicked you out.”

“oh.”

you try hiding your excitement as you completely walk into the room. this doesn’t happen often, but you love when it does. you delight in falling asleep next to miyeon, even if she’s in a completely different bed.

“oh shit, i didn’t think to grab your pijamas before they fell asleep. you can just wear mine.”

she picks random clothes from her closet and hands them to you. she also picks some for herself and begins undressing. you get extremely flustered. even after all this time changing together for music shows and photo shoots and whatnot, you still can’t handle seeing her naked. when it’s any of the others, you’re not fazed at all, it’s only her.

she finishes changing and looks your way, rolling her eyes. “change! i don’t want you to fall asleep in those clothes.” she walks outside to do something and leaves you alone in the room. you try changing, but fall back on the bed instead. you’re so tired, you start to doze off again.

you fall asleep and awake a few minutes later to miyeon pulling your shirt off. you nearly die in that instant.

holy fuck.

“i told you to change.”

she completely takes your shirt off and throws it aside, turning back to you. her face is centimeters away from yours. so close that one rough move would make your lips touch.

you feel a sudden rush of adrenaline and lean into her without thinking. you immediately pull back, slapping a hand over your lips.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to.”

she’s frozen for a few seconds. you curse yourself as you feel tears forming in your eyes. why would you do that? that was so reckless. what if you just ruined your friendship with her?

“miyeon, i’m so sorry.”

she puts a hand on your cheek, bringing you in for a kiss. you swear you can feel every single thing on your mind fade away. the only feeling you’re aware of in this moment is her lips on yours. they’re warm and soft, just like you imagined.

“don’t apologize.”

she whispers against you lips with a smile. you pull her back in, deepening the kiss. you know it’s cliché, but you wish you could stay here forever. you part her lips with your tongue, gently pushing it inside her mouth. she giggles at your excitement, letting you take control of the kiss.

“how long have you been holding that in?”

she taunts as she pulls away, placing her hand on your thigh. “i don’t know.” she chuckles at you. “wanna know how long i’ve been holding it in?” your cheeks redden at her question. she’s liked you this entire time. why didn’t you do something sooner?!

“a very long time.” she leans in for another quick kiss before completely laying down on the bed. “finish changing and come cuddle with me.” you hop up and tear all of your clothes off, putting on your pijamas as quickly as you can.

“you’re so cute.” you hear her remark as you’re struggling to put your shorts on. as soon as you’re done, you jump back into bed, wrapping around her like a sloth. you plant kisses all over her face as she smiles, you just can’t contain yourself. you can’t fathom that she actually likes you. the girl you’ve been completely whipped for all this time actually likes you.

she pushes your hair out of you face, running her fingers through it.

“miyeon?” you ask while looking into her eyes. “yes?” she responds, still playing with your hair. “what are we now?” she kisses you again, bringing you closer to her chest.

“whatever you want us to be, pretty girl.”

[fbfh]

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch. 6

wc: 2.8k

genre: slowburn, best friends to lovers, painful tooth rotting fluff

pairing: Audrey x Ben, eventual Ben x daughter of alice!reader

warnings: ben's deeply repressed feelings looming ominously in the distance, audrey being an absolute bitch but what's new, op fixing the lore with nail glue and packing tape, Evie is a fucking icon as always

summary: After a long day fighting your way through a mountain of paperwork, you find yourself unable to sleep. Sneaking into ben's room always does the trick. Mal can't find a love spell in her spell book, but she finds something that should work almost as well.

song recs: spring fever - sub urban

a/n: the one thing that pisses me off is that there is no canonical use of love spells in the disney universe outside of descendants. they literally don't exist. genie says no making someone fall in love with someone else. you'd think they would know their own lore /lh

anyway fangz to cici as always (i am so sorry about buggy) and also as always, an optional fit for your viewing pleasure

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777

You spend the next several hours by Ben’s side as you bounce between various meetings, and of course, your etiquette lessons that you’ve been attending since you were no older than a twizzleroot blossom.  They're not really etiquette lessons, not anymore. They were when you were young, you would attend a few times a week with all the other kids your age. You’d learn how to drink tea, how to write thank you notes, and all the other things you need to know to feel comfortable in royal high society settings. By the end of middle school, most of your peers were no longer in attendance. 

You and Ben, however, used the opportunity to learn about more and more of the nuanced aspects of politics, social graces, and media training. Your parents were both glad for this, and since you seemed on track to be real politicians and not just socialites, it was a perfect fit. However, saying that you have to go to your class for advanced political studies, world history, social graces, and media training is a little too clunky for your taste. You and Ben never grew out of calling them etiquette lessons, so the name stuck to this day.

On this day in particular, you now find yourself sitting next to Ben at a large table in one of the many makeshift conference rooms on campus. You’ve been in and out of meetings and lessons and debriefings about the Isle kids’ arrival, and now you’ve finally made it nearly to the end of your to do list. Ben insisted you didn’t need to stay late with him to do all this paperwork, but you insisted equally as much that you wouldn’t dream of leaving him to do it all himself. Now as Ben skims the monotonous text, signing on lines and initialing boxes, you dig through a seemingly endless database of forms, trying to find the right one. 

You bounce increasingly obscure form titles back and forth for a few minutes. After coming up with nothing, Ben lets out an amiable laugh. He should have expected something that seems straightforward would take at least ten times as long as it should. That’s government for you, that’s what his dad would say. A knock at the door draws both your attention, and Jane pokes her head in awkwardly. She tucks a section of her dark blunt bob behind her ear, then speaks nervously. 

“Uh, hi. My mom sent me,” she says in a quiet, hesitant voice. “She said she’s going to be about half an hour late. There was a problem with some ducks in the forest, or something?” 

Ben smiles at her politely.

“Thanks, Jane.” Ben says politely. Jane nods and leaves quickly, fussing with her short hair. You let out a puff of air from between your lips.

“Even more delays…” you murmur, clicking onto page 23 out of 66 of forms to look through. “How fun.”

Ben chuckles, agreeing as he stands up to stretch his legs. He walks around for a moment, and turns on an extra lamp. It’s starting to get dark out, and the last thing either of you need right now is eye strain. Wait, it’s already getting dark out? He stops in his tracks.

“Shit.” He mutters, reaching for his phone on the table. He completely forgot about dinner with Audrey, but he has to find these forms and get them filled out tonight. You try not to look like you're listening too closely as the phone rings, but Audrey’s voice is quite hard to ignore. Before he can greet her, she’s already demanding to know where he is and why he’s late.

“No, no. I- I didn’t forget. I… well… uh, no. It’s-” Ben rambles around Audrey’s interjections. He gets up, pacing around a little, and walking across the room away from you. He doesn’t want you to have to hear this. 

“We’re just running behind. No- No! I would never intentionally… stand you up… I-” 

“Right!” Audrey snaps on the other end, forcing a smile. “Well then. Maybe we should just cancel!” 

“Wh- uh, okay. I- I’ll make it up to you. We can… uh, later this week? We’ll - before the next tourney meet? I…” 

Ben sighs and pulls his phone away, looking at the screen. Call ended. He walks back over to the table, sitting down to continue trudging through the task at hand. You wordlessly slide a teacup over toward him, the colorful porcelain filled with warm chai, perfectly sweetened. He cracks a smile, and accepts the cup. 

“Thanks, bunny.” He says quietly. You hum warmly in response. You settle back into your comfortable silence, trudging through forms and digging through documents. As you sit across from each other, the pile of completed paperwork steadily grows taller. Hours pass, and you don’t realize how late it is until you’re finally ready to call it quits for tonight. You stumble through your bedtime routine, grateful that you have your muscle memory to carry you through. As soon as your head hits your soft pillow… nothing happens. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable, then let out an irritated sigh. You managed to get through such a long day and mountains of paperwork, and you still can’t sleep. 

In the opposite wing of the dorms, Ben has no trouble winding down. He’s cozy in his silky royal blue and daffodil yellow sheets, and he’s satisfied with a long day of hard, productive work. He lets out a soft breath, feeling himself teetering on the brink of sleep. Then he hears his door creak open. Soft, muffled footsteps creep across the wood floor, then grow silent as they meet the expansive carpet covering the majority of the floor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel someone crouching next to his bed. 

“...Ben?”

He cracks a smile at the sound of your voice, how quiet and tiny you sound in the lateness of the night. You smile a little too when you see him fighting a little grin. After a moment, he answers. 

“Yes bunny?”

“Are you asleep?” You ask carefully. You wait in the darkness for him to answer. 

“Yes.” 

You smile at his sarcastic response, letting out a little breathy giggle through your nose. You kick off your bunny slippers - complete with little tophats - and crawl into bed next to Ben. He’s already scooching over and lifting up the blankets for you, pulling them over your shoulders the way he knows you like. 

He doesn’t need to ask if you couldn’t sleep, he already knows you couldn’t. You’ve been doing this, sneaking in for sleepovers when insomnia gets the best of you, for as long as he can remember. Something about his presence comforts you, relaxes you through even the longest, most never ending nights. No matter how tired he is, he’s always happy to be there for you on nights like tonight, he’s always happy to keep you warm and talk you to sleep. 

And that’s just what he does. He lets you lead the conversation, rambling about whatever springs to mind, emptying out your brain so you can rest. He’d like to think he knows you pretty well by now. He knows just what to do to help you settle down, to give you the best chance of having a restful night. It’s no surprise to him that you mostly seem to be thinking about the Isle kids. 

“I mean, this is real. Our actions mean they get a chance at a better life.” You mutter drowsily. Your cheek is squished against his pillow and your words are heavy with fatigue. Ben can’t help but think it makes your Wonderland accent that much… cuter. 

“Yeah,” He agrees. He traces his hand along your back soothingly. He glances down and notices you’re wearing the white button down shirt you sometimes wear as a pajama top. He asked you about it once, and you said it made you think of him. He smiles a little as he settles back into his pillows.

“I just hope they’ll be able to assimilate well.” You say, a tone of worry now present in your words. “The only thing worse than doing nothing would be having their decisions made for them because of social pressure…” 

“We’ll keep a close eye out for that.” Ben says. His voice is husky and drowsy. It fills you with warmth, with an appreciation for him and the way he stays up with you even though you know how tired he must be. You nod a little, then find yourself rambling again. 

“I just wish there was a way to guarantee that they felt welcome and not… ostracized.” You mumble. You inch closer to him, snuggling into his warm chest and listening to his soothing heartbeat. It speeds up almost imperceptibly as you do.

“Make sure they know that we know them as people. As individuals, and not just…” You continue, cutting yourself off with a yawn. You stretch a little as you do, then curl back up. Ben looks down at you, smiling a little at how sweet you are, at how clingy you get when you’re sleepy. 

“As the children of their parents…” You finish. Ben hums in agreement. He notices how heavy your eyes are getting, how your speech is slowing, how the flow of your thoughts have gone from a fully blasting garden hose to a subtly dripping kitchen sink. You’re about to fall asleep, which means he can let himself sleep too. He couldn’t have gone to bed before now if he wanted to. If he knows you can’t sleep, he won’t be able to either. But feeling your soft breaths across his skin, feeling the way your chest rises and falls as his hand lays comfortingly on your side, knowing that you’re warm and safe here, with him… Ben feels more relaxed than he has in a long time. Probably since… the last time you couldn’t sleep. 

Sometimes when it’s just the two of you like this, all drowsy and late at night, in the moments before he falls asleep, Ben sometimes gets… weird thoughts. Weird, random, impulsive thoughts that are not at all like him. Totally out of left field stuff, like… wanting to kiss you. Like, really, really wanting to kiss you. Sometimes that turns into wanting to hold you, too. And not like this, not holding you platonically, like a best friend, but… holding you a different way. Maybe wanting to hold you tight in his arms, and lay you down in his big, silky bed, and… 

Ben squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment before relaxing his face. He puts a manual stop to that train of thought, absolutely refusing to let it continue anymore. He won’t entertain it, he won’t let it heat up his cheeks anymore. He doesn’t like thinking things like that about anyone, and he certainly won’t let himself think anything like that about you. He sighs softly. These crazy thoughts will be gone by the morning. They always are. They have to be. 

Besides, it’s so late, he won’t even remember this by the time he wakes up. That’s what he always tells himself. The last thing he would never admit to anyone - not even to himself - surfaces right before he falls asleep. It must be the late hour, where everything vulnerable feels completely abstract and intangible, but he thinks it’s a lot easier to stop himself from thinking those things about Audrey than it is to stop thinking those things about you. 

While you and Ben drift off to sleep, safe and sound in each other’s arms, someone else is wide awake. Sitting in the dorm she shares with Evie, Mal sits on her bed, scouring her spell book exactly like she’s been doing since Ben left earlier that afternoon. After hours of hitting brick wall after brick wall, Mal is met with the back cover of the book. Again. She lets out a frustrated noise, and flips back to the beginning.

“There’s not a single love spell in this whole fucking book!” She exclaims. She looks over the first few pages, reading them more closely in hopes that she somehow missed something. Evie sits across the room in front of a lit up mirror, plucking meticulously at her eyebrows. 

“Are we…” She winces, then inspects her skin and eyebrows again. “Are we sure we need a love spell?” 

Mal rolls her eyes at the question. Yes, obviously they need a love spell. Evie is oblivious to her irritation, and continues thinking out loud around her careful use of the sharp tweezers in her hand. 

“I could… just work my charm on him. All it would take is one look into my…” Another wince. “Hypnotizing eyes, and he’d be wrapped around my finger.”

She leans back, taking a final look at her work, more satisfied with her appearance now. 

“I mean, he’s not really my type, but…” she shrugs, and looks at Mal, waiting for some kind of reaction from her. Mal doesn’t look up at Evie’s eyebrows, she just keeps digging through her book and ignoring the sound of Carlos and Jay playing videogames.

“No, we need a spell. This has to work. It has to be foolproof.” 

Evie grabs a jade roller and some hydrating gel. She still can’t believe how amazing the makeup and the skincare in Auradon is. She hasn’t seen one half wilted aloe plant, and this gel is infused with roses from Aurora’s moors, glacier water from Arendelle, and caviar fished from the Caribbean. She can’t wait to get her hands on a decent blush, and a lip liner that doesn’t double as eyeliner and an eyebrow pencil. 

Evie notices the scowl on Mal’s face as she hunches over the spell book. Normally she would scold Mal for making faces that will give her wrinkles, but now that she has her hands on retinol, hyaluronic acid, and hydrocolloid patches, she can fix any stress wrinkles Mal brings upon herself. After what feels like an eternity of searching the same pages over and over, something catches Mal’s eye, causing her to stop in her tracks. It’s more of her mothers rambling annotations and scrawled notes, this time on the topic of hypnosis. 

Hypnosis can be useful as long as you’re stealthy with it. Jafar got sloppy, he kept hypnotizing that stupid sultan over and over, not bothering to use hypnosis for it’s true purpose - a means to an end. If you’re an evil genius like I am, and you use hypnosis sparingly, no one will be the wiser. Don’t get me started on that oversized calamari - Ursula has to be the best example of what not to do when you’re hypnotizing a bonehead prince to make him think he’s in love with you. Something as easily breakable as a necklace? Please. Besides, everyone knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. 

Her mother’s scratchy handwriting goes on for a while, some anecdote about her and Mal’s father, something she’d rather not read. Ever. She thinks back to what Evie said about wrapping Ben around her finger, and in one desperately needed moment of clarity, everything falls into place. A plan begins to form in her mind. 

“This… this could work.” She says. Those three, quietly spoken words get the attention of everyone in the room. Evie sets down her gua sha stone, and Carlos pauses their videogame. They all walk over, hesitant and eager to hear what Mal figured out. Mal lets out a laugh of disbelief. It seems so simple now, she wonders why she didn’t think of it sooner. She can just hypnotize Ben into falling in love with her. She can trick him into thinking that he loves Mal more than he’s ever loved Audrey, then - boom! Front row seats to coronation, which means front row seats to stealing the wand out from under their noses. 

While Mal silently hashes out the details so she can tell her friends, Evie inspects her cuticles. She really should push them back. She stands up, grabbing a cuticle pusher and an orange wood stick from her pencil cup before making her way back over to Mal’s bed. As the three of them wait with bated breath, Mal looks over the hypnosis spell again and again. After a few moments, she tucks a piece of paper between the pages, marking her spell to reference later. She slams the book shut, and looks up at her friends.

“Come on guys. Let’s go bake some cookies.”

[ghoulishtomato]

Gonna preface this reblog with: Sorry, I'm being kind of a naggy bitch.

B u t..

Bestie, it's only been one episode. You cannot accurately predict how the rest of the anime will go or decide that the story is already butchered based on certain decisions made in the first episode😭😭😭🙏🏻 (also, slight character design changes between manga and anime are like- standard, and expected. Tenya Iida has red eyes in the manga, but blue ones in the anime, like- a tiny detail like that is not indicative of how the show is being treated. Sorry, your fuckin' line about the eye color thing has me going mental in a very bad way 💀💀💀)

Not to mention, ppl who haven't read the manga OR actually watched the anime calling Haruaki a pervert has BEEN and ALWAYS WILL be happening- Idk how many people have told me they thought Ghoul School looked fun but were absolutely put off by the sailor uniform thing at first. I understand you want people to like it, and I understand why you're sad people are mislabeling it, but you're doing the same thing: deciding the quality and type of show the Anime adaptation will be based off of A SINGLE EPISODE 😭😭

And cut scenes or jokes does not mean it's taking away from time or character. Yeah, the First scene with Mujina and Tama, and Sano and Mame was cute but like? We still walked away with an understanding of who Sano and Mame are and their relationships with each other and Haruaki.

I literally cannot stand (read: understand /relate to) how emo some people are feeling about the Yohaji adaptation, so I guess this is basically my vent, too. But ho-ly shit. Not even the manga had the most beautiful story happening in volume 1- it was still a shits and giggles story. Let the anime have it's chance to be silly, fast paced gags at first, too. That's what gives the more sentimental moments that little "umph". I doubt it'll cut all the comedy chapters because it seems quite clear to me the anime will be super comedy focused at first. So just Give it a chance.

The opening and ending themes (song and animation) have a lot of love and care put into it, with LOTS of refs and loving re-creations of things in the manga, and I think the anime will treat the characters and story with the love and respect it deserves, too.

You might just be getting way too into your head about, worried about what the shows NOT doing instead of actually looking at what it is doing so far.

I love A Terrified Teacher at Ghoul School very much, too, it is SO near and dear to my heart. Which is why implore you to not just drop it after one episode. Also, rewatch the first episode on your own. When you get used to the changes, you'll prolly find it flowing better than you thought it did first go around. It did for me at least.

I do not hate you by the way. I do not know you. I do not intend for this to be an attack of character or anything. But I am a defensive person by nature, so I'm not sorry about insisting that the Ghoul School anime is actually pretty good so far, despite nice character bits or jokes that were cut.

Anyway....

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk??????

Sorry, I just want to vent a little, feel free to ignore this.

I finally watched the first episode of "a terrified teacher at ghoul school".... And I don't know how to feel, there were a lot of jokes that weren't in the manga that I genuinely liked, but I feel like the worst thing they could have done is combine the first 3 chapters into one episode :(

I feel like they missed a lot of jokes and facts, plus I felt the characters OOC, I hate to sound like the typical "the book is better" but as a fan of this manga since "Ayaka6" came out around 2016, I feel very sad to see how all the comments were hateful, especially towards haruaki and seeing how they labeled the anime as a "typical perverted heap anime".

Not to mention that some scenes they took out, I personally think they were important to give an idea of the tone of the series and how each of the characters are like... (I really wanted to see the mame and sano scenes animated 😭😭😭)

Like this beautiful scene of the spin-off that connects directly with chapter 1 :( (Thanks to the little person who translates the spin-off, they saves my life AND soul)

And it's not all bad, the seiyuus did a great job.... But it really pisses me off that they even got mame's eye color wrong :( if they didn't even check that, I'm worried about the future of the series honestly.

It's a very beautiful story and I feel like they butchered it a little bit.

I don't even know if I'll watch episode 2 and I'm a little depressed because I was looking forward to the anime with a lot of excitement....

Well like I said it's just me and my need to vent xd btw I really liked the opening xD it's funny.

AND sorry for my English too xd

[exstasyplague]

UnPopular Jujutsu Kaisen Opinions (with arguments)

manga spoilers

☆ Yuji is the perfect MC

i've seen a lot of people trashing on him. some say gege writes him poorly and doesn't give him enough scenes, some say he's boring because he doesn't have any fancy cursed techniques. first of all, yuji has been aware of the jujutsu world for 6 months in manga; even less in anime. he doesn't have any OP cliche to him (looking at you Ichigo) and that makes him so much more enjoyable! when he loses he loses for good reasons and when he wins you can feel genuinely happy for him because you know he deserves it. he is a teenager and the shift in his mentalities embodies that perfectly; along with him we discover the cruelty and unfairness of the jujutsu world. at first, especially if you're a shonen watcher, you'd tend to believe he will shift to a high white knight borderline annoying mentality yet he doesn't, the jjk verse doesn't work like that. yuji is able to adapt. he has traits that you'd see in your real life friends: silliness, kindness, idiocy, love for jennifer lawrence etc but also traits that make him a perfect mc: empathy, resiliance, convinction, raw anger. + gege have him some of the HARDEST panels.

ㅡif it's just pain... Yuji Itadori won't ever stop

also. his last battle with mahito. hands down. best. panels.

mahito (another well structured villain) RUNNING for his life while yuji walks slowly behind him. if that doesn't show major improvement from the kid he was at the beginning idk what does. that's some MC shit right there man.

☆ Sukuna is not a fraud

the fraudkuna memes are funny. i admit. i'm sure mahoraga kisses him goodnight and tucks his blankey, however, sukuna is a fucking piece of shit, LOL (i mean it in the best way), my man literally became curse. people expect him to not use the weapons he has to his advantage as if he didn't want megumi from the beginning specifically for using his abilities. a good gun doesn't make you a military tier shooter. it's about the resources, it's about the experience, it's about the aim. "why doesn't he use his curse technique wah wah" — because he knows gojo is strong. unless he isn't absolutely sure he will strip him away from all his gimmicks, he has no reason to flaunt his true powers. sukuna wants to win. he wanted to kill gojo since the beginning of the series. i think the fight is balanced well, sukuna uses his resources and takes the consequences for being a tad too cautious. in the heian era when cursed energy had a purer, rawer output even domain expansions were simple in principles: you're in, i kill you. (line from the manga, btw) his CT is probably straightforward as well with a simple principle so having gojo use his infinity against it and figure out how to strip him naked would make him lose faster than todo called yuji his bestie.

☆ Gege doesn't hate women

because the unfortunate thing with nobara and yuki getting xd-d by kenjaku, a popular belief seems to be that gege is fond of trashing the women in his series. argument people have for that? "the only one in the spotlight is maki and she's female toji". first of all, if gege hated women he wouldn't write them as he does— each one of his lady characters is incredibly well structured and way beyond the love interest/ gotta be protected trope. mei mei, shoko, utahime, miwa and many others became non-existent, or what? even tengen is a woman. masashi kishimoto (the creator of naruto) is an author i'd say has 0 regards for women since the way most of his girl characters are built is literal dog shit. sakura is naruto's one sided love and a sasuke dickrider, hinata is a stalker that sharts when she sees naruto, karin is a sasuke dickrider, kurenai is asuma's chick and the only two women somewhat ok as a structure are tsunde and temari. (i am a big fan of the naruto series but i am spitting facts, also an avid sakura lover) plus there is a rumour that gege is a woman too and from the way sato sugu is written i'd agree anw

☆ Kenjaku is the best villain of the series

homie got railed by itadori's papi just for his plan, that's not even aizen level of plotting bro. he got drizzled in jizz and gave birth to yuji 💀

how good that d had to be for him to get impregnated....

ANYWAY jokes aside, he is very calculated and chill. he is not the strongest but his literal essence is to be a technique stealing leech and well, he's just that. with suguru, even in his villain arc you can empathize. sukuna is cool and straightforward: he wants to massacre people, kill gojo and then enjoy his life slashing random ass people who don't kneel is total submission.

kenjaku? bro, kenjaku has plans over plans and he executes all of them. even in geto's sexy body he still gets hated because there is genuinely nothing likeable about him. not because he's a poorly written character, he's written to be a piece of shit that makes you wanna break the screen when he gets a W and idk about y'all but even when he exorcised mahito i was like "aw hell nah bruh, get your hands off asap". may come as a shock, i know but we're like supposed to hate villains (not me being the biggest sukuna simp even in his crusty dusty OG form🤭) and well, nobody fucking roots for kenjaku. so gojo, go take your boyfriend's body or something fr.

☆ Yuta is.... mid

hear me out.

i don't hate him— not in the slightest. i hope he will actually have something going on with maki since apparently nobara is afk. i liked his entire rika situation but... bro.

yes, i will be going into the power system 😭I'M SORRY BUT like all he does is copy shit. wow. sure, he's a good copycat. i am not complaining about him being called so powerful and wtv but i don't find anything exciting about his battles and his personality is dead ass boring. do i get happy when he wins? yes. do i hope he'll come and save goatjo? yes. yes. yes. but people call him the real MC and all that shit... not even that— i... nothing in me likes him. my opinions are not absolute. his story is cool. i liked jjk 0 but the only thing that ruins his story is literally his lack of perosnality. and don't come at me for not grasping his depths or whatever. yuta is best fanfic y/n material because he can be turned into bashful stereotype really easily. "omg, best friend power, precious friends made me wanna live ❤️" very sweet HOWEVER very untouching for me. i only liked him when he made maki go all blushy because my girl deserves happiness.

☆ Toji actually cares about Megumi

is he the good father that would spoil his kid as a ray of sunshine?

no.

but he chose this. to forget about everything, to abandon his pride, to part himself away from the clan that rejected him and live his life on his own. megumi's mom made shit better for him and she died so his life became shit again. he thought that by entrusting megumi to the zenin clan he would actually be able to make something of himself since he had cursed energy.

also, people tend to forget just how conservative and judgemental the 3 big clans are, maki and mai have been shat on their whole life by the zenins, especially maki. toji went through the same shit if not worse. he wasn't always buff max version of himself, he wasn't born with anything. exactly because he gave up on all the things in his life he was able to reach that type of power and live with some purpose since he failed in everything else.

in the manga he has the option of coming back to life as long as he keeps killing sorcerers, which is his speciality, but he meets megumi, recognises him and kills himself in order to not hurt him. be fr. anciet sorcerers sold their booty holes to kenjaku to get a second chance at life.

ANYWAY. SADLY i can't post Toji memes since i reached my pic limits.

let me know what you think:) i may make a part 2. feel free to also ask for my opinions about anything in the verse, lol. if you wanna see my fics check my ao3, i promise i don't write in the same braindead way i type. <33

[artemismoorea03]

Danny Phantom Head-canons I love!

Some of these are popular others I've only ever really seen me or a select few actually use!

Trans Danny - Super Popular and I love it for a handful of reasons! But I also love it out of spite and the amount of hate comments and threats I've gotten about this one only fuels me. Keep it up, transphobes, I'm not afraid to make all your favorite characters trans just to spite you.

Unaging Danny - Not one I see very often but I adore. I mean, he can't age by human standards because he's half-ghost but he can't age by ghost standards because he's half-alive. Makes perfect sense to me, but again I have gotten hate for this so again I write it more often.

Phantom Pains - hehe get it? Phantom pain- never mind. I love this one and see it quite a bit. Phantom pains and chronic pain from the different things he's been though. Hell, he had to reform his entire body before, there's no way something doesn't hurt.

Ghost King Danny - I love this one and it's super popular. I use it a lot but I also like to add twists to it. Because on one hand we've seen this boy take control of shitty situations but he also doesn't want to be a hero let alone a King. And there's no way that what the Observers tried to convince Clockwork to do wouldn't be considered Treason if that was the case. Nobody wants him to be King, least of all him. I love it, but I also love seeing works that don't use it, y'know?

'All Our Powers' - now this one I don't think I've ever seen anybody but me actually use. Sure, I've seen a ton of 'OP Danny' but I've never seen people credit that OP-ness to a certain phrase or event rather than just the fact the kid is a powerhouse on his own. But, this head canon is basically born from something Poindexter said in Season 1 Episode 5 "Splitting Images"; "You're the halfa! Everybody in the Ghost Zone talks about you. You're half a boy, half a ghost; the Halfa! You have all our powers on the human plane!" Now this might have just been talking about basic ghost powers but I like to think that he meant it literally. And that he does have the ability to learn every ghost power. Go big or go home! :3

Anyways, just a couple that I wanted to mention because I was bored~

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

of course it’s an alicent profile pic saying this shit:

the thing is, i would’ve agreed with the original sentiment of this post if it wasn’t for the tags, but then this person goes mask off and proves to me that they were only pretending to offer meaningful criticism.

cause all i see in these tags is buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️

i just wanna know, why are the targaryens always singled out as the house that ‘regularly cannibalizes its own?’

these don’t exist ig: the she-wolves of winterfell, the current lannisters, and literally every House ever.

why are the targaryens held to such an unfair standard? and why are they held responsible for the sins of their ancestors?

it is literally so funny. but like… in an astonishing kind of way.

in these tags there’s no objective language used 🙅‍♀️ no care for nuance 🙅‍♀️ and no meaningful interaction with the main themes of the series 🙅‍♀️

OP kind of tries to pretend, but it’s all surface level shit. it’s clear that they’re blinded by their hatred of the targs and dany.

because george never holds things his characters can’t control against them. what a character should be judged by is their actions, and imo, that’s what george writes about: how individual characters actions and choices can shape the world around them (bonus if the character is a cripple, bastard, or broken thing and is trying to protect others); and he also puts a lot of emphasis on a characters intentions and how they come to their decisions, which gets us his famous ‘human heart in conflict with itself’ thesis statement.

george, someone who’s interested in the choices of the individual and how they get there, clearly thinks it’s important to showcase how different characters handle great power, otherwise he wouldn’t have so many POV characters in positions of such great importance.

on that note, asoiaf isn’t an anti-monarchy piece. you could easily claim that it’s a criticism of systematic oppression, systematic violence, corrupt institutions, and unbalanced social structures; it’s a sort of think piece on how people in positions of power destroy the lives of the common in their petty fights of greed and ambition, all whilst ignoring the incoming humanity ending threat.

and through this thought process, you get the title of the first book: a game of thrones. the political shifts are a game for these powerful people, and this motif is one of the most important statements to understand in order to interact with the series discussion on what it means to be a good ruler. this motif also comes up in a conversation jorah and dany have about the smallfolk: “It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace. They never are.” it’s high lords, not royals. it’s a critique of the whole social structure and political system, not a criticism of one family.

so, if you’re of this belief that petty power disputes are dumb and are angry that most high lords don’t give a shit about their subjects, then you should love daenerys, who’s one of the few characters who’s using her power to make lasting societal change.

now, is she perfect? no. no she’s not. cause she’s a teenage girl trying to take down a slave trade that’s been around for thousands of years (hilarious that she’s actually fixing the mistakes of her ancestors…). but dany is learning and is doing her best to get better and is trying to empower the powerless. that sets her apart from almost every other ruler in asoiaf and makes her one of the most important POVs in this book series quest to find out what makes a good ruler. something something gods make kings and queens to protect those who can’t protect themselves…

with that in mind, i agree that the conclusion of the series won’t be a character sitting on a throne because of their blood or because of some divine right mumbo jumbo. imo, a character will only sit on a throne if they’ve been smart, gained allies, formed alliances, have control of an army, have gained loyalty from the people they wish to rule, have been honorable, maybe have a dragon or three, and are a hero.

dany has checked off almost all the boxes, so i think it’s safe to root for her. and considering the foreshadowing, i think it’s logical to guess that peace will be ushered in, even if it’s a hard won peace. and what’s wrong with believing that daenerys will be one of the ones who helps usher in this peace after all the work she’s done to protect those who don’t have the power to protect themselves?

[cnwolf-brainrot]

OK HI HOLY COW I HAVE BEEN STARING AT THIS ALL DAY TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW PUT INTO WORDS MY THOUGHTS HERE BECAUSE MY ENTIRE BRAIN OS JUST BUZZING BECAUSE HOLY COW THIS IS GORGEOUS

Scene from “Weapon by Name” by CNWrites on Ao3, the fan-fiction that currently has me in a death grip