Carla

Reading blog || 27

[saintshigaraki]

joking with sae and telling him you'll pay for dinner that night and he says okay and then you just sit there silently because you both know you didnt bring your wallet out with you because you never do when you're with him

[kingbreaker-s]

smoker i Want you

[isaut]

hellooooo just Woke up (im the tenya/kdrama ask). first and foremost I must say that after reading all your post I had an unexplainable urge to cry in front of that man just to make him Crumble

"i just don't understand how this could have happened," tenya says with a frown, looking at the stain on his nice white couch. he sighs, patting at it further with his cleaning rag, bottle of cleaner in his other hand. "this is why i've told you not to eat on the couch."

jutting your bottom lip out in a pout, you watch tenya with your arms crossed.

"i do it all the time and i've never stained it," you murmur.

tenya rises to his full height and places his hands on his hips. "what do you mean, you do it all the time?"

you have to tilt your head up to look at him, but you don't hold eye contact for very long. one meeting of your eyes and then you're looking back down, the scolding sinking in. tears prickle at your eyes as the disappointment you've caused sinks in.

you shrug. tenya calls you by your first name: not darling, not sweetheart, not nekoni.

your chin trembles and your cover your face with your hands. "i'm sorry," you warble out.

tenya's eyes widen at the wavering cracks of your voice. he quickly places the cleaning supplies on the coffee table, then places his hands on your arms.

"why are you crying?" he asks, trying to tilt your head up. you don't let him. "nekoni, what are you crying for?"

"i didn't mean to spill anything," you whine pitifully.

"i know, i know," tenya says quickly, trying to sweep all of your emotions up and bundle them back together. he wraps you up in his arms, pressing you against him.

"you're mad at me," you cry into his sweatshirt.

"i'm not mad," tenya says quickly, all his irritation simmering off of him. "i'm not mad with you, sweetheart."

"you are," you insist. "i ruined your couch..."

"it's not ruined," tenya says softly, rubbing your back. "and i'm really not mad at you. i'm not."

he rests his cheek atop your head and gently rocks you side to side.

"i should have been here to have dinner with you," he murmurs. "then you wouldn't have eaten on the couch, right?"

you hum, sniffling, into him. he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"you're okay," tenya says softly, bringing a hand to scratch behind your little cat ears. "lets get you a little dessert..."

[lvmimis]

“You’re mad, aren’t you?”

And with that question, you have approximately a second to decide what your next course of action will be. Luffy’s partially descended down the ladder to the library, and while he keeps his distance across the room still, it’s only because he’s fairly confident that he’s right. You can either choose to lie, and say everything is okay, pretend you haven’t heard him at all, or tell him the truth, that you’re actually quite annoyed with him, enough so that you’ve decided to bury your head in a book until the feeling abates, but none of these options will avoid a conversation, now that he’s initiated one.

You’re just as bad a liar as him, and he’s as direct as you are indirect at times.

Choosing not to speak, you give him a glance, then look back to your book. He freezes for a moment, then decides to risk it anyway, making his way over and sitting beside you on the edge of the bench. You turn away slightly, and he frowns, and his hand hovers over your shoulder for a moment, before deciding to keep them at his sides.

“What are you reading?”

“Luffy, does it matter? Do you want to read it?” you snap.

He sighs.

“You didn’t answer my first question.”

Back to this again. You turn your head again, a little thrown off when you realize he’s closer than you expected him to be, but give him a scowl.

“Well, I’m mad now.”

Not really a lie, not really the truth.

He’s unfazed as usual, and instead of the childish pout he would give if the situation were lower in stakes, his mouth remains a thin, neutral line, as he watches you carefully, as if the words to decipher your current mix of emotions will be printed on your skin if he looks hard enough.

“It’s been a few hours.”

“It’ll be more if you don’t get away from me, Luffy.”

The neutral smile curves downwards just slightly. The two of you lock into what’s almost a staredown if a staredown could be one-sided, then too quick for you to perceive, your book is out of his hands and dropped on the other side of the room, several feet away.

Your eyes widen.

“Hey!”

You rise, but his other hand stops you gently. 

“I’ll give it back to you, I promise.”

You tilt your head in defiance.

“If you don’t return my book right now, I’ll…” but you trail off, because Luffy is not going to budge at all - his face is unchanged from the slight concern he’s had since he’s come down to the library, and you feel a little silly pressing the issue. You deflate slightly, sitting back down, then pulling your knees to your chest.

He doesn’t say anything as you gather your thoughts, simply watching the way he usually does - people, insects, the clouds in the sky, the stretch of the sea, but you can see him lean just slightly inwards, as if he’s drawn to the settling storm in your head.

“Tell me,” he says, softly. 

“It’s stupid.”

Your lower lip pulls between your teeth.

“Good. I’ll understand it.”

You blink, then unfortunately, you can’t help but laugh. But he isn’t smiling immediately, gaze still focused on you, and you almost feel a bit guilty for laughing but also for pressing the issue. You shift a bit in your seat, running a hand idly through your hair for a moment, then press your chin onto your knees. Luffy does keep his hands to himself, but he also crosses his legs, now balanced atop the bench, facing you. 

“You’re…” you trail off, looking away at the ground, then back at him.

“I’m…?”

“Handsy.”

He blinks, then tilts his head slightly.

“Like touching you too much?”

He recognizes he’s trying very hard not to touch you right now, but it doesn’t seem to add up to him appropriately, and you shake your head.

“Not me.”

Luffy pauses for a moment. He knows he’s grabby, he knows he likes to hug, he knows he doesn’t always know where his hands are, but why would you care if he’s not touching you when you don’t want to be touched?

“I…” he scratches his chin, then chooses to listen instead. It seems to have the opposite effect, because your nostrils flare, annoyed.

“Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?” you ask, now with the sensation of your face hovering over a hot stove.

“I mean… maybe?” Luffy asks. He’s keeping an internal record of who he may have accidentally dragged, pushed, hugged too tightly, or intentionally fought - he knows sometimes you have an issue with fighting - or if he’s not listened when you told him to stop touching something you were working on in the lab or-

“Stop touching other people so much, it’s kind of…” your voice trails off again.

Luffy’s mouth twists to the side.

“Are you going to finish your sentences?”

Your hand balls into a fist but you don’t even have the energy to tap him on the shoulder. You deflate further then look towards your book across the room.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing because you’re sad and won’t finish your sentences,” he insists, and there’s a bit of an edge to his voice, although it reins in when you look at him again. And then you’re embarrassed that you’re so pitiful.

Jealousy is such an embarrassing feeling. Feels too immature in a world like this that’s in need of love, unfiltered, and feels too selfish when you’re with a man that cares about you as much as he does, but it’s just hard to swallow at times.

But Luffy won’t leave unless you talk - you’ve given the cold shoulder long enough, and even if he won’t understand, if he doesn’t hear something, you’ll end up in this situation again.

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes before speaking.

“If you’re that handsy and affectionate with everyone, it just makes it feel less special, you know?”

It stays quiet long enough that your eyes do open to check his expression, and as usual it’s hard to read.

For someone so kind, he’s often so, so hard to read.

“It’s not less special,” he says first, as you expected.

“I know,” you rebut quickly.

But tears prick at your eyes anyway. He’s not going to understand this no matter how hard you try, and it’s not something you should repeat anyway.

“It’s fine, it’s just-”

Luffy moves suddenly, pulling you into his arms tightly.

“I’m not trying to make you sad,” he says into your ear. You can feel your pulse quicken for a moment. As your bodies stay pressed close, he adds, 

“It’s always different when it’s you, I promise.”

“... I know.”

“Every time, it’s special when it’s you.”

“...”

You don’t know what else to add. You don’t want to limit the love he gives to others, you don’t want to make his smile less wide, and you can’t help the love he gets from others.

“I understand.”

He laughs to himself for a moment, then adds.

“If you let me touch you ten times as much-”

You slap him on the shoulder gently.

“Don’t push it.”

He pulls apart from you, then kisses your forehead.

“Never.”

Another pause as you behold each other, and your unique affections.

“But if I start getting touchy, you have to promise to pull me away instead of getting mad.”

His hands close gently on your face, a small amount of pressure squishing your cheeks out.

“Promise.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you laugh.

“Or frown really big, okay?”

“Luffy, that’s even more unreasonable.”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as you’re not sad, okay?”

His forehead presses gently against yours as he insists.

“Promise. I want you to feel like you’re special to me, because it’s true.”

You pull back just a little bit, appreciating the smile returned back to his face, the same one that makes you feel tender and loved, and yes, unique to you and your shared love.

“Okay.”

[suguwu]

thinking about breakups again

[suguwu]

Specifically Atsumu.

Atsumu who loves so big and so hard and is a little afraid of it sometimes. It's unnerving, how much he loves you, because he thinks he loves you more than you love him. He's loud with his love, Atsumu, and sometimes he thinks it deafens you.

He thinks he loves you more, so he breaks up with you to see what you do. His worst fears are confirmed when you watch him for a moment, your face unreadable, and then you accept it. You don't fight it. You do not fight it, and you do not cry.

He makes Osamu block you for him. Across all of his socials, and your number too. He makes Osamu delete your number from his contacts too, because Atsumu knows himself and despite his pride and bluster, he might just reach out.

(He pretends he doesn't know it by heart.)

Osamu thinks he's stupid. He knows this because he tells him so. Multiple times. Osamu thinks he should talk to you, but Atsumu refuses. His brother looks at him for a moment, long and knowing.

Atsumu looks away first.

Osamu sighs and does it. He knows what Atsumu's like when he digs in his heels, and prodding him will only make him dig in further, a weed rooting stubbornly into the dirt. He tells Atsumu he's stupid one more time, and then he deletes your number.

Atsumu doesn't forget, but he doesn't let himself regret, either. He has a big heart and so much love to give and for a while, he gives it to his first great love. He lets volleyball cradle him like a lover. He will be okay, he knows. It hurts that you didn't love him the way he loved you—big and deep and loud—and he mopes sometimes but he doesn't regret. He doesn't.

Until you show up at the Inarizaki reunion with another man on your arm and a plain engagement band on your finger.

You get drunk that night, even though your fiance tries to slow you down. Atsumu watches you even when he doesn't want to, his eyes drawn to you, his magnetic north. He remembers how easy it is to misjudge how sober you are—you've always held your liquor well—but he still knows you. He knows the riverbank curve of your lips, how lazy your smile goes, a current slowed. He doesn't think. He grabs the last glass one of your classmates pushes your way and downs it himself. It burns through his throat like starfire and it does the exact thing he's tried to avoid all night: being caught in your orbit.

You laugh. You protest his theft but you're amiable otherwise, smiling that same crooked little smile that shows a hint of the universe caught between your teeth. You say his name, warm and secret, the way you used to say it in the kitchen when he'd drag you away from the sink to kiss you, your hands held high and wide because your gloves were still wet and soapy. You held them high and wide and away until he kissed you more and more, until you finally, finally gave in and knotted your rubber-covered fingers into his shirt and held onto him like you were afraid you'd lose him.

(He did that more and more, towards the end. You left soaking, soapy handprints on him, and he only wished they kept their shape longer.)

Your fiance goes to get you water, a quiet plea on his face as he looks at Atsumu. Atsumu considers it—leaving. But he could never leave you like this, alone and sleepy-eyed, soft with alcohol and so terribly...something. He nods to your fiance and sits next to you. You're warm as you lean against him, a crescent moon of heat, and you fit into him as well as you did years ago. He tells you that you're stupid for getting so drunk and that you're lucky Kita isn't here to scold you and you laugh. You laugh and Atsumu still loves you.

You laugh and you sway in place, keeling like a lost little sailboat on the verge of capsizing. Atsumu pulls you toward him and into him as you list a bit further. It's a mistake. He knows it as soon as he feels the damp heat of your breath against his neck, wet like the humid lick of a heatwave in summer. He stiffens but he can't pull away. You lean into him more and rest your head in the crook of his neck and whisper, like it's a secret, like starfall burning bright and fast and fleeting: "I loved you best."

And Atsumu realizes that he fucked up.

[tonycries]

Higuruma who…can’t focus when you’re around. He can’t read past a sentence, he can’t sign his signature, he can’t even turn the page. It’s not your fault—it’s completely his. Higuruma who ultimately leaves for his home office- he defintely won’t be getting any work done in the living room…and it seems the home office is no different. Higuruma who pops his head out of the doorway and calls out to you softly, “Honey- this is completely on me, however I am a weak man, but could you perhaps go to the other side of the house so I can read this one sentence? You’re looking particularly beautiful at the moment and it’s…distracting.”

“Hiromi- I’m in sweatpants, a ratty t-shirt, and no make-up?”

“Beautiful, right?”

[kingbreaker-s]

zoro is the most miserable yearner it is really funny to me. polar opposite to luffy

[allright]

reiner highkey has a face meant for riding

[saintshigaraki]

ushiwaka is a great boyfriend to have if you’re a bit of an attention whore he’s very good at giving you his Full Attention for as long as you want it

[kuwau]

more than friends

pairing: ojiro aran x gn!reader

contains: bff!aran. cheeky aran. lots of pining. not proofread we die like men.

notes: this is incredibly self indulgent and the first thing i have written in a while so pleeeeasse be kind to me thank you xx

if you’re being honest with yourself, you know you and aran are more than just friends. it’s kind of how you’ve always been. lingering touches, glances. words that roll off the tongue a little too sweetly—too intimately—to be just friendly. you know that. but, still, there’s a part of you that isn’t sure.

you don’t even know about what. you know he enjoys being around you. he makes that clear by showing up to your door unannounced with random gifts in hand. takeout, a movie, flowers on every birthday. he always makes an effort to be near you, answer your every call, follow your every whim.

like today, when you texted him to go to another miya twins party that he—begrudgingly, you know—said yes to. (i have a game tomorrow, you know, he had said. i know, you answered, and i’ll be at that, too. pleeease? i’ll be there to pick you up in ten). and you expected nothing less from the man you’ve been locking pinkies with since the seventh grade. and he was there, true to his word, at your door in ten minutes with an extra jacket in his hand because he knows you’ll refuse to grab one for the walk home.

whatever, you think, it’s no big deal. who cares about any of it really. who cares that he’s walking back towards you at the party with another drink in a red solo you didn’t even have to ask for. who cares that he hands it to you and your fingers brush against each other for a split second. who cares that he settles by your side, slides his hand over the middle of your back as he leans in to tell you he raided atsumu’s kitchen to specially make you a vodka cran—your favorite—instead of the cheap liquor he keeps out front. who cares that your face is burning as you’re tickled by his breath on your ear as he asks if there’s anything else you need.

”no, i’m good, thanks,” you smile, turn to him with a tip of your head. “you’re too good to me.”

he laughs, and it’s deep and rumbly and strong. it blends in well with the thumps from the speakers, the low bass in his tone and the song in perfect harmony.

”nah, i ain’t too good in the least,” he waves off, finally lifting his hand from your spine. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “think i’m just right.”

you roll your eyes at that. shove him with your shoulder as your group of friends start to mingle closer around you. it’s osamu that joins the two of you first. he looks about four drinks deep and a blunt in. suna must have convinced him to try it tonight. shocker, he brought some with—you may just have to hit him up later.

”samu,” you greet, tilt up your glass to tap his and then take a sip. “lovely party as always.”

”yeah, kinda packed as shit though, ain’t it? i told tsumu to lay off on the plus one thing but he didn’t listen to me. shocker.”

a laugh bubbles out of you as you nod, and the devil himself slithers over—stumbles, more like—and flings an arm around his brother.

”friends,” he raises his glass, and you notice suna and kita not far behind him. “hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

”seems like you certainly are,” aran quips. his elbow knocks against yours as he makes room for the others. then his side, then his chest.until he’s half pressed against you like it’s natural, slotted like he’s meant to be there.

maybe it is. maybe he is.

“seems like you’re still a party pooper,” atsumu frowns, sticking his nose in the air, offense painted over his golden features.

“and you’re still a sloppy drunk.”

that does it. before you know it there’s a good hearted squabble breaking out between atsumu and aran. big boys grappling for each other and laughing as they brush and bump and shove. you take it as your cue to slip away. let the others break them up as you mosey your way through the crowd. it is a little packed in here, osamu was right after all. and you’re thinking you need a breather.

you make your way out to the patio. the temperature has dropped, now. a little too chilly for the other party goers, you assume, as you slide the glass door back shut behind you. making your way over to the railing and set down your drink. you let out a deep breath, shake your head before dropping it into your hands.

”what the fuck has gotten into me?” you mumble, low and breathy.

“talking to yourself again?”

you jump at the sound of a familiar tenor. for such a large man, aran moves so stealthily sometimes. you hadn’t even heard the door slide shut behind him.

”mhm, and what about it?” you throw back, looking over your shoulder at the man approaching you.

”anything worth hearing?” he asks, and he’s already close. is already doting. has the jacket he brought for you in hand and is slipping it over your shoulders. his hands rest there, for just a moment too long to be normal, to be chaste. your heart skips a beat, you think.

”is it ever?” you try to laugh off, but you’re met with a frown.

”always,” he denotes, leans a hand on the railing beside you.

you turn with your back to the guardrail, press against it and eye the man next to you. what are the two of you even doing? what is this thing between you? why do you care to know so badly now, after all these years? nothing’s really changed. the two of you have always been like this.

”aran.”

”(y/n).”

fuck, even the way he says your name is sickeningly sweet. it always is, always has been. you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say it with anything other than sweet adoration in all your years together. so, maybe, that’s why you’re so scared right now. maybe that’s why you find yourself twiddling with your thumbs instead of speaking.

“hey, what’s wrong? i thought you were having a good time. did i fuck up your drink?”

”no,” you laugh, small and quiet, “no the drink is great. perfect ratio, as always.”

you expect to see a wide smirk at that. aran takes pride in the things he does, especially concerning you. instead, though, you’re met with a furrowed brow and a man leaning in just a bit closer. he’s so close, you can smell the mix of musk and cologne coming off his skin. it’s good, so good. like everything else about him is.

“what’s eatin’ at ya, then?”

“it’s nothing.”

”tell me.”

”can’t you just drop it?”

”not a chance.”

”god, why are you so stubborn.”

”because i love ya.”

that, well that causes your eyes to snap up and your breath to catch. and aran is just looking at you. all leaned in and warm and sweet and normal. like he just mentioned the weather.

you think you may pass out.

”what?”

”what?” he mimics, tilts his head to the side like he’s confused. “i love you. you’re acting like i haven’t ever said that before.”

”right,” you nod, “yeah, right. sorry, i’m just..“

”just what?”

”just..” totally in love with you? fuck, what is happening? what is happening. “i don’t know. i guess i’m confused.”

”about what?” and he’s leaning in impossibly closer, you can feel the warmth radiating from him tenfold, now. he licks his lips and you think you might just curl up and die right here.

”what are we doing?”

”talking..?”

you want to hit him.

”no, aran, i mean us. what are we..” you trail off, shake your head and push yourself away from the railing. “nevermind, it’s stupid.”

but you don’t get far. no, you make it half a step before a strong arm is coming out to block you. cross over you and bring you back in to pin you once again against the railing. and then, a strong chest, pressed against yours as a hand slides up to your cheek. and suddenly, oh. oh you’re being kissed by your best friend on the back patio at the miya twins party.

and nothing has ever felt so right.

you’re breathless and stunned and you don’t know what to do with your hands except link them around aran’s neck. he’s kissing you, deep and sloppy and good. bodies pressed together and his thumb tracing circles into your cheek bone. it’s hard and numbing to your brain. his lips pull back and you pull in. you’re not done yet, not ready to let go of this moment. maybe it’s selfish and greedy and wrong, but you don’t care. you’ve been waiting for this, you realize. you’ve been waiting your whole life.

another beat or two passes and this time you have no choice but to let him pull away. you’re out of breath and gasping for it. your fingers digging into coils at the nape of his neck and your lips wet with his spit. it’s intimate, freeing, oh so good.

”i love you.” he says it like it’s always been a fact, like it always will be. and you, well, you’re prone to believe him.

“yeah,” you mumble, shy and giddy and content, “yeah, i love you, too.”

so, you’re more than friends. and maybe you’re still not sure what that totally means. but it’s enough for you. to bask in it, to revel in it. you just kissed ojiro aran.

and you’re going to do it again.

© all writing belongs to 𝐊𝐔𝐖𝐀𝐔. do not steal, plagiarize, repost or use without permission.

[staampede]

it hits when you’re not even expecting it.

just a normal day. sweatpants on. watching naruto play video games, scrolling through your messages. chatting. and chatting. and chatting some more. the words thrown around grow harsher, meaner, sharp at the edges. you feel like something is rising out of you, angry and dark and sticky. impossible to remove.

you go on a walk without a word. the goslings are waddling behind their parents this time of year, a small line formed behind the mother. a dog wanders past, looking up at you with a concerned face. animals always seem to know, don’t they? you take a swig from your water bottle. the chilly freshness washes across your organs like rainwater, but it’s not enough.

you manage to make it to the shower to sit, and thats when it all bubbles up out of you like an impossible froth, dripping down your chin and onto the bathtub’s white ceramic.

the voice in your head that never goes away.

you’re a monster.

everyone hates you.

you should just leave. it would make everyone’s lives far easier without you.

you’re annoying.

people just like to put up with you.

it prowls around your chest, claws digging into your lungs. if it were physically real, you’d be choking on your own blood, coughing and seizing in the bathtub. maybe that would be easier, a sudden and violent end. maybe that would ease the pain

instead, you cry.

you cry, and cry, and cry. big, fat tears dribble down your cheeks and you curl into a ball, knees to chest. your nails dig into your skin. you’re too much of a coward—or too smart?—to really harm yourself. but the feeling of tearing at your skin, digging into the epidermis, feels grounding. it feels familiar. just a bit of pain, yeah? just to remind you you’re still alive.

what you really want to do is rip it off. tear it all off to see what lies underneath; will it be the reddened blood and muscle of a human being? or will it be something entirely different, purpling and disgusting and miring the floor upon which you sit? is your skin your final barrier to hold the thing you carry within you back from unleashing itself?

the shower runs cold by the time the tears slow, and hitching breaths smoothen out into low, deep inhales and exhales. you manage to throw what clothes you can on, and slither into bed. eyes sliding shut, so maybe you can sleep it off.

the door cracking open after what feels like seconds has you staring anywhere but him. anywhere to not meet those gorgeous golden eyes, as he pads in and sits down next to you, brushing at your still-wet hair. you didn’t even bother brushing it. it didn’t matter.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

his voice cuts through the noise, but you don’t look. your throat feels tight, constricted. like something’s choking you, preventing you from telling the one you love how you feel monstrous. like something that is masquerading as a human being, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. how everything you manage to touch seems to not want you and not choose you.

naruto makes no sound at all, instead climbing further onto the bed, pressing his bare chest against your back. one of his arms wraps around you, the bandages a welcome, gentle scratching feeling as he holds your hand in his own. clasped so gently as if you might break.

a kiss to your temple.

“what’s wrong?” he asks again.

the words come gently, quietly.

“i wish i would believe you.”

his chest rumbles behind you as he snorts. “believe me when i say what?” he says, jokingly questioning you. but it falls flat, and he instead moves back to sitting, moving your head into his lap instead. curling over you protectively as if he can ward off the terrors around you with just his own form.

you take a breath.

“when you say i’m not a monster.”

“you’re not.”

“i—”

“you’re not.”

his insistence is childlike, but it almost makes it just that simple to believe as you finally look at him. concern dots his face, creasing his forehead and darkening his eyes as you cup his face. you don’t have any energy to cry. you feel like you’ve fought an entire war in a matter of hours, and it’s just easier to believe him.

“okay.” you say, defeated.

but of course, naruto doesn’t take that as an affirmation. his hands cup your own face, smoothening his thumbs across your cheeks. his eyes light up, oranges and yellows swirling inside his irises as he looks so deeply at you that it frightens you.

but you feel seen, nonetheless.

and that quiets things.

“you are not a monster,” he whispers, “and i will tell you every day for the rest of my life that you’re not. as long as i have to for you to believe me. and if you don’t, fine. but just trust me. trust my words. please.”

and for some reason, you accept. because someone so pure, so full of sunlight who had become so terribly monstrous in his life, assuring you that you’re not? it lifts something off of your shoulders. something you didn’t even realize you were carrying. for just a moment, the sun peeks through the darkened trees, shining its light upon the clearing of the agonized. purifying them.

you squeeze his hand, reaching up and intertwining your fingers as you kiss him.

“okay.”

[strawbaerie-faerie]

atsumu would be so sweet to you when you're upset :(

[strawbaerie-faerie]

he's subtle about it too, doesn't make a big deal out of it and doesn't push when you tell him "i'm fine" after he asks if you're okay, but he does speak a little more gently, touch you a little more softly, fingers in your hair while you sit on the couch after dinner, quiet except for the tv in the background

you don't say anything and he still doesn't ask, doesn't push, just waits until you lean into his touch a little more, watches out of the corner of his eye at the way you chew your bottom lip--it's like he can feel it in the air, the moment your walls finally come down, the barely noticeable tightness in your shoulders loosens a fraction

you sniff once, feeling the way your eyes start to sting and all of a sudden you're being pulled easily into the warmth of him, hands careful but sure as he shifts you into his lap, head on his shoulder and nose pressed to the column of his throat

he just hums comfortingly like this is what he was waiting for, and shushes you softly, lets you cry it out until he feels your breaths begin to even out again

eventually his hands find your cheeks and he pulls your face from its place against his now tear stained shoulder, eyes swimming with warm tenderness and thumbs swiping gently across your damp cheeks

"feel better?" the question is soft and you can't help but feel the weight in your chest ease when his cheek dimples with a small smile

[suguwu]

rlly love the concept of atsumu losing his entire mind the first time he sees osamu sharing his food with you because osamu won't even share his food with atsumu and he's his twin!!! his twin!!! he holds it against you for weeks—perhaps even months—before begrudgingly letting it go because he likes the way his brother's eyes light up when he sees you

(letting it go means only bringing it up every other year)

[saintshigaraki]

i feel like barou would be insecure about his massive huge large enormous cock

i don’t think insecure is the right word. i don’t think barou is insecure really about any physical feature he possesses.

i think he’s aware. he’s aware that his massive huge large enormous cock might be off putting to you. scary even. so he’s very good at assuring you that he doesn’t need to use it to make you feel so so so good. maybe you’ll want it eventually maybe you won’t. what matters to him is making sure you’re well cared for and content and satisfied.

[mintmatcha]

aizawa asking if you can 'keep your relationship quiet' and you carry this heartbreak of thinking he doesn't want everyone to know about you because he's ashamed or has another lover-

but he really just didn't want to make a big deal out of anniversaries or be super present on social media

[mintmatcha]

HE gets weird because your friends don't know about him and YOU are getting hurt because everyone keeps saying you're cute together and you just want to revel in the relationship publically.

and when you finally confront him. he's like? i said quiet not silent

[saintshigaraki]

toji number one brat enabler like you’re his baby. he can lay down the law and you both know if you push too far he will but as long as you just toe the line he’s gonna give you what you want

[cruel-hiraeth]

“I could never hate you.”

Regret momentarily flashes through Reiner’s amber irises at your words—a jolt of electricity—only for them harden in resolution as he steps back alongside Bertholdt. Slate clouds billow across the sky, the wind picking up and whipping the loose tendrils of your hair. Someone pulls you backward to relative safety, away from the impending storm. You watch, numbly, as a crack of blinding lightning strikes the man you have grown to care for—the one you are still certain cares for you.

As quickly as you exhale a shuddering breath, he transforms into the Armored Titan.

Years of memories surge forward, a nostalgic deluge, and you wonder if this is how you will die: at the hands of your first friend in the Cadet Corps. Reiner had helped you master hand-to-hand combat; learn to control your anxiety outside the wall; keep your cool atop an unruly horse. Mere hours ago, at Utgard Castle, he was your shoulder to lean on—even after he was injured—as your superiors were inevitably slaughtered by an unending horde of titans.

Though the clouds linger, the sky doesn’t cry. But you do.

Unbidden, tears roll down your cheeks as your world crashes down around you. The subsequent fight is a blur, and you’re one of the lucky few who isn’t injured during Reiner and Bertholdt’s escape with Ymir and Eren. As confused as you are, as emotionally bruised as you are, you can’t find it in yourself to be angry. Perhaps you are blinded by the past—one that is sugar-coated by affection, tainted by deceit. However, you can’t help but suspect that there’s a compelling reason behind his actions, no matter how misguided.

I could never hate you.

You meant what you said to Reiner. And you hope to find him and repeat those words, consequences be damned.