Apologizing For Being Wrong After An Argument

To me, the craziest thing about this panel isn't the extremely charged handshake, nor the intense eye contact, but rather the perspective.

Furudate is really good at toying with perspective to convey the story's motifs and themes. Here, thanks to the perspective, it looks like the net is above Hinata and Kageyama, when in fact it isn't that tall. In fact, I know it's right between them. But with the way this panel was drawn, it looks like they're facing each other with an unobstructed view.

The imagery here is clear: it doesn't matter that they're on opposite sides of the net now, there's nothing keeping them apart anymore. They stand on even ground, on equal footing, face to face.

ushijima wakatoshi wasn’t a man of pda, you knew that much. it’s not that he shied away from it per se, he just... was taught to value modesty.

and that’s exactly how you got here, sitting across from him as dishes upon dishes were served on your table. steamers of xiao long bao were placed before you as he paused from eating his hot garlic ribs to thank your server.

“wakatoshi, you ordered too much... it’s only our first date as a couple,” you say, concern furrowing your brows as you looked at the table.

“that is precisely why i ordered a lot. plus, i just finished a match and i’m quite hungry. i hope you don’t mind,” he deadpans before adding a meek, “is it not to your liking?”

...well, as meek as one ushijima wakatoshi can be, anyway.

you two had just come from one of his matches and to no one’s surprise, shiratorizawa won yet again. as a reward, you offered to grab dinner with him at his favorite foreign restaurant, but you seemed to have forgotten a major key detail— wakatoshi was used to living in luxury. you’ve never even heard of this place before, that’s how fancy and niche it was.

“no, no. it’s fine! it’s your celebration, after all,” you reassure him, hoping he doesn’t take notice of your... mood.

“our celebration,” he corrects. brown eyes hold your gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were in trouble. “you finally said yes to me after months of courtship. i apologize if my schedule has not allowed me to take you out on a proper date prior to this.”

was it getting hot in here? you feel like melting under his stare. why is he so naturally intimidating?

“it’s okay. i’ve been a little busy too with requirements and whatnot,” you shy away from his eyes and begin eating.

except... oh, you don’t like that.

the flavors are too much, and your mouth feels like it’s going to explode with how powerful the taste is. did you accidentally order from the spicy section?!

ushijima must have detected your slight internal panic, because he immediately asks, “is everything okay?”

you cough out, putting on a fake smile as you nod. “mhm, all good!”

“are you certain..? you look... flustered.”

god, there he was again. wakatoshi, you’re scaring me!! you mentally yell.

“...okay, i’ve never... been here before so i just ordered whatever i thought was the most basic option on the menu.” your eyes avoid his, feeling small before him. “sorry,” you feel like a loser. hopefully he doesn’t break up with you for this.

“ah. i wish you had said that sooner. i would have explained their food and helped you choose.”

wakatoshi eyes the table before wordlessly rearranging the sequence of the dishes. he takes your plate and moves the steamer of the xiao long baos in front of you, then gently places your original dish to the xlb’s previous spot. he takes off the lid and takes one dumpling for himself.

“these are soup dumplings. i picked your favorite meat, so you should have no problem eating them,” he bites his dumpling into half as the soup leaks out from the center and into his spoon. “see?”

you look at him, then down at the dumplings before taking one for yourself and mimicking his actions. “mmh...” you nod, “that’s actually pretty good.”

“do you mind if i eat your...”

you nod enthusiastically before he can even finish. “take it, take it. i love the dumplings. woah. can i have more?”

ushijima chuckles, his chest letting out guttural breaths as his lips curved into a smile. “of course. eat as much as you’d like.”

needless to say, you and wakatoshi will definitely be coming back. who knows, maybe it could even be the start of a tradition.

atsumu post-match &&& bokuto post-match

a/n: this is still post-match right... just not courtside-immediately-after-game post match. sry lol sigh ushijima what am i supposed to do w u my nonchalant king

“you are on the couch tonight, riley!” you shout, pointing a finger toward the living room. simon stands there, his jaw clenched, hands clenched at his sides, clearly unhappy but resigned.

there’s a flicker of hurt in his eyes, masked quickly with his usual steely glare. he just nods, not saying a word, as he grabs a blanket from the closet and settles down on the couch without another look your way.

the apartment feels colder without him by your side, and the silence that follows is louder than any argument. you lie in bed, your head turned to the wall, arms crossed tightly as if that could keep out the ache creeping in.

you feel miserable, thinking over the fight, wondering if you were too harsh, if maybe he wasn’t entirely in the wrong. but you bury it, refusing to let yourself soften too quickly. this isn’t the first time you two have fought; being with simon means loving him as he is, stubbornness and all.

but tonight, it feels different. minutes stretch into hours, and you find yourself glancing at the empty side of the bed, missing his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. you turn over again, clutching the pillow tighter, but it doesn’t help.

meanwhile, simon’s on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, a sigh slipping out into the darkened room. his mind replays the fight in quiet fragments, the words that had been said, your voice still ringing in his ears.

he knows he messed up, though he’d never admit it to anyone but himself. he misses you too, even if pride keeps him rooted to the couch, where the cushions dig into his back, and sleep refuses to come.

after another endless stretch, you finally can’t take it anymore. you get up, padding softly into the living room. simon’s form is a dark silhouette against the dim light from the window, his breathing shallow, not quite asleep. he hears you but doesn’t move, as if afraid to let hope show too early.

“simon…” your voice is quiet. you see his shoulders tense before he slowly drops his arm from his eyes, looking up at you. his gaze is guarded, but there’s an unmistakable softness there, a glint of something like regret.

“can’t sleep either, huh?” he mutters, breaking the silence, his voice rough from the hours of silence.

you shake your head, and without another word, he shifts to make space. you sit beside him and lean against him, letting your head rest on his shoulder, and after a beat, his arm wraps around you, pulling you closer.

“i’m sorry baby,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper.

“me too,” you murmur, feeling the tension melt away as he holds you tighter.

neither of you says anything more. words don’t matter as much now, not when the warmth of his arm around you feels like coming home.

------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

It was too much.

The noise. The people. No personal space.

You were feeling a little more than burnt out from a weekend that was meant to be fun.

Morning walks for coffees and croissants. A few hours around the pool. A few at the beach. Riding bikes along the boardwalk. Games and rides. Eating all the food.

And it was fun, but you were tired.

Eddie was climbing into bed, your bed, with its dark bedding and soft pillows.

He yanks the hair tie out of his hair, dark curls falling from the bun it was in from the drive home, tossing it on the bedside table.

“Feels so good to be home,” he sighs as he sinks into the pillows, meeting your eyes with a smile lighting up his face.

Pulling the socks off your feet, you crawl into bed, immediately gluing yourself to his side.

Eddie pulls the warm comforter over you both, keeping his other arm tight around you.

Digging your face into his chest, you breathe in the scent there, Sandalwood mixed with something that is all Eddie, soothing the racing thoughts and nerves.

You tangle your leg with his, hooking your ankle in place. Your hand slides under his hoodie, traveling over his soft tummy and dusting of hair, making its way to where his heart beats steadily.

You close your eyes and feel the thumpthumpthump, breathing in time to the rhythm.

Silence fills the air for a while before Eddie breaks it with a gentle whisper.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you hum your reply as you lift your head slightly, bumping his chin like a cat seeking affection.

You press a kiss to his chest before laying your head back down, running a hand over the space where his heart lies, playing with the hairs there.

“If you wanted to get your hands on me, all you had to do was ask,” he mutters with sleep filling his voice and a goofy smirk on his face.

You shove him playfully as he giggles deliriously, the lack of good sleep over the weekend finally hitting him.

He drifts off not even five minutes later, gentle snores leaving him with the occasional sigh.

With one final press into him, wishing you could crawl into his skin, to really be one with him, you close your eyes.

Hoping to meet him in the dream world.

They’re loud in the living room.

Hinata, curled happily with a bag of chips on the floor, adjacent to Bokuto and Atsumu sat sprawled out on the couch, while Kiyoomi was as collected as could be on the free cushion, hands folded in his lap with his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes followed the plays on screen. You watch as they cheer and hoot at the saves and spikes, groaning when one team scores and cheering when theirs does.

It’s a scene that you’d love to see over and over again.

It’s also a scene you love to mess the serenity of.

“Sakusa,” you call from your perch in the doorway, and immediately, all heads whip to you. Kiyoomi tenses up, Atsumu sits up straight and Bokuto blinks owlishly, and from the floor, Hinata’s head cocks to the side in interest. “Can you come here for a sec?”

Childishly, the other three men offer him a collective “oooo,” to which your boyfriend scowls at. He quickly gets onto his feet and makes his way into the kitchen with you, panic on his features.

“Is everything okay?” He asks.

You nod, “yes. Can you reach that bowl up there?”

Immediately, Kiyoomi reaches up and grabs the bowl on the high shelf, bringing it down before cradling it to his chest, “I put this bowl here; is that why you’re mad?”

“I’m not mad,” you say simply.

“You called me Sakusa,” he pouts in fear. “You don’t call me sakusa. They do.”

“But that’s your name?”

“Not to you,” he says. “No, no- you call me the utmost feral things you can call someone, yet now you want to be formal, I don’t like that. What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, just give me the bowl,” you say, finding slight amusement at this charade. He winces and slowly passes you the bowl, but when you open your mouth to thank him, he immediately wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a kiss, the bowl pressing between you. You merely giggle as he pulls back to sponge kisses on your face.

“I’m sorry,” he says between kisses. “Tell me what I did wrong.” He follows with another kiss. “I never want to make you mad.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you I love you I love you-“

“Okay!” You giggle. “I know you do!”

“Say it back,” he grumbles.

You roll your eyes and cup his cheeks, making him look at you while you press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I love you. I promise I’m not mad.”

“You’re not? You’re sure?”

“I was messing with you, my love,” you snort. Then, you nod towards the door, “you guys can’t be the only ones having fun tonight. I have to keep you on your toes.” You gently poke his stomach, grinning as he yelps and moves away. When your eyes flick to the doorway, there’s three curious heads watching the scene unfold. Two of them watch happily- the blonde one looks more than mischievous as he absorbs this new level of blackmail.

You smile and kiss his cheek, “go, watch your game with the boys. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

“Okay,” he sighs, voice much lighter than moments before. You watch as all three heads dash from the doorway to go back to the couch, swift to avoid Kiyoomi’s wrath. “I love you.” He takes a step back, “love you. I love you!” He makes his way to the threshold, “I love you!”

“I love you too,” you chuckle back.

“I love you twice as much!”

“GOD, YOU HAVE GUESTS OVER!” Atsumu gags.

“You’re just bitter because you can’t get a text back,” Kiyoomi hisses, and you can’t help but laugh at the switch from baby voice to stern, firm voice. He flashes you a wink before making his way back to the couch, and when you peek out at the furniture again, he’s in a headlock by Bokuto, his hair being ruffled in a way you know he’s going to complain about later.

Half heartedly, of course.

Cuddling with Eddie on the couch during a cold winter night watching some movies and despite being wrapped in his arms with a blanket covering the both of you, you still feel cold.

Eddie’s wearing one of his oversized band shirts that he had accidentally picked out thinking it would be a tight fit, but for some reason the size ran differently than normal band tees, and of course he loved it too much to return it after trying it on at home because it was the only size they had left.

Since you were still cold, an idea came to you that you knew would warm you right up. Eddie’s body always gave off heat, no matter how warm or cold it was outside, so you used that to your advantage.

You lifted your head where you had it laying against his chest and shuffled a few inches downward so you could lift the hem of his shirt up to stick your head underneath and press your cold face against his warm, bare chest.

Eddie raised his eyebrows at your sudden action, letting out a soft laugh of amusement. “What are you doing, silly girl?”

“M’still cold. Need your warmth to warm up my face.” You murmured as you nuzzled your cheek against him some more to bask in his warmth, earning a wide grin from your boyfriend.

“God, you’re adorable. You know that?” He beamed, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Uh huh.” You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “I love you, Baby.”

“I love you.”

Just a random thought that came to me that I wanted to share 🖤 We love space heater boyfriend!Eddie in this household 🥰

---------♡

Eddie Munson loves it when you play with his hands.

The feeling of your warm skin against the coldness of his makes him shudder with a certain desperation every single time. He made sure to keep your hand in his to keep being your fidget toy.

You caress and bend his fingers at your will and he smiles at you in adoration, the kind of loving look you see in movies. You trace his veins sometimes letting the journey of your fingertips lead you to his shoulders and trace around the lightly freckled skin there, again it makes him shudder, he shivers in a way only you can make him.

When you travel your way back to his hand you let yourself press your thumbs into his calloused palm and he groans, you snap your head up to his letting your wide eyes catch his brown ones and he offers you a smile letting you know to continue.

He nods off feeling an undeniable comfort.

Eddie loves when you play with his hands.

Or maybe Eddie just loves you.

gn//f//m reader, fluff, established rl

sukuna who quietly takes up a hobby of pottery and slowly leaves his trinkets around his house :(

it starts small. a tiny figurine, barely the size of your thumb, placed on your nightstand without a word. it's your cat, belly perfectly round, little paws tucked in, an expression so accurately grumpy that you almost think it’s store-bought. but no, the slightly uneven texture and the faint grooves of fingers along its back give it away—this was handmade.

then come the plates. at first, just quarter plates for the both of you. then bigger ones. serving bowls. one day, a dish so enormous appears on the dining table that you stare at it in horror.

"who are we feeding, the entire neighborhood?"

"your fatass cat," sukuna grumbles, arms crossed, but the corners of his lips twitch. "he won’t eat out of anything else now." and sure enough, your cat is sitting beside it, looking absolutely smug, tail flicking as if to say, "finally, a bowl befitting my stature."

the jewelry tray appears next, a shallow ceramic dish with a slight tilt because, as he explains, he’s still "figuring out how to make the damn things symmetrical." you paint it gold and pink, his least favorite colors, just to be annoying. he doesn’t complain. "not bad," he mutters, picking it up to inspect. "at least it ain't neon green."

but it’s the ashtray that really gets you. shaped into a heart, of all things. you stare at it for a good minute before looking at him, one brow raised. "shut up," he says before you can even speak.

"i didn’t say anything."

"you were thinking it."

you paint the heart ashtray a gaudy red and put tiny, illegible gold lettering across the rim that just barely resembles the words kiss the chef. when he notices, he lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "you're real lucky i like you," he mutters, flicking ash into it without hesitation.

the funniest thing is how he never makes a fuss when you accidentally break one of his pieces. you nearly cry when you chip one of the quarter plates, apologizing profusely, but he only shrugs.

"eh, i’ll just make another one."

"but it took you weeks—"

"yeah, yeah, and i’ll do it again." he nudges your forehead with a clay-stained knuckle. "quit looking so guilty, brat. it just means i get to see you smile over a new one."

you do. every time. <3

reader who can’t stand satoru but then he gets hit by a curse that turns him into a cat. you find him, to his dismay, and take him home, only for him to realize how different you are when he isn’t around to pester you.

at first, he causes a lot of trouble. breaking things in your house, tearing up the pillows. he just wants to be a human again, but nobody can understand him! but you still take care of him and coddle him no matter how much trouble he causes, so different from how people treat him normally, as if he were a nuisance (which he kind of was on purpose). and he finds himself falling for you without realizing it.

so he stops being a bad cat, steadily losing hope that he’ll ever be human again. and satoru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy how you stroked him while you read a book or let him sleep beside you at night. maybe it wasn’t so bad? so he decided then if he was going to be just a cat, he was fine with being your cat.

the higher-ups had taken note of his absence, obviously, and he only knows cause you’ve mentioned it to him. you had this endearingweird quirk where you’d talk to him as if he were a real person.

throughout his stay in your home as a house pet, satoru finds out a lot about you. you’ve always kept to yourself, but you vent your frustrations out to him while he’s like this, and he offers his comfort the best he can. which you appreciate, rewarding him with kisses that he secretly enjoys.

once he turns human again, by some miracle, his first thought is to go and find you. and when he does, you give him the cold shoulder like you used to, and it surprises him. before he realizes that, ah, he wasn’t your pet anymore. he was gojo satoru.

satoru realizes his feelings for you in that moment. when he feels the ache in his chest from your dismissive behavior, it leads him to starting his most important mission yet—winning your heart once more.

but this time, it’ll be as a person, not a damn cat.

boyfriend!kirishima who makes you his whole personality — it's honestly sickening how obsessed he is with you, and he doesn't even try to hide it. every conversation circles back to you somehow.

boyfriend!kirishima who never misses a chance to call you beautiful, no matter where you are or what you're doing. you could be in pajamas with messy hair, brushing your teeth, or covered in food — and he's still looking at you like you're the most radiant thing he's ever seen.

boyfriend!kirishima who gets ridiculously excited when he finds something that reminds him of you. he’ll send you twenty-five blurry photos of a weird-shaped rock because “it kinda looks like your cat” and he’s already named it. it's now living on his shelf. it's part of the family.

boyfriend!kirishima who insists on carrying your bags, opening every door for you, holding your hand when you cross the street — even if it's just a parking lot. proving chivalry isn't dead.

boyfriend!kirishima who sends you gym selfies, but not just any selfies — specifically of his biceps, flexing hard, with a cheeky caption like “thinking of you 💪❤️” because he knows you love it (and he lives to impress you).

boyfriend!kirishima who, when ordering for you or talking about you in public, casually refers to you as his wife. “yeah, my wife would love the fries” or “oh, my wife showed me that!” and he doesn’t care if people correct him — you’re his forever in his heart, so why wait?

boyfriend!kirishima who’s never afraid to try anything you suggest. even if he’s deathly afraid of heights, if you say you want to skydive, he’s already booking it with trembling hands and saying “as long as i’m with you.”

boyfriend!kirishima who checks in regularly throughout the day. little texts like, “don’t forget to drink water, okay?” and “you’ve got this. i’m so proud of you.” he sends affirmations like they’re love notes, because he wants to be the voice in your head that reminds you you’re doing amazing.

boyfriend!kirishima who lets you talk his ear off about anything and everything. even when you think he’s distracted, he’s soaking up every word, remembering little details to bring up later just to see your face light up.

boyfriend!kirishima who always talks about the future like it’s already decided — you and him, together. “once we’re living together, we can get a dog?” “maybe we can paint our bedroom that color.” he never lets you forget that he sees you in every part of his life.

boyfriend!kirishima who makes you the sweetest, most thoughtful diy gifts. a jar full of reasons he loves you, all handwritten. matching bracelets he stayed up all night making because he wanted them to be perfect. things that take time, effort, and love — because that’s how he loves you: completely.

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