AHHHHBBBH YES

AHHHHBBBH YES

forgot to post this here last night

hey baby what you lookin at 🦄

certainly not washing machine heart by mitski of course

hubba hubba

Best Friends to Lovers Things:

big boi.

WARNINGS: Mentioned death.

Seeing them in a different way after a long time apart. 

Lingering looks.

Bed sharing, but only platonically. (Regretfully). 

Inside jokes. 

Late night [texts] 

Smiles that hurt. 

Always being each other’s +1 to any event. 

Forced proximity, that wouldn’t be such a problem if things weren’t changing between the two of you. 

Home cooked meals, made special by the other. 

Walking each other home from work. 

Falling asleep on the couch, intertwined. 

Fake-dating; either because you have to, (friends, family, a wedding, job) or because you two made an agreement when you were younger to get married. 

Having to vet the other’s SOs. 

Soft touches. A brush on the shoulder, across the waist, through the hair. 

Everyone knowing that, oh, it’s those two. 

People asking where’s the other if only one is present. 

Minted keys to each other’s apartment. 

^ (Bonus if it’s the only copy). 

Sleepovers because you're sick and they don’t want to leave.

Their parents always asking how you’re doing, and yours asking about them. 

Bets on your relationship. 

That kind of laughter that ends up like squeaking because you can’t hold it in anymore. 

Confessing your love in the worst ways. (In the middle of an argument, while in danger, in a drunken stupor, simply because you’re tired.) 

Using them as a seat, because that’s what you’re used to. 

Slow dancing. Totally platonic. 

Prom with one another. 

Spending sad anniversaries on the couch with buckets of chocolate, their arms curled around your shoulders. 

They only trust you with their problems. 

And you only have them to cry on. 

“Goodnight” and “Goodmorning” texts. 

“Did you get home safe?” texts. 

“If anything ever happens to you, call me.” 

Self-sacrificing behavior because neither of you can live without the other. 

Chiding the other while patching them up, inches away from their lips. 

When they throw themselves into danger, you’re there to pull them out. 

“Can’t sleep, come over?” 

Movie marathons. 

Hiding each other whenever you’re not supposed to be in their room, giggling.

“I can’t imagine being with anyone but you.” 

Petty jealousy. 

“Where are you?” 

Always sitting by each other in [school]. 

Fixing each other’s clothing; ESPECIALLY tying their ties, fingers brushing against their sternum. 

“I’ve wanted this forever.” 

Them being the only person who notices the small changes you make to either your appearance or house. 

Emergency contacts. 

Sleep-deprived nights because the other’s in the hospital. 

Platonic love proclamations, until they're not. 

An accidental kiss to the cheek that leaves both of you stunned. 

“I can’t keep going without telling you how I feel.” 

That awkward phase after you start dating where everything is new and you really don’t want to mess it up. 

“It’s just me.” 

The whole exaggeration about their dating. (E;g, we’ve been dating since I’ve known them.) 

“I didn’t know you loved me.” “I didn’t know you loved me.” 

Semi-protective behavior. 

Knuckle kisses that get progressively longer. 

Dreams shared in the darkness.

Working together—which means no productivity, basically. 

Playful arguments. 

Being able to resolve actual arguments because they both value the friendship too much.

“Take the bed.” “Not without you.” 

Stargazing, your head on their shoulder. 

Being there when things go bad with each other’s families. 

The “do you want to talk?” with pinched eyebrows. 

Knowing the exact shade of each other’s eyes from memory. 

Coffee trips in the middle of the day. 

Dropped off lunches. 

Random midnight snack runs. 

Nighttime road trips. 

A shared music taste and a bass that rocks the car, windows down. 

“Don’t replace me… please. I can’t lose you, too.” 

Straight-faced covering for them, even while they sneak out the backdoor behind you. 

Mutual shenanigans despite the consequences of said shenanigans. 

“Hey, what if we—” “No.” 

That first kiss that’s a tentative touch, then turns into a fervorous kiss, hands on shoulders, jaws, cheeks, squeezing their sides. 

Wanting to take their relationship slow. 

Each milestone meaning more than the last. 

Soft singing to put one another to sleep—perhaps a song that they’ve sang since childhood. 

Being ready to drop everything to go help them no matter what. 

Smiling when thinking about them [and being called out on it]. 

Objects that you have to get for them.

Board Game competition. 

Zipping up their dress, or tying their tie and fixing their cufflinks. 

Secret languages. 

“What are we?” “What do you want us to be?” 

Standing in front of them on the [train]. 

Memories that you can’t forget. 

Growing old with one another. 

Kids who they can’t decide which looks like who. 

The most outlandish anniversaries you can think of. 

“Happy That Time We Almost Died For the Second Time!” 

Communicating through simple expressions. 

And finally, the ability to trust utmost in one another. 

woah

I spent the better part of two years in bed with sorrow, and she was far from a kind lover.

Yes, she held me tight, but she was awfully jealous of joy, and I guess for the first time, I was loyal to something. She gave me many gifts, some of which I keep to this day: a coat of grief I rarely put by the door, and memories of the past that never leave my sight. Every day, she must have laid these memories out for me. Only it was strange. They were all just a little off, bent out of shape. They lacked any dullness or the idle moments that fill so much of our lives. These memories depicted a life that any man or woman would give their greatest treasures for.

So each day, with no one but sorrow at my side, I looked at what I once had and I shook. I grew to much prefer living inside the years that had long passed me by, like a summer storm that brought Ella close by my side under a sleeping bag by Six Mile Creek. Our bodies, so timid, lay shoulder to shoulder. Such an innocent time then. My heart raced, and the rain hammered down on top of us. Or a trip to Montreal, the Old City, champagne, and a king-sized bed that overlooked the carnival and Ferris wheel. New York and the lightning storms that danced outside our Williamsburg window. Mexico and the orange cat I called “Bonito.” Stumbling through the streets arm in arm, draining margaritas to justify loving each other just a little longer. Or lastly, back home that first year, laying on cold asphalt off Coddington Rd., dancing under streetlights in a snowstorm. Painted summer skies by Stewart park. Kentucky taboo and Amish baked goods.

All of these memories I have chosen to live take shelter in and I know them well. But I am beginning to forget what is true and what is comfort. Sorrow has twisted everything together in her web and now I write and I write and I write.

this is so cute im going to cry

GUYS READ ALL OF THIS PLEASE PLEASE PL–

I love when people overdescribe things they do. "guys I'm shitting rn and it came out nice and easy" like tell me more bae