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theharrowing · 7 months ago

Text

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Hoseok

Hoseok lets Seokjin break him a little before he picks of the pieces between the family men. Handling everyone's bullshit is a full-time job, but Hoseok does it well.

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❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Seokjin x Hoseok

🗡️ word count: 6.8k

🗡️ mafia au, established relationship, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: bottom & submissive Hoseok, top & dominant Seokjin; i don't know if i need to include "bathing one's lover" but idk it feels like a warning bc it's somewhat erotic and feels a little like body worship; shower sex (hair tugging; rough blowjob; use of the word "whore"; using anal toys to stretch oneself; rough anal sex against the wall; cum getting everywhere; mention of safeword; Seokjin's dirty talk is kind of nuts; ass eating; cum eating; a touch of aftercare); mention of drug running activities, creation of weapons, and the acquisition of firearms. some poolside making out.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! more slice of life, mafia style! this takes place so long ago, it feels cute revisiting this point of the story. enjoy!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - with minor unbeta’d edits done since.

🗡️ posted april 2024 - originally may 2023 | read on ao3

Hoseok's morning begins the way they often do: waking up moments before Seokjin's alarm blares. He blinks awake slowly and stretches his arms over his head, rolling away from the body over which his arm and leg had been draped, and onto his back, tugging their blood-red comforter as he moves.

A small whine escapes Hoseok's lips as his muscles tug through the stretch—a gentle hint of discomfort blending with sweet release—and as he lets out a slow, peaceful huff of air, the shrill sound of an alarm screams, making Hoseok wince.

With a grumble, Seokjin reaches and shuts the alarm off, then he rolls onto his back and quickly onto his side, wrapping all his limbs around Hoseok with his eyes barely open. Hoseok feels a warm, deep affection as Seokjin's naked body engulfs his, and he buries his face into Hoseok's neck. The hot breath that wafts from Seokjin's lips tickles enough to make Hoseok grumble and attempt to shove away despite not wanting to leave the tight warmth of his embrace.

"Ho-wah," Seokjin mutters, a familiar nickname that is hardly passable as a word, and Hoseok hums in response. "What are you doing today?"

Now that Seokjin is settled, Hoseok hooks his legs around an ankle and a hip, and he relaxes with his eyes closed while he hums once more, a long pensive sound as he considers all that he has to do today. It is not much, but events and meetings within the family rarely go as planned.

"Gotta meet Ggukie," Hoseok responds through a yawn, making Seokjin yawn, as well. "And then Namjoon. Yoongi and the cub are taking the terror twins to the gun range, so the only person unaccounted for is Jimin."

"Ah, Jiminah," Seokjin grumbles, "what has he been up to?"

"Working," Hoseok responds, though he is not entirely certain. Jimin tends to be the outlier within the family, pursuing his own goals and staying out of trouble as best as he can. It is rare that he requests assistance from any of them. "Perhaps playing. Who knows."

"I miss him," Seokjin says after a few silent seconds. "We should have him back here soon."

"You miss him, or you miss his ass?" Hoseok asks playfully.

Seokjin chuckles as he mutters, "Same thing," with a shrug.

Hoseok supposes he misses Jimin, too. The thought had not occurred before, but now that he is faced with it, he concedes. Jimin is good company, and the way his body melts in tandem with his and Seokjin's really is something special. Not to mention, his pain tolerance is impressive.

"What about you?" Hoseok asks, using his leg to pull Seokjin's leg impossibly closer. "Anything not too unspeakable on the docket?"

"Meeting with Yoongi later," Seokjin says simply, and Hoseok nods in understanding, knowing that more information likely will not come. He adds, "A brief meeting. He might have to go to Hong Kong to chat with The Tigers, so we are finalizing some details."

Hoseok is only somewhat aware of the goings on in Hong Kong with the new guys, having been given the same information as everyone else, which is that Yoongi is going to be using another crew to handle some of the tasks he is no longer interested in being in charge of. Chiefly, drug running, which Hoseok is tasked with having a conversation with Jeongguk about later. If there is one thing the youngest hates, it is change.

"Shall we?" Seokjin grumbles as he begins an attempt to roll away, but Hoseok pulls him close and hugs him tighter.

"We shall not," he whines, taking his turn burying his face in Seokjin's neck to breathe in the faintly soft musk of his skin and hair. "I still have an hour, and you evidently have nothing for a while. Stay here a bit longer."

With a burst of mocking laughter, Seokjin says, "If you want me to fuck you, just say so," and although it was not necessarily what Hoseok had in mind, the idea does excite him.

"Gotta be quick," Hoseok warns; Seokjin loves to take his time and, frankly, an hour is nowhere near long enough.

"Are you being bossy, puppy?" Seokjin responds in a sharp tone, sending a chill through Hoseok that makes his breath fall ragged.

"No, sir," Hoseok responds automatically, body relaxing as Seokjin begins to pull away from their embrace.

"How about we fuck in the shower?" Seokjin offers, voice soft and sweet, giving Hoseok's heart whiplash. "That way we can take care of both activities at once."

Hoseok likes the idea—thrilled at the prospect of having his cheek pressed against cold, hard tile as Seokjin knocks every last bit of air from his lungs.

"Yes, please," he mutters, thrilled when Seokjin sits up and pushes the blanket from the two of them, making Hoseok shiver from the air on his bare skin.

Seokjin swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and lifts his phone briefly from the bedside table, presumably to check for notifications, then he gets up and walks past the length of the bed and around the end toward the ensuite. Hoseok stretches once more before following behind, feet touching down onto a soft burgundy rug over which he wiggles his toes before quickly joining Seokjin.

He shivers when he reaches the en suite and his toes hit cold, white tile, and he quickly prances to the shower stall where Seokjin is busying himself with turning on the various overhead nozzles.

With his toes on another soft red rug, Hoseok stands and crosses his hands in front of him, arms hanging relaxed, waiting to be instructed. He loves handing over control even before they have begun to do anything. It excites him.

"Puppy?" Seokjin calls as water sprays from above and steam fills the pristine white-tiled room.

"Yes, sir," Hoseok responds softly.

Seokjin reaches for a pale pink exfoliating cloth that hangs just to his right, then holds it below a bottle that sits on a waist-high shelf set into the tiled wall and pumps a dollop of clear soap onto it.

"Come," Seokjin says.

Hoseok obeys, stepping into the steamy room to join Seokjin, standing behind him. He takes the towel and begins to wash Seokjin's neck and throat—slowly but thoroughly—before working his way down to Seokjin's shoulders. He washes the right arm first, then the left, making sure to get in between each finger and use his thumbnail to clean under each of Seokjin's fingernails.

Something about bathing his love always feels so ritualistic and calming, and it brings him comfort knowing that Seokjin enjoys it, too.

Where Seokjin stands, there is a small pad that is suctioned to the floor, and as Hoseok makes his way down Seokjin's back and torso, to his legs, he slowly sinks to his knees. He tends to the right leg and then the left, lathering soap and getting lower and lower until Seokjin lifts each foot one at a time for him to wash.

Hoseok stays on his knees as Seokjin steps away to rinse off, and when he returns stroking his pretty, thick length, Hoseok tosses the rag aside, clasps his hands behind his back, and sits up tall to open his mouth like the obedient puppy he is. Without a word, Seokjin takes Hoseok by the back of the head, gripping firmly to his hair, and slides his cock into his mouth.

The weight of Seokjin on his tongue, stretching the corners of his lips, feels like home, and Hoseok sighs happily, fighting the urge to let his eyelids flutter closed. Seokjin likes it when Hoseok keeps his gaze wide on him, and as mist from the shower gets into his eyes, he blinks it away, letting it blend with his building tears.

Seokjin fucks Hoseok's mouth, hitting his throat so rhythmically, Hoseok does his best to swallow around him to build his pleasure as quickly as he can. And it does the trick, making Seokjin squeeze and tug at his hair. Under enough pressure, Hoseok can make Seokjin cum in under five minutes—sometimes even three—and he does his best to press his luck, forgoing breathing until it makes him gag.

With a deep, needy groan, Seokjin pulls out, gripping Hoseok's hair enough to hurt, and Hoseok smirks as best as he can with his mouth hanging open and his tongue lolled out. Anger and arousal burn in Seokjin's gaze, which is precisely what Hoseok wants.

"Trying to make me cum already?" Seokjin groans, yanking on Hoseok's head, making him gasp and grin as he nods.

"Yes, sir."

"Such a greedy little whore."

"Yes, sir."

Without warning, Seokjin shoves his cock back into Hoseok's mouth and slams it deep, causing his throat to constrict and attempt to gag. Hoseok lurches as he breathes through it, doing his best to let the air pass through his nose while his eyes pool with tears. His hands clench and flex behind his back, and he blinks, keeping his eyes as wide as he can manage while Seokjin leers down at him.

"If you're so eager to make me cum, then do it. Let's see how fast you are."

Seokjin pulls out, giving Hoseok a chance to heave in air, and then slides himself back into his throat, setting a quick pace of fucking as deep as he can. Hoseok relaxes his jaw and attempts to swallow around him, fluttering his muscles somewhat frantically. It is not his best work, but it is honest work, causing Seokjin to squeeze his hair and rut unevenly against his face.

It takes no time at all for Seokjin to unravel, and Hoseok hums and moans to vibrate his throat around him, causing Seokjin's own hums and moans to grow louder and more desperate.

"So good," Seokjin whimpers, "fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Hoseok loves these tiny moments of hearing Seokjin becoming completely gone. His voice cracks and breaks, and his body spasms, handing full control for a few glorious seconds over to Hoseok, who takes over, eagerly sucking him off until his hair is being squeezed so hard, the pain in his scalp is white-hot.

Without another word, Seokjin cums, trembling as spurt after spurt of release hits Hoseok's tongue and trickles down his throat. He does his best to swallow in order to avoid the sensation tickling too much, and he continues to suck until Seokjin is overstimulated and muttering for him to stop.

"Up," Seokjin commands, voice fucked up and weak as he tugs roughly at Hoseok's hair. "Stretch yourself for me. I want to watch."

Hoseok gets up with a groan, knees having grown accustomed to being bent against the cushion, then he takes his place against the wall, face pressed into cold tile as he uses both hands to spread himself wide and prod at his hole for Seokjin's amusement. There is a shelf to his right dedicated to Hoseok's stretching ritual, and he wastes no time squirting lube onto a metal toy and working himself open with it, hissing and moaning from the stretch.

Seokjin rubs his hands up and down Hoseok's thighs all the while, squeezing at the soft flesh and cooing at him for being so pretty and perfect, all for him.

Once Hoseok is stretched around the toy—legs trembling fiercely—Seokjin stands and takes his place behind him, cock hard once more and ready for him. Hoseok loves days like these, when they do not have time to fully, properly prep him before they fuck. He loves the intense, blinding sting of Seokjin working him open, forcing him to accommodate his size.

The pain is so intense Hoseok holds his breath, quickly becoming lightheaded from the steam that wafts around him, frantically placing the toy back onto the shelf where it lives. He could die just like this and be the happiest man in hell.

"Too fucking tight," Seokjin groans against Hoseok's neck, shoving him against the tile wall as he trusts into him way too soon for it to feel good.

Hoseok lets out a weak, "Ah!" dragging his lips against the wall, which is streaked with droplets of condensation from their forgotten shower.

"No matter how much I fuck this little hole, you are always so god damn tight."

Hoseok's hands slide up to rest against the wall beside his ribs, and he digs his fingertips against the grout between tiles, desperate for purchase of any kind. But it is senseless; there is nothing to get a grip of once Seokjin sets a pace and begins using him properly; all Hoseok can do is chase his own high and hope he does not fall.

He has never fallen, yet; Seokjin would never let him.

With a slam of his hips, Seokjin knocks what is left of the air from Hoseok's lungs, forcing Hoseok's cock to uncomfortably hit the wall. The squeeze between his body and cold tile is painful—just as he likes it.

Seokjin sets a punishing pace working Hoseok open, making his screams and sobs echo loudly through the room. The white noise from the shower running behind him causes Hoseok to zone out and fall pliant for Seokjin, who allows him to rest his head back against his shoulder.

Seokjin is merciless with the way he fucks, sending waves of pleasure-pain rocking through Hoseok's body, from the base of his neck down through his fingertips and toes. Hoseok's sobs become voiceless gasps and hisses, and he closes his eyes, letting all the world fade away, leaving only himself and the ruthless, wet slam of Seokjin's hips.

Without warning, Seokjin reaches around and begins to tug at Hoseok's cock, making him scream—ripped from his warm, floaty euphoric place back to reality far too soon. It only takes a few strokes to send Hoseok to the edge, forcing him to paint the tile with his release, and then Seokjin shoves him against the tile to slide against his own goopy cum while he continues.

It is absolutely disgusting the way Hoseok's torso becomes covered in sticky release. How he manages to shoot it so high up is beyond him, but he can feel the cum against his chest, causing him to slide up and down the wall.

The painful squeeze of overstimulation takes over suddenly, and Hoseok begins to claw once more at the thin strips of grout, desperate for relief. But relief does not come—not yet. Seokjin uses him past the point of overstimulation, mocking and cooing while Hoseok begs him to finish.

"Please," Hoseok squeals as Seokjin's cock drills him painfully hard and deep, "please, it's too much. I can't—sir, I can't! Cum for me, please, please!"

Sir, I can't is not Hoseok's safeword, and his pleas go ignored, falling on deaf ears.

Rather, Seokjin just encourages him to keep screaming.

"Fuck, listen to your desperation, baby. That is gonna make me cum. Keep begging me to stop. You sound so fucking good."

The urge to revolt and become petulant rises despite the pleasure that courses through him, and the heightened emotions assist with causing his cock to expand once more. At this rate, if Seokjin manages to pull a second and third orgasm from him, Hoseok will surely be lost to the world for the rest of the day, and he needs to be coherent to meet with Jeongguk.

But reasoning with the man while he is balls-deep and mocking him is impossible. And Hoseok would be unable to find the words, anyway, already having used up his last few working brain cells to attempt to beg his lover to cum.

"Sir," he mutters mindlessly between loud sobs, instead, "please. Pleasepleaseplease."

"Sounds so pretty when you cry," Seokjin coos gently as his hips rut hard and fast.

Seokjin's fingers hold tightly to Hoseok's hips, undoubtedly adding to the dots of bruises already there. If Hoseok had more wits about him, it may even hurt a little to have Seokjin dig into past marks, but instead, the area is hot and tingling, feeling a bit numb.

"You're lucky we don't have all morning," Seokjin groans against Hoseok's neck, dragging his lips and teeth over the skin, sending a shiver down his back. "You're lucky I can't use you until you really are begging me to stop. I would gladly fuck this tight little asshole until you are inside out and falling a-fucking-part."

God, Hoseok loves it when Seokjin becomes sadistic, saying the most deranged shit while buried deep inside him. He practically changes his tune and begs him to fuck him until he is completely broken, never to be used again. He feels exhilarated and incapable of being reasoned with.

Seokjin yanks Hoseok's ass back, pulling him off the wall, and ruts impossibly faster, causing Hoseok's back to arc, frozen in pleasure while he trembles from the pain. Hoseok does his best to stay in place, feet planted on a little mat below so that he does not slide, and Seokjin uses him until his hips become uneven and he fills him with his release.

The sound of Seokjin moaning echoes loudly off the walls, voice pitchy and ripped to shreds. Hands caress Hoseok's sides and back, over his shoulders and down his arms, and affection blooms throughout him as Seokjin's hips quake and he pulls out.

As the hands slide down to Hoseok's hips and ass, Hoseok widens his stance and presses his chest once more into the wall, shivering as his skin hits the cold, hard surface. Seokjin spreads him wide and begins eating him out, licking, sucking, and prodding at his hole, pushing Hoseok close to his second orgasm.

Seokjin is loud as he devours him, slurping and humming as if his own cum is the most delicious meal he has ever had. And when Seokjin is finished, he takes Hoseok by the hips and spins him around, making Hoseok giggle as he stumbles until his ass hits tile and his cock is swallowed whole.

The sensation makes Hoseok double over, placing his hands on Seokjin's shoulders for stability. Seokjin wastes no time sucking like his life depends on it, squeezing his cheeks tight and pushing Hoseok deep into his throat. Hoseok is unable to find the words of warning, voice breaking on scrambled vowels and consonants as he shoots his cum into his boyfriend's throat.

When Seokjin releases his spent cock and sits back on his knees, Hoseok finally lets out a large gust of breath he had been holding onto. He feels exhausted and used in all the best ways, hole achingly empty.

Seokjin gets onto his feet, grabs a blue cloth from the wall, and lathers it with soap, then begins to wash Hoseok much the same way Hoseok had washed him earlier. His movements are a bit rushed, but he is thorough, and for that, Hoseok is grateful. He really could stand in this shower all day and bask in the attention of his lover. What a shame he has to meet with Jeongguk so early.

* * *

Dressed in his standard blacks, Hoseok makes his way to Jeongguk’s front step, taking the steel door knocker in his fist and firmly slamming it into the door three times. He is six minutes behind schedule, but only Seokjin and Yoongi care about tardiness. And anyway, he sent Jeongguk a text when he left to let him know he was on his way.

Jeongguk opens the door just enough to unlock it, and Hoseok places a palm over the dark wood and presses forward, letting himself in.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jeongguk grumbles as he walks quickly from the door toward the kitchen. He wears a long black tee and black joggers, and his hair is a wild, dark mess.

Hoseok snickers and kicks from his shoes, curious whether Taehyung is lurking somewhere. Then he makes his way through the mostly empty space, past a couch that is shoved too close to the television for anyone to actually sit at, and the punching bag that takes up the center of the room. He finds the youngest at the stove, stirring something.

“Have you eaten?” Jeongguk asks without glancing over his shoulder.

Hoseok grabbed a bite of a blueberry muffin that Seokjin had been enjoying before leaving, but otherwise, he had not found the time to have breakfast.

“I have not.”

“Good,” Jeongguk responds, continuing to stir.

The smell of peppers, onions, and butter wafts into his senses as he slowly and carefully has a seat at Jeongguk’s dining table. His stomach growls loudly.

“I wanted to have it done before you got here, but I was…uh…distracted.”

“Is your distraction still here?” Hoseok teases, curious because he is unsure whether Taehyung has clearance to overhear their conversation.

“He went home,” Jeongguk simply responds as he begins plating the food.

Hoseok sits back in the wooden chair and watches as Jeongguk takes out two glasses for water and one for coffee. He fills the coffee cup, leaving it black the way Hoseok likes it, and brings it over while cradling two water glasses in his other hand.

“I can help you,” Hoseok offers, knowing Jeongguk does not accept help but eager to be polite.

“You relax, hyung,” Jeongguk insists as the drinks are set down, and he returns to the counter where the plates have been left, carrying one in each hand.

Jeongguk has made omelets with a scoop of rice and kimchi on the side, and Hoseok watches with bated breath as the plate is set before him, picking up utensils, eager to dig in.

“Eat well,” Jeongguk says as he rounds the table and takes the seat in front of him.

Once Jeongguk is settled down, Hoseok digs in. He wonders if, in another life, Jeongguk would have taken up cooking as a profession. Everything is seasoned perfectly and cooked just right, as always.

“This is amazing, Ggukah,” Hoseok mutters with a mouthful of food, chasing it back with a gulp of perfectly brewed coffee. “Thank you.”

Jeongguk hums in response, eating quickly, as if his life depends on it. It is always this way with Jeongguk—he always seems in some great rush to finish his food.

Hoseok, on the other hand, takes his time, savoring each bite while waiting for Jeongguk to be ready to talk. When the youngest finally does shove his plate away with a satisfied groan, Hoseok pats at the sides of his mouth with his white cloth napkin and places it gently beside his half-empty plate.

“About this transition of duties,” Hoseok begins, winning him a petulant whine from across the table that makes him chuckle softly. He decides to tease the guy, instead. “Are you really this sour about giving up drug running?”

“It’s not about the drugs,” Jeongguk insists for what he clearly believes to be the hundredth time, based on the dramatic look of exasperation that he pulls. “It’s about—“

“The principle of the thing,” Hoseok interrupts, taking the words from Jeongguk’s lips. “You will have more responsibilities as one of Yoongi’s right hands.”

“I'm sure he needs more right hands since his current one is busy fucking his fiancée,” Jeongguk grumbles, not missing a beat.

Hoseok cannot hold back the laughter that bursts from his chest, winning him a glare from across the table. Jeongguk's audacity never fails to crack Hoseok up.

“His fake fiancée,” Hoseok corrects as he lifts his coffee to his lips and savors a warm, bittersweet gulp.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clearly already fed up with this conversation. And Hoseok cannot blame him; things seemed fine before Yoongi set his sights on the cub. Why he decided to complicate their lives and hers is still beyond him. The money her ex owes him is hardly enough to be concerned over—certainly less than they usually shake a man down for.

“Namjoon still performs all his duties,” Hoseok continues, feeling a sudden urge to defend his friend.

He really does feel for Namjoon—the man is so desperately in love with Yoongi, and he did struggle at first with feelings of being replaced when their little darling moved in, especially when he had to start sleeping in his own bed again. “Yoongi is simply tired of being a drug lord. He makes enough to afford a middle man, and The Tigers are a good fit.”

The Tigers are a group currently operating out of Hong Kong. Should they accept the responsibilities of Yoongi’s drug operations, they would have income flooding in. Two of their associates are stationed in Taiwan, tripling their efforts. All of this has been explained to Jeongguk, of course, yet he refuses to listen.

“I could use a hand with weapons,” Hoseok says, trying a new tactic of swaying him. Truth be told, he really could use some help with both the acquisition of firearms, the building of incendiaries, and other pleasure projects. Ryujin has been a bit too quiet these days, and if she gets word about Hyunjin, they may need to be prepared for anything.

Jeongguk hums, nodding once while avoiding eye contact, the way he does when there is something on his mind. Hoseok has an idea of what may be bothering him, but he waits to see if he will spit it out while he has a couple more bites of his cold breakfast.

When he does not, Hoseok chases the food with water and asks, “What is it?” before shoveling more food into his mouth. Jeongguk really is a phenomenal cook.

“I just…” Jeongguk begins.

Then he finally lifts his face, and Hoseok sees all essence of the man stripped away, leaving behind the wide-eyed boy he knew back when he joined the family. The look in Jeongguk's eye is one of worry, making Hoseok’s heart ache, and he sets his utensils down and places his hands in his lap.

“Nobody is replacing you, Jeonggukah.”

Jeongguk frowns. “That’s not—“

“Are you sure?”

With a sigh, Jeongguk shakes his head. Then he points his gaze, squinting at Hoseok.

“Has Seokjin hyung told you something?”

This makes Hoseok chuckle, further furrowing Jeongguk’s brow.

“Jeonggukah, Seokjin is not conspiring anything. I know you tend to be wary of him, but although there are plenty of things only he knows, he is not hiding anything.”

“Hmm,” Jeongguk responds, folding his arms over his chest. “We’ll see.”

With that, Jeongguk leaves the room, and Hoseok cracks a smile before finishing his plate of food. The sound of velcro adjusting cuts through the silence of the room, and Hoseok savors the final bites of omelet and kimchi. Then he drinks back the rest of the coffee and leaves the dining space to join Jeongguk.

He hears the sounds of glove-clad fists hitting a punching bag before he sees Jeongguk boxing—hopping lightly from foot to foot and pretending to dodge between punches.

“I meant it when I said I could use help,” Hoseok calls loud enough to be heard over Jeongguk’s fists striking leather.

Jeongguk says nothing, but Hoseok can see in his eyes that he is considering the offer. The man is smart and having someone like him on his team would be invaluable.

And, perhaps with his closeness in proximity, Hoseok can help the guy cope a little better with his demons. He thinks no longer having first dibs on all of the best cocaine in Seoul will be good for Jeongguk.

Hoseok stands a while longer and watches Jeongguk box. Everything from his stance to his strikes is calculated and precise; showmanship at its finest. Really, everything Jeongguk does amazes Hoseok, when he thinks about it.

Finally, Jeongguk stops. Even though not much time has passed, he is panting and glistening with a sheen of sweat. He rolls his shoulders back and nods to Hoseok as he speaks.

"What have you been building?"

Hoseok perks up and considers this a win, smiling to himself as he runs through a mental list of all the latest gadgets and weapons he has been in the process of manufacturing.

"One of my latest toys is a hubcap with blades that extend out, so you can ram the car next to you and slash their tires."

Jeongguk's mouth and eyes widen comically, then he blinks from his thoughts and shakes his head, laughing as he asks, "You're joking, right?"

"Nah," Hoseok responds, also laughing because Jeongguk is absolutely precious. "We've been working on them for several months."

With another shake of his head, Jeongguk mutters, "That's some James Bond shit," and Hoseok laughs even harder, bending at the waist and placing his hands on his knees for stability.

"You have no idea," he says, thinking of all the other James Bond-type contraptions and weapons he has been working on, making Jeongguk laugh harder.

Moments pass, the laughter dies, and Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip while his eyes trail around the room. He screws up his face the way he does whenever faced with a choice, then nods his head and says, "Alright. I'll consider joining you."

This makes Hoseok's heart soar, and he claps his hands while shouting, "Oh, good!" and making Jeongguk laugh some more.

* * *

Jinnie Might have to head to Busan and oversee Hyunjin's escape. Care to join me?

Hoseok As exciting as that sounds, I think I would rather stay home and enjoy a nice warm bubble bath.

Jinnie Preemptively scheduling a bath without knowing which day I have to leave?

Hoseok You know me, always prepared for anything!

Jinnie Suit yourself. I expect pics, baby.

Hoseok Of course, sir. ;) How was the meeting?

Jinnie Brief. Yoongi and company came back from the range drunk, and they all convened in the pool. Could hardly capture his attention for ten minutes.

Hoseok Did he forget about the meeting?

Jinnie Likely, but that's fine. I just needed the green light to start pulling Hyunjin out. I have a feeling he doesn't actually care how I do it as long as it gets done.

Hoseok Anything involving Busan is a sore spot.

Jinnie It's ridiculous, honestly. How many years will it take for him to move on?

Hoseok I wanted to speak with him, but I guess it can wait. Coming back home?

Jinnie Walking up the path right now, baby.

Hoseok Movie night?

Jinnie Sounds perfect.

* * *

Hours earlier, after his meeting with Jeongguk, Hoseok sent a text to Yoongi asking when a good time to meet up and have a little chat might be. He is surprised to find Yoongi responding, given that Seokjin said he was drunk earlier. He wonders if it would be wise to check in with his friend at a time like this.

Credits roll on The Matrix, and Hoseok sighs as he leans forward to place the empty metal popcorn dish onto the table, careful not to stir Seokjin, whose head lies in his lap; as soon as the film began, it had taken approximately twenty minutes for him to fall fast asleep.

Despite his efforts, however, Seokjin grumbles and rolls onto his back, stretching as best as he can, given he is lying on a long mauve velvet couch with his head resting on a thigh. Hoseok gently runs his fingers through Seokjin's hair, smiling at the man who blinks away sleep with a lazy smile.

"Yoongi messaged a bit ago saying I could stop by for a chat, so I think I may."

With a sound somewhere between a hum and a yawn, Seokjin asks, "Mmm—what time is it?" while curling onto his side toward the back of the couch with his face buried against Hoseok's stomach.

"A little after seven," Hoseok guesses, given it was around five when they started the film.

"What are you gonna talk about?" Seokjin mutters, voice muffled in Hoseok's black t-shirt, huffing warmth through the fabric and onto his skin.

"Just gonna touch base and let him know how my talk with Jeongguk went. I have a feeling Gguk hasn't said anything about it."

"Likely not," Seokjin grumbles.

"We've also gotten some offers from a Russian contact for some machine guns, and I am curious whether that is something he may want."

Seokjin nods and rolls onto his back before sitting up with a groan, seeming reluctant to lose the lap that so dutifully acts as a pillow. He yawns again as he asks, "Kalashnikova? Vityaz?"

Hoseok lifts his legs straight and stretches, then slides to the edge of the couch and stands, feeling the tired ache of limbs that have sat unmoving for far too long.

"My, aren't we a nosey one," Hoseok teases, avoiding the question because he does not like discussing firearms in the comfort of his home.

Stepping in front of Seokjin, Hoseok takes his face in both hands and plants quick, sloppy kisses against his cheeks and forehead until Seokjin gets frustrated and attempts to push him away.

"Excuse me for taking an interest in your work," he pouts.

Hoseok smiles and concedes, giving Seokjin space and letting him breathe. Then he walks over to the entrance, grabs a black bomber jacket from the rack beside the front door, and slides his feet into a pair of black leather loafers.

"See you soon, Jinnie," Hoseok calls, glancing back to the couch to find no sign of Seokjin—he must have laid back down.

A grumble from the couch confirms his suspicions, and Hoseok smiles as he makes his way out the door, into the cool evening air. Just to be sure that Yoongi is still available to meet, Hoseok gives him a call, making his way down the path that leads to the back gardens of the main mansion. He enjoys taking the long way.

"Ah, there he is!" Yoongi announces, bypassing any greeting, and Hoseok can already tell that Yoongi is definitely still drunk. He thinks he can hear the terror twins shouting in the background and wonders if they are all still at the pool.

"Here I am," Hoseok responds, eyes on the gravel and dirt path ahead. "I'm heading over now, assuming this is still a good time."

"Ah, I would have told you to wear a bathing suit!"

Hoseok chuckles and shakes his head despite there being nobody to see him. "I'm not in the mood for a swim, but I appreciate the gesture. Who is with you?"

The longer of the two paths that connects the two properties opens into the shrub maze in the back of Yoongi's gardens, and Hoseok walks around it, taking the shortcut along a path between the outermost hedges and the wall of trees that enclose the property. From this distance, he can see lights shining above the pool area.

"Joonie, Tae, and Ggukie," Yoongi mutters.

"You sure your hands aren't too full?" Hoseok teases as he passes through an archway, into the larger garden, walking past the Greek statues and fountains.

"Never too full," Yoongi responds with a chuckle. "You know I love to be overwhelmed at all times."

Hoseok knows all too well that this is the case; it is part of what worries him.

"Is the pool entrance open?" Hoseok asks as he approaches; there is a gate that leads directly into the pool from the garden, making it easier to get to than walking through the mansion.

"Joonie!" Yoongi yells, muffled slightly as if his hand is over the microphone of his device. "Be a dear and let Seokie in through the gate!"

Hoseok approaches in time for the large wooden door to swing open, and he stops in his tracks when he is greeted by Namjoon glistening wet with a dopey smile, wearing black swim trunks that cling to what little they manage to cover.

He has all but forgotten about his call with Yoongi, and he glances at his phone to find that the call has already been ended. With a chuckle, he slides the device into his pocket, bows his head at Namjoon, and mutters, "Thanks, Joon," as he enters the pool area.

Something sexy and downtempo plays over the speakers, and there are champagne bottles scattered from the diving boards to the pool beds that are tucked away under awnings. Hoseok finds Taehyung and Jeongguk making out in the deep end by the diving boards, with Jeongguk pressed against the wall and Taehyung looming over him. It takes a moment to notice that on the far end of the space, Yoongi is reclined in the hot tub.

"Right this way, sir," Namjoon says in a mock butler voice, guiding Hoseok toward Yoongi with a stiff, open palm, making Hoseok laugh. They walk side by side, Namjoon with a bit of a sway in his step.

"Where's the sweetheart?" Hoseok asks, noticing her absence.

"She ran off a while ago," Namjoon responds, and Hoseok notices the little grin that blooms on his face. "Got overwhelmed by too much attention, I imagine."

Oh, this is interesting, indeed. "Attention, hmm?"

Namjoon chuckles and softly mutters, "Taehyung made some offhand comment about her and Jeongguk hooking up, and I don't think she has recovered."

"Is that wise?" Hoseok asks before he can stop himself. And although Namjoon seems unaffected by the question, he adds, "Sharing with Taehyung, I mean?"

With a shrug, Namjoon mutters, "Come on, hyung; you and I have both been there before," and he breaks off to round the hot tub from the opposite side where a set of steps are, to wade over to Yoongi.

"Champagne?" Yoongi asks, and Namjoon's eyes widen as if he had forgotten something.

"Ah, right!" Namjoon responds, "I got distracted and brought you something else."

Hoseok grabs a pool bed and pulls it over to where Yoongi is reclining, dragging it until he can sit within his eye-line, then he has a seat and leans with his elbows on his knees.

"Hoseokah!" Yoongi shouts with a similarly dopey grin as he sits up, and Hoseok laughs.

"You're drunk, boss. Should we talk another time?"

Yoongi shakes his head and frowns. "More tired than drunk. But you have my attention."

Although he expects that they will be having this conversation again at some point, Hoseok begins anyway.

"Jeonggukah doesn't quite seem sold on The Tigers yet, but he has agreed to help with my team if that is something you are interested in allowing."

Yoongi hums and nods, and Namjoon says, "Seokjin has also recommended him for House of Cards, and Jimin has asked about him working the brothels. But I feel like your team could use his brainpower more than the others."

Hoseok is not surprised that Seokjin has jumped on the chance to ask for him, but he is a bit taken aback by Jimin asking for help. Jimin likes his things to be his and only his; he has rejected plenty of offers by the family men and Changbin's security crew to help in the past.

"I agree that Hoseok's team could use him the most," Yoongi says, voice sounding surprisingly clear considering how tired and inebriated he seems. "But I like the idea of him being sought after. I will find out what the others may need from him, and we can see about having him become a floater."

"I think that's best," Namjoon agrees.

Hoseok hums and nods his head; the more people are chomping at the bit to have Jeongguk around, the more distracted he may be from whatever plagues him. And he will be less inclined to let his abandonment trauma seep in and make him feel like The Tigers are stepping in to replace him.

"Alright," Yoongi says with a sigh as he begins to sit up. "I need to get out of here before I become any more lightheaded. Let's run the idea by Jeongguk, and then I am going to get some sleep."

"Sounds good, boss," Hoseok says, standing from the pool bed. All of this could have been negotiated as a phone call, but at least he got plenty of fresh air today.

Hoseok drags the pool bed back to its rightful spot and joins the others to run the plan by Jeongguk. Taehyung reluctantly stops pressing the youngest into the pool wall, and when Jeongguk turns to face Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok, his gaze is fucked out, and hickeys cover his neck. Hoseok laughs, watching as the poor guy's face turns beet red, and then, after some berating from Yoongi and Namjoon, they begin their conversation.

This is nice, Hoseok thinks.

The nights are becoming cooler but still temperate enough to handle without bundling up—although Namjoon and Yoongi are shivering into towels that they have draped over their shoulders.

Despite light pollution, a few bright stars are visible as the sun continues to fully set, and everything seems…calm. Peaceful. Happy.

Hoseok holds onto this moment and tucks it away. He hopes that everything within the family can stay this good for a while.

thank you for reading!!! and for your patience! 💜💜💜

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THIS SITE, BUT LIKES ARE ALSO SUPER APPRECIATED!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

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#hoseok mafia #seokjin mafia #yoongi mafia #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #bts mafia #bts smut #bts angst #fic: collateral

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lazywriter-artist · 2 months ago

Note

🤍✈

List can be found here for any more asks

Heheh funnnn :3

Idrk if you wanted any oc in particular but I’ll yap abt ock some bc I like him hehehe

🤍 - Three of your character’s neutral/questionable traits

Hm, a fun thought experiment for ock bc u haven’t thought about too many in such a light X)

The main one that comes to mind is how clingy he is, it’s not always unbearably so but it can get bad at times. It isn’t often, and it’s definitely not common as ock dislikes strongly using his abilities for ‘bad’ things, but he once used his ability to dominate another’s mind and puppeteer them to prevent the man from leaving his side and being dismissed after a few months aboard Huntsmann’s ship. It took Huntsmann and berny trying to talk him down to have him finally realse the poor man. Ock isn’t a fan of people he loves being put in harms way, since as far as it goes it’s never really ended well for him. It’s a trait he’s definitely trying to make better but it’s very difficult for him.

Next is his shyness I suppose, he’s a very sort of paradoxical character as a reclusive figure too anxious to directly interact (hence why he uses his telepathy for communication most of the time when possible) but one who longs so very deeply for any sort of connection he seeks it in just about everyone willing to tolerate his silent little form shivering behind them.

Finally for this one I suppose is u g h

He can be a bit emotional at times- (sometimes VERY emotional-) so when he’s not being a shivering ball of anxiety his fluctuations have no set ways or anything of doing so.

✈️ - Does your Oc like travel or do they consider themselves a home body?

Ock definitely likes to travel! While it means he’s gotta muscle through some pain if they stumble across some areas with large crowds (telepath struggles for eel) he loves being and seeing new places as well as meeting new friends! (He must be watched or else he’s brining 30 new rats onto the ship smh)

✨☀️✨☀️✨☀️✨☀️✨☀️✨☀️✨☀️✨☀️✨

@ocherednoe-dno asks

💯 - share three random facts about your oc others might not know!

1) ock has a lot of little odd hobbies here and there to kill time when he’s say, experiencing one of huntsmann’s out bursts and finds himself locked in his chambers, of these hobbies ock has two major ones he’s taken a big liking to! Sewing and towel folding! They’re good things to make cuddly little friends and populate his imaginative play families.

2) kind of connecting with the earlier note Ock really likes playing with toys and things (escapism + comfort & hence why he picked up sewing) so it’s not uncommon to find him playing at someone’s feet (normally will’s sometimes Huntsmann’s) with his days plushie of choice or in his room shuffling through his massive plushie collection (some made some gifted!) to rearrange the little friends or play toys

3) Ock Is a very stunted little guy (he’s tiny in stature and build, he’s very naive, ect.) and this is included in his voice. Despite being about 18-20 for most of the ‘recent’ story, he’s got a very young sounding voice (in my mind he sounds like a young Bambi just perhaps with a slight British accent to it as Huntsmann has raised him after all and that man’s got space British thick.) mixed with his small timid stature and his very nervous tendencies those not used to him very commonly mistake him for being a lot younger than he actually is

🖤 - has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

Ig this could also count as a fun fact people might not know but, Ock has killed a man and it haunts him— Ock, unsurprisingly, isn’t a very violent little guy and doesn’t really use his abilities to harm all that much if he can avoid it. So imagine his surprise when, at huntsmann’s demand, he is forced to execute a man with his abilities. He was reassured the man was a heretic and that he deserved the emperors hand, but it didn’t stop the screams of the man or the pleads both internal and external that Ock had to listen to during hurt any less. Broke the poor little guy for months, he was shut down for a while that even Will couldn’t really get him out of it and really still comes back to haunt him from time to time (it was mostly a measure by Huntsmann to A. Really get a feel for Ock’s abilities and B. See how willing Ock was to use them for harming others among other things-)

Mh, I think he’s maybe broken someone’s trust before, mmm I think perhaps a guardsman or acquaintance or two upon the whole being an inquisitor’s psyker ordeal. Definitely has pushed a few people away even if it’s a bit out of his control

💔 - what are three of your oc's negative traits?

U h hm. Honestly a toughie for ock— shockingly I don’t think I’ve given him many negative traits

Or well, I’ve not given him any Ergh, awful traits? Ock has some traits I’ve seen listed as negative in various listicles sure but idrk if I’d personally categorize some of them as negative? It’s a question very strongly endowed with one’s own personal sense of morality ig is the trick here for my brain?

Like- ock isn’t the typical negatively associated asshole jerk man but then again people don’t tend to always be either and they still have negative traits ya do ya know? Idk- it’s a bit hard for me personally to classify things like positive and negative traits as I feel anything taken too far/in the wrong ways ect. Can be labeled as positive or negative-

I suppose for ock, based around various listicles of “negative traits” we can go with

1) Needy (not gonna do this for every one I don’t really see this as a negative bc well ik it comes from a place and so it’s hard for me to place it as negative when I don’t think it’s like— bad? It’s just how ock has been impacted by the world and as such more of an obstacle to be worked around and yadda yadda character’s flaws aren’t errors but merely features to be enjoyed this and that- though ig this also hinges on the interpretation of negative meaning negative for those surrounding him and not just for ock himself too which I mean these traits can be negative heavily for ock as well which might end them up with the label here and dependent on the interpretation that it’s classified by simply flaws that hurt and—) - kind of following with his clinginess guy really tends to take what he can and hoard it up. I will say he isn’t like— complain and whine about not being given something he could grab himself spoiled child levels of needy, but he is again very clingy and will sometimes not realize when he is over stepping and demanding a bit too much of someone’s attention.

2) cowardly - little guy lacks a back bone pretty often- it’s really when he tends to serve as just a little guy wandering around behind huntsmann and maybe sometimes sort of as communication but he’s more huntsmann‘s proof of concept of ‘I can keep it alive and keep it compliant with the inquisitions/imperiums usual bullshittery’ more than a fighting weapon (that’s what his field his for-) so it’s more in personal situations than battle

3) absent minded - while definitely not all the time ock does have a bit of a habit of being a bit locked out in certain times, settings, days, ect. And just be lost in his thoughts (sometimes leading to an anxious spiral-) and just over all leaving him very ditzy from time to time.

🐈- does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends?

He’d really like to have a larger group of friends though that’s hard for him for numerous reasons and he does a lot better with smaller groups anyway.

He kind of had a ‘larger’ group already considering he finds most people he bumps into and grows attached to friends even if they aren’t so or he may never see them again but we ball

And that kind of leads to why he is just better suited for smaller groups over all as larger ones aside from stressing him out (telepath moment) for a number of reasons inside and out, he’s a very easily attached and DEEPLY attached guy so if for whatever reason he holds some level of less close less attached relationship with someone he is very very attached to (not hard to be- breath near the little guy and you’re half way there-) and he doesn’t have that reciprocated he tends to flip out a bit and not feel to great

Which really is another reason of many hunts tends to keep him on a shorter leash.

#GWAH #THIS TOOK SO LING TOT SORRY CHAT #I ramble a lot sometimes so uh ignore those I was too lazy to delete ig lol #wh40k #warhammer 40k #lazy answers #lazy text #lazy written #lazy blab #wh40k oc #ock & the trials of Terra

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ghostclowning · 1 year ago

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another day of zhushen agenda BUT it's ZZL being unreasonably hot when SQQ least expects him to. Like when he's talking to SQQ politely and calmly, then some demon tries to approach them and he gives them such a death glare that the poor thing perishes immediately regardless of its intentions. Then he turns back to SQQ and he's now absolutely normal. But SQQ isn't normal at all. He's never been hornier in his life. Gentle ZZL is cool but /srs ZZL???maybe even mad ZZL?? Fuck yes. Although perhaps he's feeling so safe thinking about such things only bc he knows for sure his husband won't ever intentionally hurt him. He really wants to hear ZZL call him a "bad boy" now though, whew.

And SQQ also likes to randomly touch ZZL muscles(if it doesn't distract him, of course...but sometimes even if it distracts him. After all, so far he never objected). Pure amazement. He wonders if ZZL could beat LQG if they had no swords(of course he wouldn't let these two fight, this sure would end up traumatic for both...but just for the sake of mental experiment? It's never wrong to imagine hot men in blood-). And he also thinks how he can do whatever with ZZL only bc ZZL chooses to allow him. Like "I braid his hair but he could easily braid my limbs! Sheesh!" But ZZL is just ready to tolerate any shit he does, even when he goes drinking with SQH(it never ends well)(ZZL gives him the /srs stare afterwards which SQQ a little bit enjoys ... secretly....).

[The truth is, he probably considers literally anything still better than standing lines for lewd fanfics]

Sometimes SQQ purposely tries to tease ZZL, but it often leads to an outcome he didn't expect, even if at first things go smoothly...He once tried to make his snake husband a little jealous, joke-flirting with soemone, but ZZL was just keeping silent, although he clearly was upset. Once they were left alone, he said he thought what he and master Shen had was just between them. SQQ was just heartbroken cuz his boy seemed so sad about it<3 He tries to reassure ZZL he was just fucking around but then ZZL pins him to the wall, grabs both his hands, immobilizing him with ease, his glance calm as ever but unusually stern.

"Master Shen has spoken enough today. But I see that I don't satisfy master Shen enough."

"Not at all, Xizhi-lang..."

"I have a name."

"...Ah? Sorry, Zhuzhi-lang...You really satisfy me! I was just being silly..."

"No need to pretend now. I understand," Zhuzhi-lang leans in and shuts him up with a kiss. Oh no. Practice shows that his 'understanding' of things is often different from normal... "If so, I'm afraid I have to fix my mistakes."

His firm tone makes SQQ feel things. God damn it, maybe he actually doesn't mind whatever is going to happen now. Although it wouldn't be so sweet if ZZL gave him a dose of blood parasites to control him. Yeah that would be less hot.

"I will make love to you all night. For every sound that you make, I will keep going."

SQQ had no idea how vocal he was in bed until now, and he cursed this trait of his now, because he also had no idea how long demons can go on. ZZL only let him go when he started literally begging for mercy. This really was enjoyable until SQQ got completely exhausted, and when he realized ZZL still stops when he asks properly, he thought that he certainly will do this again... sometime. When he's able to walk again, probably. Maybe.

SQQ also grew used to the snakes, even the demonic ones. When ZZL is not home, he talks to them instead. Keeps a little bowl of water for them even. Unexpectedly, him befriending the snakes actually helped to get them out of his bed... When ZZL saw how friendly he got with them, he gave him a strange look, but he hasn't found a single snake in his bed or in his clothes since. They still were everywhere else around the house, but, apparently, have learned that some things are not to be touched. They still touch master Shen himself though, but they, apparently, also were taught not to do so if master Shen minds...and this man once said he can't do anything about his snakes, huh?

And also SQQ collected a piece of snake skin ZZL shed. When ZZL found out, he was a little...repulsed. "Why would one collect something that came off their body? You don't collect fallen off hair..."

"But it's not hair! It's a piece of snake skin. It looked cool."

"...Should I start collecting master Shen's dead skin..."

"...uhm, alright, alright, you have a point. Please don't-"

"If master Shen likes such things, I could-"

"Please don't"

SQQ had no doubt ZZL could make all the snakes shed right in their house, and he clearly didn't need that. Did SQQ get rid of that one piece of snake skin though? Absolutely not.

#svsss #zhuzhi-lang #shen qingqiu #zhushen #i swear i dont know how did it turn unto a poorly written fic in the end i have no control over myself #delusional

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poptimus-prime · 1 year ago

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Something I wrote to stretch my writing muscle out today bc I’ve been job hunting and/or bedridden all August and I have a commission and a zine piece to finish. (This work is related to neither.)

Miko walked down the aisle of drinks with wide eyes, seemingly overwhelmed by her choices. Jack followed, mostly disinterested as he waited to pick up his usual drink–a Redbull–so it wouldn’t get warm while he waited for Miko to make her selection.

“I still don’t understand how you can drink those.” Stormy signed to him, their voice stuck in the back of their throat. “They kinda taste…bad to me.”

“Yeah, well, I like the way they taste.” Jack shrugged. “I have a refined palette.”

“If by refined you mean a hankering for battery acid.” Miko stuck her tongue out. She stole a sip of his drink at one point, and immediately regretted it. She paused and her eyes widened as a can caught her attention from her peripheral–a pink one. She immediately opened the fridge and reached for it. She tilted her head, having difficulty reading the writing at the bottom due to its font spacing. “I want this one. The…Strawberry Dreams Monster?”

“I’ve had that one. It’s pretty good.” Stormy summarized while they held an Ultra Watermelon under their arm, and Jack interpreted for Miko. The girl flapped her empty hand a little, excited to taste her new treasure. Stormy smiled at her antics before turning to Raf, who had tugged on their sweater sleeve while holding his selection. Stormy had to hand it to him that he knew exactly what he wanted every single time–lemonade flavored Bug Juice and a black bag of sour gummy worms. They were convinced that if 7/11 stopped selling either, he would simply wither away.

“Can I get these?” Raf asked quietly, and Stormy nodded. They had offered to pay for Raf and Miko, and he really wasn’t asking for much. They let him hold onto their sleeve, and he trailed along behind them as they continued to make their own selection. They were having difficulty making a choice, standing in the chip aisle with their free hand on their hip. Raf shyly waved at someone else who had just come into the gas station, immediately hiding his face in Stormy’s arm.

They turned to see Jack standing next to them as he picked up Takis–the ones in the wildest shade of blue Stormy had ever seen. Jack could take spice deceptively well; he was banned from using hot peppers while cooking for the Darby household because his spice tolerance was that much higher than the rest of the family.

Stormy sighed and took a bag of cheese Chex Mix. Eventually, Miko returned to them with her drink and a bag of sour candy straws Stormy swore this gas station stopped selling, but nevertheless they would buy for her. Now that they were all ready, Stormy proceeded to the checkout, allowing Jack to go first as he was paying for himself.

The gas station attendant, having seen these kids time and again, greeted them all with familiarity. By now, he knew enough about them, he thought. Jack was the one that tried way too hard to be cool and inevitably fumbled right at the end. He knew that Stormy didn’t talk (at least, never to him) and Raf would hide behind them; Miko, however, would gladly run her mouth to him without restraint. He didn’t regret it–she was the only other person in this backwater town who enjoyed Slash Monkey.

Once they exited the gas station, they walked to the park, occasionally pausing to look into shop windows and gawk at the items for sale inside. Miko asked constant questions, and the others answered them with ease. By the time they got to the park and began tearing into their haul, it was still light out, but cooler as the afternoon turned into the evening. In the corner of the park, far away from the street, was their favorite table under a tree. It was perfectly shaded at this time of day, and provided some peace for the four of them.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that their antics end.

“These chips are so spicy, Jack, what the fuck?” Miko whined, taking another sip of her drink to try to wash the heat out of her mouth. The boy offered her one, and just like the Redbull, she regretted partaking.

Jack just laughed quietly, his fingertips and mouth an unnatural shade of blue from his snack. He had to slam his fist against the park bench to let something out, and Miko responded by flicking the back of his head.

“Shut up, Jack.” She huffed.

“I didn’t say anything, dude!” Jack replied, and the two began their lighthearted squabbling. A near daily occurrence.

Stormy and Raf watched quietly from the other side of the table, the older giving the occasional piece of pretzel to the child. He munched on it, his gummy worms long gone. The sun was setting, and Bulkhead would be there soon to pick them up.

But it was an afternoon well spent.

#the oc tag #stormy #the butterfly au #TBQH I think all the kids should get to hang out more without the bots #I used to buy snacks at a corner store with my friends when we snuck off campus and loiter in drugstores #And we’d all just hang out in the lawns on campus

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audiovisualrecall · 2 years ago

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So friends/family gave us food and others are offering to so we don't have to cook etc and I appreciate it but also

Despite all the Thanksgiving food yesterday being stomach-safe apart from the cake (and, yes, the donuts I had at work 2 days in a row), everything was still rich, and I ate too much, and my stomach has been on and off upset/uneasy since last night. The same thing will happen with the food they gave us, bc it's rich, and we have had problems before with similar stuff, and if it tastes good I have no self control bc I don't feel full right away, and mostly normally we eat simple dishes! Simple stir fries where I have a portion of chicken, rice or pasta, and veggies. My stomach can't really tolerate heavy, rich foods very often, and we already have people offering to buy us dinner foodstuffs for the rest of the week, honestly, and I appreciate it but I don't want to be sick all week, okay! And on top of that I pulled a muscle in my side on like Monday or Sunday maybe and it's been getting more painful/difficult to deal with as I worked 7 days in a row, plus I'm still coughing, and I have acid reflux for some reason, and I'm having to lay on my back and not my side like I prefer bc my side feels painful like pinching when I lay on my side, I can't twist and move around and reach for things easily or without pain. And I can't deal with multiple physical discomforts at the same time like this, and mourning my zayde, and I don't want to be a problem abd a bother to my mom, but I'm trying to express something no one is taking seriously! I have a chronic gut related illness! I'm not just being difficult and I can't just cook something else for myself because I AM IN PAIN! I worked 5 or 6 days in a row with this pain yes but I was clearly doing more damage to the muscle and if I want to heal at all I need to not do things that will hurt it, I need to see a doctor probably too, and I just feel like such a problem, like I'm being a baby making everything about me when ma lost her dad, but it's not my fault I'm injured and that my stomach is difficult!!!!!! And I want to cry and I can't even do that without something hurting! I want normal food bc nothing else can be normal rn. And I'd like tp be able to focus on healing and not on my stomach being upset. Like lunch was bagels, lox, and fruit, and my stomach still wasn't happy. And I need to call out from work Sunday at least partly to let my side heal but also bc we don't sit shivvah tonight or tomorrow until shabbos ends so most ppl are coming over on Sunday to sit with us. And I didn't tell work abt my grandfather passing, I just went to work the next day and said nothing to anyone I only told kne friend when he was sick and only told one different friend that he had passed away Tuesday night, so i just feel weird now to mention that hey I might need some time off due to a death in the family.... but also I might need PT for my pulled muscle and I didn't mention THAT to anyone at work really specifically that the injury occurred at work bc it was just so crazy busy and I thought it would get better on its own I guess, and it probably only happened bc I'd had the flu so I'd been coughing for a week and then reached for something too high up at work while twisted slightly and felt a sharp pain in my side... so idk if I should tell them one or the other bc no one would believe me if I tell them both things are reasons for me to be out. Idk. And I'm just upset and tired of ppl thinking I'm annoying for not wanting to upset my stomach by eating things I know will do so, purely bc it's the food that'd available so I should either eat it or make myself something else. Like my point is it's distressing to me rn! Please help me and understand me!

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nathank77 · 3 months ago

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8/20/24

8:59 a.m

My insomnia was a bitch last night. I had to double up for the first time in 2 days. I'm willing to tonight after putting in much effort but the following day I'm SOL I won't raise my tolerance. It'll come down to weed tomorrow worse case.

I fell asleep by 1 a.m... it's really getting to me.

Let's go over my potential subclinical hyperthyroidism symptoms:

1) Insomnia....

I dont think there are others...

-muscles twitching: seems directly related to metopolol and have seemed to slow down and almost stop since stopping the meds.

-pooping: has went back to 2-3× a day. The 5 times that one day was directly linked to having over 39 grams of fiber in one day.

- Sweating/Heat intolerance: Not suffering from those.

-Heart Rate: Seems to be within normal range.

- Frequent Urination: I mean I drink a lot of fluids. It can easily be the explanation. Before bed I drink a cup of tea with my cigarettes.

-weight loss: my caloric in-take is low. I would be losing weight like a mother fucker if I was hyper.

-Anxiety: well I mean insomnia triggers me so much it's always extreme.. and okay so my thyroid nodules gave me anxiety randomly last night. Maybe we can say my anxiety is worse..... but idk it could also be that I care about myself and my sister had thyroid cancer and I didn't want to process that my thyroid grew another nodule despite it being smaller. And of course, my thyroid is of major interest to me atm bc of being sub clinically hyper..

- Appetite: I've had a slight increase in appetite but it seems normal. Every 4-6 hours. When I was hyper I was hungry every 2 hours... now I just feel hungry when I think a normal human body should.

Okay moving forward from that:

- is xanax losing its effectiveness? I don't think so but it crosses my mind.. yet some nights it works fine.

- or is my anxiety bad right now and it's keeping me from falling asleep quickly..

- is it the game I play before bedtime. It's fun it's call ice age adventure. Elise if you're here idk if your kids are too old to enjoy it but I think it's super fun and cute and they may love it. Nonetheless it's bright. And I play right before solitaire. It could be effecting it.

circadian rhythm: is it being effected by multiple nights of falling asleep later due to insomnia despite all the efforts I make to keep it so I can fall asleep by 11:30 p.m..

- then I think a wild thought what if my body is like if we don't sleep he will give us more? I mean it seems stupid cause it knows damn well that sure 2 days in a row I will but day 3 you're fucked. I'll make you pull an all nighter. I'm keeping my circadian rhythm I'll throw myself in the attic at 2 a.m if you won't sleep.

Gaming isn't a factor I haven't been gaming all my youtube videos are a week or 2 old being posted on a schedule.

Yesterday I had one red bull at 8 a.m. I had my v8 energy drinks too but stopped them at 2 p.m....

I mean I have had more tv time. But I mean of course I have. I'm running through my list of things to do and 90% of it at this rate costs me money I don't have so I can only do so much.

- bo4 hardcore barebones starts today. I have therapy and a physical. And I'm doing laundry so I can't really enjoy it today but starting tomorrow I'm going to be all in, I set up my week so I can enjoy it for as many days as possible. Although I have to go grocery shopping tomorrow.

- I am worried about money. Idk.

I suppose if I struggle tonight and tomorrow I'm going to do Methimazole everyday bc at that point I can't find another cause but it seems weird that it could be related to subclinical hyperthyroidism when I slept when I was hyper.

I don't think xanax is losing its effectiveness

I actually think my circadian rhythm has been thrown off too many nights in a row and maybe my tv is still a little too loud. If I turn it down anymore- the voice is going to be all i hear....

Maybe I can try being scared on YouTube on my tv with a sleep timer. His voice is low. And now my mental pictures are all sorts of normal and weird and I have control of them.

But yea I'm feeling hopeless. I'd rather follow my Dr original advice...but at some point as I take out the potential other causes it might be the only factor.

I think trying a lower TV show might be helpful. American dad has a lot of singing and screaming. It could be disrupting my ability to fall asleep or stay asleep. Technically I could be falling asleep quickly and waking up minutes later bc of a loud sound....

Or maybe it's just my circadian rhythm being thrown off. IDFK but I'm weighting every potential cause.

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loving-n0t-heyting · 2 years ago

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Ok, here is my response, my experiences with antipsychotics and why I no longer take them, to someone asking if getting rid of the hallucinations is worth it. Readmored for some tmi and length

So I should start by saying I myself am not psychotic, and in fact derived nothing from my long stint on antipsychotics aside from some dings on my insurance history and the much-dreaded “side” effects. I stayed on them initially bc I was threatened with various forms of retribution if I didn’t, and continued with them after outgrowing the shock collars that could enforce it thru a combination of learned helplessness and my shrink colonising the inside of my head: in order to brave the effects of taking it when I was coerced into it, I stared long enough at the noise to find some variation I could use as proof to myself it was helping the mood/personality disorder it was prescribed for, and I carried this self-delusion past its point of usefulness out of doxastic inertia. So I cannot speak directly to the effects’ severity in contrast to the drugs, though it is not hard to find psychotic ppl agreeing with me or for me to see why they would

The first, worst effect for me was acute akathisia (an “extrapyramidal” disorder), a sort of constant restlessness accompanied by an agonising experience of internal discomfort (“Dysphoria”) that felt like I was squeezed and twisted into the contours of my skin despite not quite fitting. I was “lucky” in that on my drug (latuda/lurasidone, one of the “milder” atypical antipsychotics on the market) at least the effect disappeared after 6wk, and could in the meantime be ameliorated (not eliminated) with some propranolol, but that 6wk timer would reset any time I abstained for one reason or another from the drug for more than a couple of days, allowing the tolerance to wear off. You can easily find any number of ppl online calling akathisia a form of torture; this is because it is. This actually helped with my self delusion: bc I was so preoccupied by the agony of akathisia, I did not have the attention required for suicidality. So clearly it was helping!

Well into my lurasidone regimen I also started experiencing another pair of extrapyramidal symptoms, “dystonia” (specifically oculogyric crises) and an as far as I can tell unattested side effect that would drive me to seek out and fixate on ~circles in my field of vision, to the point I could e.g. not unlock my phone bc I was too distracted by the 0’s and 9’s etc on the lock screen; there was only the pain of desire in this drive, not any pleasure in satisfaction. Dystonia involves involuntary loss of muscle tone; in the case of oculogyric crises, this meant my eyes would roll up painfully and uncontrollably (or barely controllably, sometimes with a Herculean effort I could redirect my gaze) as far back into my skull as possible, though occasionally neck and tongue muscles would roll back uncontrollably instead or additionally. Along with the main course of painful loss of control over basic bodily movements, dystonia comes with some refreshing sides: intrusive thoughts, palilalia (a form of stuttering in which entire words are repeated), and a sense of mortal terror. I initially experienced dystonia and the circle lust separately, but eventually they came to mostly co-occur, usually every 2.5 nights or so for periods of around 5-7hr after taking my meds (many nights I would lie awake in great discomfort trying and failing to force the visual snow against the featureless black inside of my head into fuzzy white circles). I am again “lucky” to have quit when I did, since prolonged use of antipsychotics inducing such extrapyramidal symptoms is known to sometimes cause irreversible neurological damage in the form of tardive dyskenisia, which I happily avoided

These effects invited a medication cascade beyond the underlying antipsychotic prescription. The only medication that successfully treated the dystonia and circle lust was cogentin, which I had to stop once it landed me in the ER for urinary retention so I could spend the next several days with a catheter up my urethra constantly dribbling pee into a bag strapped to my leg. After that I resorted to using over-the-counter Benadryl at increasingly high dosages, though (once more!) “luckily” not to the point of its infamous shitty trips. I might have gotten to that point eventually though: even at the doses I was using, its suppression was imperfect, and I might have eventually been driven to hallucinogenic quantities (ironic, no?)

But I have not yet reached my greatest stroke of “luck”! I by some fluke of neurology avoided the common zombifying side effect of cognitive dulling, in which the capacity for and interest in abstract thought is basically shuttered, which has the elegant property of forestalling its own detection (robnost has a good tag all about this). I accomplished some of my most demanding academic work the year I was most consistently on the drugs, the year before I crashed and burned out of grad school bc of (among other reasons) the horrifying, breakdown-inducing epiphany that holy shit I have been sycophantically consenting to the continuous trashing of my only brain for no earthly fucking reason. So I am pretty sure I dodged that particular psychoactive bullet

Is all this worth it to deal with hallucinations? I can’t say from personal experience. But the respite it offers is in any event likely temporary: the long term efficacy of these drugs is on shaky grounds, so in the end the sacrifices may all be for nothing. If you want another account of the extensive mortification of the flesh and mind this false god is prone to extract from its witch doctors’ acolytes, you can check out FDB’s obsequious little performance of his own personal sacrifices to the idol

All that being said, I don’t think I automatically judge everyone who takes them, and I think it’s counterproductive to state a blanket condemnation. There are psychotic ppl who claim the ravages of positive psychosis are enough to outweigh the side effects of the treatment, and as long as they don’t make any effort to inflict this onto others I don’t necessarily blame them. You have to assess the risks for yourself by yourself. But I would strongly urge you to set the bar of potential upsides very high, and I would urge particular caution seeking out the drugs from psychiatrists and other authorities capable of forcing them on you if you eventually decide against them; the threat of involuntary medication and confinement, particularly for psychosis and personality disorder, is real and severe

Good luck

@ antipsychotics anon: I typed out a long reply to your question but tumblr ate it, I’ll try and reconstruct once I have it in me

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alrightberries · 4 years ago

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“may i?”

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff & angst. ❈ word count: 8k

❈ summary: you’re the medic assigned to take care of captain levi as he heals from the explosion. you’re also the only person he tolerates.

alternatively: in which you create prosthetics for humanity’s most war torn soldier.

❈ trigger warnings: manga spoliers. profanity. mentions of violence, blood, gore, and death. mentions of sexual themes.

a/n: levi’s kinda ooc bc i couldn’t write the progress of his relationship with reader without making it longer than it already is. also this is medically inaccurate (re: healing time of broken bones and amputations) for the sake of the plot so pls no one throw hands.

Levi doesn't like looking at mirrors.

There was no tragic backstory behind his distaste for the reflective surface, no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism as one would expect from a man with his past. The reason behind it was simple: he just saw no reason to.

He wasn't vain, wasn't too concerned about his face, didn't care much to look at his physical appearance aside from when he had to cut his hair or get ready for the day to look presentable to his comrades. He knew he was attractive, and effortlessly so. The little letters and gifts he’d received from fans and admirers proved as much, and his title of “Humanity’s Strongest” only added to the appeal. Really, there was no reason for him to always be looking into a mirror.

But now... Levi simply couldn’t understand why that mindset had vanished. It was replaced with the fervor to always be staring at his own reflection— not out of vanity but out of disgust.

The disgust of staring at his mutilated face.

He warily lifts up the small mirror he held in his hand, features contorting into a grimace at the man staring back at him. Scars and cuts littered his cheeks— some deeper than others, but none as terrible as the long jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. It started from his forehead and ended at his bottom lip, held together by ugly black stitches the medics had hurriedly sewn on him the second he got back to the base. His right eye was split in half, completely useless, completely blind; held together by the same black stitches that donned the ugliest scar of all.

And Levi couldn’t help but think that this man was hideous.

He was hideous.

Levi reaches out with his right hand to touch his scars out of habit. He feels his heart tighten when he realizes there’s only air where his fingers should be and he nearly breaks the small mirror he held in his good hand from how hard he was squeezing it.

The mirror makes a gentle clink as he sets it down onto the mahogany of his desk. Bitterly, he stares at his three fingered right hand. His pointer and middle finger were gone, nothing but pathetic stumps protruding from his knuckles where they used to be. It was still covered in bandages and a makeshift brace so he wouldn’t strain himself when he moved, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t move those stumps even if he tried.

He probably should’ve been thankful to have made it out of that explosion alive— not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. Though Hange had tried cheering him up (“Look on the bright side, we can wear matching eyepatches now!”) he simply couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate coming back so... useless.

His writing was as legible as chicken scratches. His right eye spasmed in pain every time he blinked. He couldn’t even try to relearn how to use the ODM gear with his new circumstance, and he mentally curses out his orders to stay put and heal.

Too many things were lost, too many people, too many lives.

All because of that damned explosion.

All because of that damned bearded bastard.

Levi is pulled from his thoughts when three soft knocks reverberate throughout his otherwise quiet office, and he rushes to put his eyepatch on and hide the mirror in his desk drawer. He attempts to sit in what he hopes was a seemingly ‘professional’ position but his stiffness gives away his discomfort.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

He feels himself release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he hears the voice. Your voice.

“Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open before it closes with a soft click, floorboards making minuscule sounds at the weight as you make your way to his desk. Levi pretends to look busy as his good eye scans the document he held in his hand.

The sound of porcelain clinking against porcelain grabs his attention.

“Brought you tea.” You murmured. “I figured it won’t be up to your standards again but I did try my best.”

Levi still doesn’t look up as you set the tray down on his desk, and his good hand reaches for the steaming cup to take a small sip. His eye twitches at the taste.

“If you were going to bring me shit tea anyway then why bother.”

He hears a gentle chuckle but doesn’t see the way you smile at his contradictory words and actions. He made no move to throw the “shit tea” away, something he was infamous for with teas that didn’t meet his standards. Instead, he keeps sipping, gently placing the cup down onto his table once he finished.

“I thought that maybe distracting you with terrible tea would keep your mind off me changing your bandages.” You explained, and Levi nods but doesn’t speak. When silence once again filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional crumple of documents you knew he wasn’t reading, you take it as your cue to pick up your pen and clipboard to start the checkup.

“Have you felt any discomfort or pain in any of your extremities such as your right eye or your right hand?”

“No.”

“Have you felt any throbbing or other sensations in any part of your body?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any fevers, headaches, dizziness, or sudden spasms in any part of your body?”

“No.”

He hears you set your clipboard down and his skin tingles from your doubtful stare. He didn’t have to look to know it was there. He risks a glimpse at the papers attached to the wooden board in your hands but just as he expected, you didn’t write down any of his answers.

“Have you lied to any or all of the questions I’ve asked during your routine checkup for today?”

“...yes.”

A soft sigh escape through your nose and your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Captain, lying to your medic won’t get you to the battlefield faster. You’re of no use to anyone when you’re injured.”

Levi clicks his tongue at your reply but he holds his smart ass comments back. He knew you were right, and it infuriated him so much.

“Fine,” he grits out. “My right eye’s been twitching all day. The fucking stumps on my right hand don’t feel like stumps. It feels like I still have fingers there, and I know it’s complete bullshit since they were lying next to my face when they got blown off.”

His angry glance finally lands on you. “That the answer you were looking for, oh medic of mine?”

It was now your turn to click your tongue. “Not quite,” you mumble, writing down his answers onto the file in your hands. “Feeling your missing limbs even after they’re amputated is normal. It’s called phantom touch.”

You place the clipboard back onto his desk and reach into your pockets, pulling out pristine white gloves before gingerly putting them on.

“Your right eye still spasming though, that’s concerning.” You add. Your hands slowly reach out to his face, and Levi momentarily flinches away out of habit. But you made no move to touch him.

He eyes you warily, tense muscles relaxing even just the slightest as he sees your gentle stare.

“May I?” You ask softly, a caring smile on your face.

Levi only nods, not trusting his words, and he once again tenses up as he feels your hands unbuckle the leather straps of his eyepatch before setting it down onto his table. He keeps his bad eye shut.

Your hands are gentle as you touch his face, touch nothing but a soft caress in such a way that his tender stitches felt no pain. Your eyes are focused on his stitches, lacking any judgement or ill will, and Levi’s suddenly aware of how close you actually were to his face.

Your eyes were beautiful, he noticed. They always were. The little furrow in your eyebrows as you concentrated was cute, and the soft caress of your hands on his cheeks as you inspected his face felt... nice, and dare he even say relaxing. Momentarily, when he finally lets himself adjust to the atmosphere, he lets his tense muscles ease.

“Can you open your right eye, Levi?”

“Y-yeah.”

FUCK.

What the fuck.

Did he just fucking stutter?

Levi’s surprise is only painted on his face for a few mere seconds before he schools his expression back to one of stoicness and neutrality, and he prays to all the existing gods he knew of that you wouldn’t notice.

He risks another glance at you. One of your eyebrows is arched and the corner of your lip is quirked up in a small smirk, but you dared not comment on the captain’s speech mishap.

Fuck. So you did notice.

Before he could try to save face by dishing out some bullshit reprimand of being disrespectful for calling him by his name and not his title, the words die on his tongue as you lean in impossibly close and oh god your noses were almost touching, your eyes are even more beautiful up close, and what the fuck is—

“Captain,” you repeat. “Can you open your right eye please?”

Oh, right.

He doesn’t speak as he does what he was told. He feels his eye open but no vision comes to his senses.

“It’s looking... not so good.” He hears you mumble, face contorted into one of concern. “It’s actually looking pretty bad.”

Levi scoffs. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you.”

You roll your eyes, the small smile once again returning to your lips.

“How long have you been keeping the eyepatch on?” You ask. Your hands are holding his head in place now, grasp a little more firm but not enough to hurt.

“An hour at most.”

“Are you lying again?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

You nod but made no further comment, leaning back to grab the clipboard once more to write down your observations.

“So,” you start. “Are you going to tell me the truth or do I have to poke your bad eye?”

Levi’s lips turn into a frown at the notion. “I’ve kept it on the entire day. And I know you’re probably lying about poking my eye, but in case you’re not, no. I do not want you poking my eye.”

You nod your head again, writing more things down onto your little clipboard.

“You should let it breathe. Keep it on for an hour or two at most but take it off when you sleep. Too much friction with the eyepatch might cause irritation.”

As the consultation draws on, Levi tries (keyword: tries) to be as honest as he could. Not that he could be dishonest when you were so good at snooping out his lies, though. You were already used to his stubbornness.

He wasn’t lying, however, when he tells himself that his heartbeat did not speed up when your hands gently held his own as you changed his bandages and cleaned his amputation; he wasn’t lying when he tells himself that the tips of his ears were not burning a bright red, cheeks flushed as you asked him to take off his shirt; and he definitely wasn’t lying when he tells himself that his dick did not twitch in his pants when your hands caressed his abdomen and back, accidentally hitting sweet spots he didn’t even know existed, to inspect his still purple bruises and healing ribs.

Yeah, he definitely was not lying.

“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” You say cheerfully. “I’ll be back same time tomorrow for another checkup.”

He glances up as he finishes buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. The gloves from your hands are taken off and tucked back into your pockets, and you hand him a small vial full of pills.

“Take one of these, twice a day at most, whenever you feel pain in your right eye.”

“I’m not feeling any—“

“Sure you’re not.” You cut him off with a smile. “I believe you. But feel free to contact me for any pain or discomfort you feel at any time of the day. I’ll be more than glad to find you.”

Levi says nothing, opting to instead stare at you as you gather the now empty teacup and kettle, placing them back onto the tray along with your clipboard and pen.

“Oh, by the way.” You speak, walking towards the door and opening it. You don’t spare him another glance as you finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can prescribe any pills to lessen blood flow to your dick.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and Levi’s momentarily mortified as he processes your words. He risks yet another glance, this time down to his lap.

Shit, he thinks before he sighs. His hands readjust the hard-on in his pants.

Nothing goes past your observant eyes.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi doesn’t bother to look busy like he did last week, you noticed, because this time he was actually busy. Which was odd considering he was taken off paperwork duty until he could write again.

“What’re you up to?” You ask, setting the tray down onto his desk and pouring him a cup of tea. Your eyes curiously glance at the papers scattered about his usually clean desk, each filled with indiscernible writings of his name.

“Trying to write. I’m useless until I can.” He mumbles before he scoffs. “This would be easier if I had all my fingers.”

You nod along to his replies yet made no move to stop him. You picked up your pen and clipboard to write things down as well.

“You’re not supposed to be using your right hand, your amputation is still too tender.”

“Tch, what do you expect me to do then?”

“Uh... use your non-injured, complete left hand?”

Levi blinks at your words, and he has half a mind to slap his forehead for being dumb and not thinking of that. Which he undoubtedly would’ve done had you not pushed the steaming cup of tea closer to his sitting form.

“Have some tea. You look like you’re about to pop a vein.”

Your smart remark is met with silence and a steely glare, and surprisingly, as Levi drank the tea you prepared, he notices it’s not downright terrible.

“Your brew’s better.”

“Yeah. I finally took your advice of using a thermometer to get ‘the perfect temperature’ after you complained about my ‘shitty tea’ for the nth time that week.”

Levi hides his little smirk behind the teacup, silently reveling in his small triumph before setting it down. From the corner of his eye, he notices you eyeing something, and his heart drops as his gaze follows your own.

The mirror. He forgot to hide the mirror.

Discreetly (or as discreet as he could) he takes the mirror and shoves it back into his desk drawer. You had many questions, that much he knew, but he was thankful when you didn’t push it further.

“Shall we begin?” You ask instead.

“Yeah.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi’s been trying to write again, you surmised, as you glanced at his focused eyes and the tenseness of his shoulders. Scattered papers still littered his desk and he was still trying to write his name. This time though, you were relieved when you saw he was using his left hand.

“Finally took my advice?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea.

“Regretting it.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers, something you noticed he always did. “It’s been three days since I took your advice and my handwriting’s shittier than it was then.”

You smile, hand reaching out to hold his incomplete one that was clenched into a fist on the desk. He immediately stops writing, opting to instead stare at your hand atop his before glancing up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you relax. You might tear your stitches.”

He feels you give his hand a gentle squeeze, and the warmth of your hand is suddenly gone from his own. You reach for the cup of tea you prepared, and he wills his cheeks to not show his blush at the small gesture. You slide the teacup across the table.

“What makes you think holding my hand will make me relax?” He asks snarkily. He reaches for the tea with his good hand.

“Are you relaxed?”

Levi ponders the question in his mind, noticing how his muscles were no longer tense, his shoulders were now slumped down, and his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. He sips the tea.

“Your brew’s still shit.” He replies instead.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I came here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Your head peaks out from behind his door as you enter, closing it with your foot and making your way to his desk. You were no longer surprised when you saw him still writing and scribbling messily at his desk as he’s done for days now, and you discreetly eye the papers as you pour him his tea.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me tea.” He comments, still focused on writing.

“I know.” You reply. “But how am I going to perfect your brew if I don’t practice?”

Levi glances up, and he raises his eyebrow as he sees you sat on his table, a cheeky grin on your face. He makes no move to scold you for being so casual in his office and instead reaches out to take a sip of the tea. He notices your expectant eyes, the grin on your face widening as he nods in approval.

“Your tea’s not bad today.”

“Really?! You think it’s good?”

“I said not bad, I didn’t say it was good.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

The first thing you noticed as you entered Levi’s office was, of course, the scattered paper around his desk, face focused as he continued to practice his writing. The second thing you noticed was that he was no longer using his left hand.

“It’s barely been two weeks. Did you give up already?” You ask as you pour his tea.

“I write better with my right hand.” He simply replies, not even glancing up as you slide him the beverage. He uses his good hand to reach out for the cup, silently preparing his tongue for another unpleasant attack.

He takes a sip and his eyebrows shoot up from surprise. The tea was... delicious, absolutely delicious, and Levi couldn’t find anything to complain about. The temperature was right, it wasn’t too bitter but wasn’t too sweet, and the aroma was delectable. He takes a sip once more to double check if his taste buds were deceiving him, but the second sip was just as good as the last.

His suspicious eye makes contact with yours, a shit eating grin painted on your face as you eagerly awaited his feedback. The porcelain makes a sound as he sets it down.

“You bought this from the tea shop across the barracks. That’s cheating.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Three soft knocks reverberate through the door to Levi’s office. The captain hastily hides the papers with your name scribbled on, shoving them inside his desk drawer. A shiny glint catches his eye before he could close the shelf and he pauses as he realizes it was his mirror. He hadn’t taken it out in a while. He was always too distracted with criticizing your piss poor tea to even think about his appearance.

“Name and business.” He calls out, still eyeing the shiny object.

“Hange Zoe. Y/N asked me to do your daily checkup.”

Levi's eyes widened, heartbeat stopping for a second as he heard Hange’s voice. Where were you?

“Come in.” He closes the drawer as the door opens and Hange walks in.

Levi couldn’t help but notice that he was becoming uncomfortable the closer his friend got; skin prickling, hands sweating, his collar feeling a little too tight. Little by little getting more conscious of himself as Hange walked closer.

Was this what insecurity felt like?

He briefly wonders why he didn’t feel it with you, but his mind answers him with a simple fact: you were the only person who’s seen him mangled and bruised, and each time, you showed nothing but gentleness and care. Yet even with this knowledge, the notion that a person other than you would be doing his checkup today didn’t sit right with him.

He pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind, telling himself to remain objective. But it didn’t stop him from subconsciously adjusting his eyepatch and hiding his incomplete hand underneath the desk. He eyes the tray in Hange’s hands, spotting the kettle and teacup.

“I don’t want your shitty tea.”

Hange doesn’t look up as they pour him a cup, humming a tune Levi doesn’t recognize as they hand him the warm beverage.

“It’s not my shitty tea.” They reply. “It’s Y/N’s shitty tea. They made you a batch before they left for the mission.”

Levi’s good hand pauses for a brief second as he reaches for the cup, mind still processing the fact that Hange said Y/N and mission. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and since he wasn’t allowed paperwork duty until he could write legibly, he wasn’t aware of any missions.

“I see.” He takes a sip, and he immediately squints his eyes in doubt once his tongue caught taste of the flavor. “This isn’t Y/N’s tea.”

Hange looks up from the clipboard they were writing on, eyebrows are arched in curiosity. “What?”

“This isn’t Y/N’s tea. This is from the tea shop down the road.”

Hange’s confused face stays still for a few seconds, silently assessing whether Levi was being serious or not. A smile cracks on their face, turning into a grin as small chuckles left their lips, before finally turning into full blown laughter. The captain waits for the eccentric soldier to stop cackling and start explaining, but Hange’s answer only serves to confuse him more.

“Nice try, shorty. You crack me up.”

Levi ignores the remark about his height. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N owns the tea shop down the road. Made the recipe for the black tea you love so much, even.”

The captain’s good eye twitches, and if Hange notices, they don't comment. Levi takes a sip of the tea once more, a little more doubtful this time, before sighing in content as the drink makes its way down his throat.

“Why did Y/N go on the mission? I thought they were to be my caretaker until further notice.” He chooses to ask, placing the cup down and pretending to busy himself as he absentmindedly starts practicing his writing.

“Y/N is our topic medic, their skills are more valuable on the battlefield than in an office with you.” They reply, and the captain pretends that the truthfulness of the statement doesn’t sting the slightest.

“Besides,” Hange pulls out white gloves from their pockets, sliding the cloth over their hands to prepare for the checkup. “Y/N personally asked to be reassigned.”

Levi sputters and chokes on his tea at the sudden revelation, and he feels Hange’s hand patting his back as he tries to compose himself. You asked to be reassigned? But why?

“Why?” He manages to choke out before once more descending into a coughing fit. Hange silently hands him a napkin.

“They didn’t say.”

Perhaps you were done with his incessant criticizing of your tea making skills (if so, then why’d you keep brewing him a crappy batch? Clearly you could’ve made good tea whenever you wanted.) Perhaps you grew tired of watching over him everyday when you could’ve been attending to more injured soldiers in the medical wing or the battlefield. Or perhaps you felt a little cooped up in the office with him, hating that you were confined when you could’ve gone on missions to help the wounded.

Whatever your reason may be, Levi finally gets himself to stop coughing and wipes his mouth. Any questions he had, he would ask you. For now, he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind to ask a more important question.

“Why are you here and not on the expedition, Commander?”

Hange shrugs.

“I wanted to bond over eyepatches with you.”

Levi was trying, okay? He was really trying.

But god, the new caretaker assigned to him was nothing short of a complete and utter noob. His bandages were always either too loose or too tight, his touches every time he tried to inspect Levi’s scars were always an ironclad grip, and worst of all, his tea was pure and utter shit.

“Watch it!” Levi barks, and his caretaker jumps about two feet away from him at his yell. “What’re you trying to do?! Are you inspecting my broken ribs or trying to give me a broken rib?”

Oh, that too. His caretaker was the hands on type, something Levi wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that his caretaker was also heavy-handed, and Levi had had enough of this bullshit.

“Stop it, just stop. Get out of my office, right now, and find me a new caretaker.”

“B-but, Captain, there’s no one else who can—“

His caretaker is cut off when he makes eye contact with the enraged captain. Levi’s eyebrows were knitted together in anger, and the glare on his left eye was nothing short of terrifying. The fact that he only had one good eye left did nothing to lessen the intimidation of his glare; if anything, it made it even more intimidating.

“I will not repeat my order. Go.”

The boy in front of him nods nervously, head bowed down and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs as he quickly scurries out of the room. Once Levi hears the soft click of the door shutting, he takes a deep breath and lets his body slump into his chair.

That was the fifth caretaker he’d kicked out this month. He wasn’t picky, he tells himself; he just had standards. Standards that apparently these damned amateurs they kept sending him couldn’t meet.

Briefly, his conscience contradicts him; the image of a certain top medic popping in his mind, one that he hadn’t spoken to in almost a month since they dropped him out of the blue. Maybe, just maybe, he was being picky. With a dash of passive aggressive and a sprinkle of butthurt. But Levi quickly brushes that thought aside when he remembers the incompetence of all his recent caretakers.

That was definitely it. He wasn’t petty, all his caretakers were simply idiots.

The captain hears three loud knocks on his wooden door, and he grits his teeth as he mentally prepares himself for whatever fuckery the clown caretaker they assigned to him was about to do this time. True to his words, Levi did end up breaking a rib from how heavy handed the last one was, and though he knew it was partially because his body was still quite fragile, it didn’t hurt his request for a new medic.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here to do your daily checkup.”

Levi feels his eyes widen and heart speed up, and he once again rushes to hide all the papers scribbled with your name as he shoves them into his desk drawer. He composes himself, trying to appear uninterested and professional as he speaks.

“Come in.”

The door squeaks open and Levi doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes soften and his shoulders slump in relief as he sees the familiar sight of you. A soft smile dawned on your face as you gently kicked the door close, walking towards his desk and setting down the tray you held in your hands.

“Heard you fired everybody who came after me.” You mused, eyes teasing as you poured him a cup of tea. He didn’t think he’d miss someone pouring him a cup of tea as much as he did now.

“Their tea was shit.” He replies, taking a sip of the warm beverage and holding back his sputter at the god awful taste. “Yours is too.”

You chuckle, picking up the clipboard and pen to start writing for today’s checkup. “Can’t help that I suck at brewing tea.”

“You don’t have to keep making me shit tea anymore. The secret’s out.”

You freeze in your spot, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before you nervously clear your throat. Levi definitely noticed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you own the tea shop, Y/N. Stop lying.”

You let out an irritated sigh. “Hange told you, didn’t they?”

“Yep.” He replies, popping the ‘p’.

I’m going to fucking kill Hange, you think to yourself, silently gathering your composure once more. Levi watches you intently, continuing to sip on the terrible tea before deciding that he’d assaulted his taste buds enough and placing it down.

“Why’d you do it?” You hear him ask. “And don’t lie to me. You’re not the only one who’s gotten better at spotting lies.”

Why’d you brew shitty him tea? Is he that affected by it?

Your reply was already on the tip of your tongue, head glancing up from your clipboard to say your answer. But your words don’t come out and your mind suddenly cleared when you saw the look in his eye.

Levi’s eyes were nothing short of gorgeous; a beautiful gunmetal gray with a gaze deadly enough to kill a man with one mere look. But right now, even though they were schooled into his usual look of disinterest, you could see him... wavering. A mix of unanswered questions, curiosity, and— for the briefest second you swore you saw— hurt.

“I take it you’re not asking me why I brewed you crappy tea for the past three months?”

Levi clicks his tongue in irritation. “No, you idiot. I’m asking you why you left out of the blue. If you had a problem you could’ve brought it up with me—“

“No!” You quickly interrupt. “No, god no, you’re perfect.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and you suddenly realize the words you’d spoken as you quickly try to explain before Levi could interject.

“There was no problem, okay? I didn’t request to be reassigned because I had a problem. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur.

He eyes you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I have a solution. May I?” You gesture, asking if you could sit on his desk. Levi nods, not understanding why you needed permission now when you’ve done it of your own volition countless times before, but he suddenly understands when you sit directly in front him and not across from him like you usually would.

He watches as you pull a small brown box from your jacket, placing it down onto his desk before opening it. Levi is quiet as he eyes the item inside.

“It’s just a prototype for now. I was hoping to carve out a better one in my free time, one that would be a custom fit, but my free time kinda went flying out the window when you started firing people left and right until no one would accept you but me.”

You pick up the wooden prosthetic fingers and gently place them onto his desk. Your hand opens palm up, waiting for Levi to be comfortable enough to lend his hand to you, and he does so silently.

“The prosthetic’s made from redwood and the joints are connected by small metal rods. It’s light and durable, and I weatherproofed it so it wouldn’t break down so easily when you use them.” You explain, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out the concept, actually. I just took a pair of standard issue Survey Corps gloves and cut out all the fingers. Then, y’know, attached the wooden fingers to where the pointer and middle should be.”

Levi could only nod. You weren’t sure if his silence was good or bad and you couldn’t read his look. But Levi— Levi was speechless. In his mind, he dared not speak in fear of looking like a fool. Especially not in front of the person who gave back a piece of himself (quite literally, at that.)

He tenderly looks at the way you fitted the prosthetics onto his own hand, fastening brown leather straps around his wrists to secure the glove. The minute the glove is on and he sees all five fingers for the first time since the explosion, he feels like he’s about to cry.

“I had Hange help me with the anatomy so you could still bend them as you would normal fingers. I couldn’t figure out how to make them move on their own though, so you’d have to manually do that yourself.”

To demonstrate, you bend one of the prosthetics, the wood imitating the bend of his finger but not springing back up despite his brain commanding it to do so. You watch intently as he fumbles around with his hand, moving the fingers about. The wonder and astonishment in his usually unimpressed eye didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it spurred you to continue on.

“Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough to flick the switches on ODM gear. You still have to relearn how to hold your blades when you’re cleared for training again.” You say regrettably. “But it’s strong enough to hold a pen.”

Your hand reaches for the forgotten quill across his desk, dipping it in the inkwell before offering it to him with a small smile. Levi slowly takes it, still speechless, as he readjusts his prosthetic to hold the quill and write.

His writing is still shit, undoubtedly; still no better than chicken scratches as he messily writes down the words. But god, the sight of the indiscernible handwriting next to five fingers brought tears to his eyes as he finally finished writing his name. The slightly legible letters of ‘Levi Ackerman’ stared back at him.

Levi couldn’t hold it back anymore. He immediately set the quill down before standing up to engross you in a warm embrace. You tense in his arms, not used to Levi willingly initiating any form of physical touch at all. But as he tucks his head into the curve of your neck and his shoulders start shaking, splotches of wet dripping onto your collarbones, you feel your arms encircle his waist, bringing him closer as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and let him cry in peace.

Your hands ran through his scalp, willing him to calm down. Though normally the sight of a crying Captain Levi was something you never thought you’d see, you couldn’t help but feel honored he chose to share this rare moment of vulnerability with you.

You let him cry, still holding onto him, giving him his time. Briefly, you wonder what he was thinking. What pushed him to tears? Did the captain ever let himself mourn his losses? Does he mourn his friends, his family, the little pieces of himself that he’d lost along the way?

Though you had a million questions in your mind you dared not pry as you continued to comfort the weeping man in front of you.

Finally, after a few moments of nothing but silent sniffles and your sweet words, Levi finds it in himself to finally speak.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Night had fallen around the base, encasing the world in darkness that beckons slumber. Levi continued to stay awake, still in his office, staring at the prosthetic you had given him hours before.

Curiously, he feels himself form his right hand into a fist, not surprised that the two wooden fingers didn’t comply like the rest. It was imperfect and he himself thought it could use some tiny adjustments for the sake of comfort— something he definitely would bring up to you as requested.

And yet, despite knowing his ‘fingers’ were nothing but wood, leather and metal, he couldn’t help but think it was the best thing he could ever ask for.

Silently, under the lone glowing light of his oil lamp, Levi pulls out a blank sheet of paper and begins to turn his feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into sentences as his quill meets the white surface.

Hours later, he finds himself in front of your quarters, a candle in his left hand while his right held a pristine white envelope. The envelope containing unsaid words, unspoken wishes, and hidden feelings.

Your eyes are sleepy when you answer the door, half lidded and hair a mess when his knocks had woken you from your slumber. You rub your eye, adjusting to the light as you stare at the person in front of you.

“Captain?” You ask, stifling a yawn. “What’re you doing here so late?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he opts to look at you with an unreadable expression as he asks, “Can I come in?”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, and the thought of you slamming the door on his face crossed Levi’s mind; but that didn’t happen. Rather, you nodded and ushered him inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him as you once again flopped onto your bed.

He places the candle down on your bedside table and now he was unsure what to do. He had a plan— or, he thought he had a plan— but awkwardly standing in your room in the middle of the night wasn’t part of it.

Quietly, you chuckle at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest looking so odd and out of place, unsure and slightly panicked. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit, and he complies.

Both of you had your knees pulled up to your chests and you were thankful when you noticed Levi had taken his shoes off before sitting on the bed. A comfortable silence encompasses the atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the close proximity.

From the corner of your eye, Levi looked like he was deep in thought. Not the kind you saw plenty of times in the battlefield or in strategy meetings, not the kind you saw when you entered his office as he hastily tried to hide his mirror. But the kind you saw when he quietly suffered through his own living hell.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. He shakes his head.

“Well, what brings the mighty Captain Levi to my humble little room?”

“Levi.”

“What?”

“Call me Levi.” He murmurs, downcast staring intently at the envelope on his lap. “In this room, I’m not your captain. I’m not your patient. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest.”

You feel your eyebrows scrunch as surprise and curiosity paint your face, but not because of the captain’s offer to call him so casually. No— the surprise you showed was because he unclasped the prosthetic you made, not even sparing it a second glance as he carelessly threw it to you, and you barely managed to catch the limbs you’d spent countless hours and sleepless nights to create.

“Levi, what are you—“

“But I’m not a broken teacup for you to fix either.” He says, eyeing the stumps on right hand. “I’m not a doll who’s missing some parts. I’m not a charity case accepting donations.”

You were looking at him now, head turned in his direction as he unclasps his eyepatch and lets it fall onto his lap. He raises his head, eyes making contact with yours.

“I’m just Levi.”

A few moments of silence pass but neither of you look away. The reason why the captain continued to stare wasn’t something you knew. But the reason why you never looked away was because of his eyes.

Levi’s eyes were still as gorgeous as you remembered them to be. Though his right eye was a different shade from his left, a lighter and paler shade of gray; though it lacked the light and emotions his unharmed eye bore; though it had a jagged scar running through it from where he was hit, you couldn’t help but think that his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.

Gingerly, you lift up your hand to touch the right side of his face where his battle wounds lie, the prosthetic forgotten as it falls somewhere in the sheets. He doesn’t flinch like he did the first few times you did it, when you reached for his face during checkups to inspect his scars. But it didn’t stop you from asking.

“May I?”

Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings your hand to rest on his cheek as his head leaned closer to your touch. His eyes closed momentarily, almost as if he were reveling in your warmth. But they opened once more, and you willed yourself not to get lost in the sea of gray.

“You were never a charity case to me, Levi. Or any of the things you just said.”

“Then what am I to you?”

Your heart stops, eyes widening ever so slightly at his question. Would you tell him? No, you couldn’t. Not when—

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to distract you from your thoughts. You realize the hand that held your own against his cheeks was his broken hand, his mutilated hand.

...would you really tell him?

You sigh, eyes finally leaving his. “You’re just another soldier who got hurt from a battle, asking a medic to take the pain away.”

Your hand slips out of his grip and goes back to your side, and you turn away from him once more.

“Are you lying?” He asks.

“No.”

“Then look into my eyes and tell me what I am to you.”

“I can’t.”

Your voice cracks ever so slightly, hesitant but determined to stick to your words. And Levi knew that he was never going to get an answer. He sighs, shoulders slumping down in defeat. It was now his turn to look away from you, gaze falling to his lap. The envelope holding the letter crinkles and he’s reminded why he’s here.

“I know.” He whispers back. “But do me a favor.”

He doesn’t look your way as he hands you the letter. He doesn’t look your way when you silently took it, eyeing the red wax seal that bore his initials, fingers tracing over the edges before—

“Don’t open it yet. Open it tomorrow morning before you come in for my checkup.”

You only nodded in response. You reached out, placing the envelope on your bedside table before once again sitting next to Levi. Just as you had started, a comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the proximity.

But this time, it was he who breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what the future holds.” He repeats. “I could die in action tomorrow and be one of the bodies they wheel back from war, or you could die trying to save someone in the battlefield. Even if neither of us die tomorrow, there’s always a possibility that we’ll die the day after that. And the day after that and the day after that. Such are the risks of our jobs.”

He takes a deep breath. “But tonight, I don’t want to focus on tomorrow. I don’t want to focus on what the future holds. I don’t want to focus on titans or enemy troops or looking after my team.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.”

Your eyes soften. “But what am I to you?”

You didn’t know what to expect, what his answer may be. But you know you didn’t expect it when Levi’s fingers gently grabbed your chin and coaxed your head to look in his direction. You didn’t expect it when you opened your eyes and met his, his warm palm resting on your cheek. And what you didn’t expect most was for his eyes to look at you with so much love, so much care and adoration. Gone were the facades of boredom and disinterest; the stoicness and detachment they always seemed to reflect. All there was left was softness, warmth, and what seemed to be the unmistakable swirls of vulnerability.

“You’re just another medic too busy putting other peoples’ lives before your own.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.” He whispers. “But you make me want to plan for a future I know we won’t have— a future we can’t have.”

And for the first time, you knew he meant it. You knew what he meant.

In your line of work full of death and violence and risks almost too big to take. In what you once thought was your little world, turning out to be too big for you to handle. In your personal brand of hell where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and loss was the only constant— it was enough. This small moment was enough.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You whispered, entranced. A soft chuckle leaves Levi’s lips, eyes turning into crescent moons so fitting of his gray orbs and your heart twitches at the sight and sound of his melodious laughter.

His thumb brushes over your cheek and your eyes meet his once again, the beautiful shades of gray staring you back. You didn’t know who did it first but at this point you didn’t care enough to find out because slowly, you both leaned in. Slowly, you both closed your eyes. And slowly, you both tilted your heads.

He pauses.

“May I?” Levi asks, lips merely inches away from yours. You nod.

“You may.”

And suddenly, the distance between your lips was no more.

There were no fireworks, no explosions in your heart or butterflies in your belly. There was no feeling of cloud nine, no feeling of want or need. There was only warmth in your chest, the feeling of a small fireplace crackling and glowing in the coldness of the night. The feeling of warm sheets and warm bodies cuddled up in an embrace.

Home.

The feeling of home.

Because that’s what you were to Levi, and what Levi was to you.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your routine checkup.”

“Come in.”

As the door opens and you set the tray down on his desk, hands gently holding the kettle to pour him his cup of tea, you noticed that Levi was still trying to write. But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that it was no longer his name he tried to scribble, opting to write down complete sentences. What caught your attention was that he was wearing his prosthetics, and his eyepatch wasn’t on.

“Did you read the letter?” He asks. His hands were still writing and his eyes were still staring at the papers in front of him. But you could tell he was anxious.

“Yes.” You simply reply, and he nods.

“Good.”

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

#the bit where levi visits oc #is my favorite part to write #and the lil banter at the start too #i love banter but i also love sweet little words #this is proof that i can be romantic without calling someone a dumbass #writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk imagine #shingeki no kyojin imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagine

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realcube · 4 years ago

Text

haikyuu!! characters with a chubby! s/o 💗

characters: tsukishima, oikawa, atsumu, osamu & suna

thank you anon for this cute request 🥺

tw// comfort, fluff, angst if you squint, insecure! reader, swearing, they/them reader but reader wears a dress (in osamu’s)

(a/n): anon requested comfort but i feel bad bc i’m writing this like ‘no, (y/n)! stop being sad! you’re beautiful! 😡’ then i remember that i can just select+delete the pain away💗💖

Kei Tsukishima

let’s not pretend like tsukki gives a fuck what you look like tbh ✋

like nobody is ‘perfect’ and everyone is insecure (to varying degrees) so why would he care about your weight?

nobody ticks every single box to meet society’s definition of ‘beauty’

plus, tsukki thought beauty standards were stupid away so he created his own - and you meet every single one 💖

in fact, almost everyone meets his beauty standards - besides himself ‘:)

he seriously doesn’t care about your weight tbh, it’s the most trivial thing so why would he care?

although, he wasn’t naïve enough to think that everyone was like-minded

your front of ‘i don’t care about what other people think of me’ was strong enough to fool even the most observant of poeple, including tsukki

however, tsukishima failed to take into consideration that you were his girlfriend, meaning that you could be playing the same game as him; ‘pretend to not care about superficial things like beauty so nobody will think for a second that you are insecure about your body’

he wasn’t one to give compliments but neither were you tbh so the mutual agreement y’all have of ‘let’s call each other names as a form of endearment to avoid those awkward moments were you are looking for the right words for praise but can’t come up with anything’ was fair

but after you accidentally sent him a self-deprecating ‘joke’ message that was clearly meant for a friend, he never passed up the opportunity to compliment you ever again

like he kinda just stared at the message like 😮 ‘does (y/n) seriously care about their weight? why? it doesn’t even matter. how stupid! who told them that the shape of their body is important? bc it’s not..’

then he turns to look in the mirror like ‘wow you srsly need to put on muscle, lanky bitch. or else (y/n) will probably leave you for some built jackass like kuroo. pick up some weights, noodle arms!’

anyway, he’s not too good with words and comfort in situations like these but he’ll probably reply to your text with something out-of-character and surprisingly sweet

to paraphrase (bc the actual text would probably be like a whole damn persuasive essay LMAO he starts with the introduction, makes five points and finishes with a conclusion pfft) , i think it would be something like: ‘hey, (y/n). ik that text was probably meant for one of your friends (but if they’re the ones making you feel bad about your weight then you should probably drop those toxic cunts anyway 💅✨) but i just wanted to say that even though you are the biggest clown i’ve ever met (/j) you’re still v beautiful 💗 stop being insecure or i’ll pass away ⚰💀 ok thx love you bye’

Tōru Oikawa

how are you insecure if you’re dating oikawa? /j

like he is such a hypeman

whenever y’all take pics in your ✨fancy outfits ✨ for formal event, he acts as though you are second most beautiful thing on the face of this earth 😍 (second to him ofc)

but he only does that so he can keep up the reputation he has of being effortlessly confident bc he’s scared that if it slips for even a second, everyone will see how truly insecure he is

truthfully, in his eyes, you come first place by miles (❤ ω ❤)

like srsly, you’re so gorgeous in that dress!! he hopes that you know that he is joking about the whole ‘second place’ thing bc you should be able to tell by the way he looks at you that you’re genuinely the most striking person he’s ever laid his eyes on

you never acted overly confident in front of him but he definitely didn’t think you were as insecure as you are

he thought you were just..humble :)

sometimes he’d hear you mutter something mean about yourself as you passed the mirror but he paid no mind to it as he figured that you just cared about your appearance and wanted to maintain a certain image

however, once he was made aware that you didn’t want to maintain your image but rather, change it - he never let you murmur anything nasty about yourself under your breath ever again, not without proceeding to tackle you to the ground and shower you with his love, affection & praise 💞💕❤

and he never made a ‘second place’ joke ever again, he started his honesty streak by reassuring you that you’ll always be the number one in his eyes 🤩

also, after that, he was a lot more open about his own insecurities with you and you made sure to respect them and help him in a similar way that he did

there is just so much love and admiration between the two of you and at first you were both to shy to express it but now, you both are showering each other in compliments 24/7 bc you both just want the other one to know how perfect you view them as (❁´◡`❁)

Atsumu Miya

atsumu is a hypeman like oikawa but...better :)

IT’S BC HE HAS NO SHAME

he’ll compliment you on anything you wear and he makes it a point to use the most inappropriate compliment as possible, relative to the outfit you’re wearing

so if you’re wearing your pyjamas, he’ll call you ‘glamourous’

if you are wearing a swimsuit, he’ll call you ‘elegant’

if you’re in your work clothes/school uniform, he’ll call you ‘sexy’

and if you’re in lingerie, he’ll call you ‘adorable’

but it makes you blush so hey, no complaints

so when he finds out that you’re actually insecure about your weight, he’s just like ‘no ❤’

like he hates the idea that when you look in the mirror, you don’t see the god(dess) he sees

like why? it’s the same person

💞 fuck ‘perception’ 💞

💕 ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ TF YOU ARE THE FUCKING BEAUTY💕

grrr he was so mad

but he was also soft

he was like ‘if (y/n) insecure? then why hot? then why pretty? then why fit perfectly into my arms?’

plus, THIGHS

he’d never diss a person bc they had small thighs or anything BUT he’d also NEVER complain about being given the chance to be with someone with some good thighs 👍

tbh the best could do to help was compliment you ten times harder to eliMINATE ALL YOUR INSECURIES

(and ofc i don’t mean that in a way - for example - if you’re insecure about your nose, he’ll fkn chop it off......he won’t chop your nose off LMAO he’ll just show you how much he loves it, to the point where you have no choice but to love it too ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ )

anyway, plz love (or at least, tolerate) yourself or else he’ll suffocate you with all his love and affection :D

Osamu Miya

osamu is at a loss when it comes to typical beauty standards tbh

to him, weight (and most things) are similar to..hand size, for example

just like how you can’t imagine someone feeling self-conscious about the size of their hand (especially if their hand is a healthy size)

he can’t imagine why some one would be shamed for their weight (especially if they’re a healthy size)

so had no idea you could possibly be insecure about something like that and he probably on realised after a few years in the relationship 😅

there was a formal event coming up and y’all were going as dates so you wanted to shop for outfits together

as couples do ✌

anyway, he was on a dress site, scrolling away until you pointed out one that you thought was pretty - and it matched the color of the tie osamu bought too!

it was a fair price (for a formal dress 🙄 which is probably like $68/50) so osamu was like ‘buy it then ( •̀ ω •́ )✧’ bc he thought it would so gorgeous on you

but you were like ‘no’

and after he pried further, you explained how you thought it wouldn’t ‘suit your body type’

GRRR HE dislikes IT WHEN PPL SAY THIS SO MUCH BC HOE YOU DON’T HAVE A BODY TYPE YOU’VE GOT A BODY 😡💕 WEAR THE DAMN DRESS IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BEAUTIFUL

but like deadass it’s not your blood type- it’s just a thing ppl made up to make ppl (mostly women) feel bad about themselves for no reason

but that might just be his inner atsumu talking 🤷‍♂️

he didn’t even know what to say at first- he was just like ????? body type ????

but once he figured out what you meant, he still had no idea what to say- at least, without sounding rude

what if someone came up to you and told you they were insecure about the shape of their knee.......what do you even say???

so he was silent for like the rest of the day

you decided to give him some space just in case something happened which had upset him

he had no idea what to say, in all honesty, so he hoped that his actions spoke louder than words

around 3 days had passed since you last spoke to osamu and you were beginning to think something you had said made him uncomfortable

you were studying in your room until there was a ring at your door so you rushed downstairs and you opened it to reveal a package sitting on your doormat

you had recently ordered some cleaning equipment so you were sure that the content of the package was probably that

so imagine your surprise when you tear it open to reveal — you guessed it — the dress 💕

Rintarō Suna

when he says that he doesn’t care what ppl look like, he means it

he upkeeps his own appearance though bc..it’s his!

like why would he care about what weight you are? that’s none of his business

as you can tell, he’s generally not shallow but sometimes when y’all are just cuddling and your face is pressed to his chest, the words ‘you’re so cute’ just fall from his lips

so ofc he appreciates compliments over his skills, personality, humour etc over flattery about his appearance

hence, the praise he gives you is usually based around those things too bc he just thinks that you’re just like him in the fact you don’t appreciate skin-deep comments

so when he found out that you’re actually insecure about your weight (or something else), he kinda blames himself

he thinks that the whole reason you’re not extremely confident in your appearance is all due to him and the fact he fact he maybe didn’t compliment you on your looks enough — but that’s not to say that he doesn’t think you’re beautiful

you’re the most radiant person he’s ever laid his eyes on and he thought you knew that regardless of whether he vocalised it or not

he wasn’t really sure what to do tbh

bc he loved you and wanted to comfort you ofc but he was scared of making things worse

like what if something he says accidentally makes you so upset that you break-up with him 😭

but he knew he couldn’t just stay silent about the issue, especially when he wanted to say to much

thus, he sent you a heartfelt message on discord

(rather than snap, whatsapp etc so he could edit it after he posts it bc knowing him, he’ll probably write something, reread it ten times then as soon as he hits send, he spots a bunch of mistakes)

and he’d explain how you’re simply divine regardless of your insecurity and if anything, it just makes you cuter 😍

ok ok so i really don’t want it so seem like he has a fetish bc HE DOESN’T

but he think your curves are so fun and pretty ❤

like everything about you is pretty but suna just can’t comprehend why you’re insecure about something like your weight when he literally adores it (bc he adores everything about you)

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squarebracket-trickster · 6 months ago

Text

The gaslighting is so real.

(wow, I should probably have put all this under a readmore the first time. sorry literally everyone else whose dash this will show up on. RIP.)

I was the slowest runner out of all the kids at school, despite being one of the most active (6-8 hours of martial arts, 5 hours of swimming per week, and walking 30 mins one way to school every day when I was 12). I didn't realize there might be a reason for this. I just thought, "oh I probably just don't push myself hard enough in martial arts and swimming. If I tried harder I'd build up the cardio and muscles but my willpower sucks." But it was like, no matter how much I exercized I never seemed to get fitter and if I took even a week off from my extracurriculars most of my muscle tone and strength would be gone. Of course, I thought that was normal and that people who had really toned muscles must just not take breaks. But I do, because I don't have enough willpower to show up for last every class and practice on my own, obviously.

And running hurt too. It was really hard on my knees and the arches of my feet. I remember thinking how much mentally stronger all the other kids were because they would run around for half an hour and act like the pain didn't bother them. I was like, "what's wrong with me? why am I so weak-minded?"

Same with standing. Even as an adult I'd be at some event where everyone was standing around talking and I'd be barely able to focus on the conversation because I just needed to sit down. So I'd be thinking to myself, "how does everyone else do it? surely everyone is uncomfortable right now and they have a higher discomfort/pain tolerance than me."

I've internalized this "I am a wimp who can't even cope with the smallest bit of discomfort" attitude so much that when, last week, my knee was acting up bad - like use a cane and put a compression brace on bad - I spent the whole week justifying the cane and brace to myself by saying "they're just a preventative measure so it doesn't get worse. Yes, I can walk just fine without them but my physio said it was okay to use them and it does take the pain away." But I was still 50% convinced I was just doing it for attention (what attention? literally no one remarked on the cane at all). I told myself all week, yeah, "my pain is at like a 3. It's fine." Until I randomly woke up one morning and the pain had completely disappeared. Now, being able to compare what my knee felt like in pain versus with no pain at all. No. It was more like a 5 or 6.

I completely get the thinking all your struggles are a moral failing on your part due to a lack of resilience/willpower/discipline.

I remember as a kid wishing I would get badly injured somehow so that I would have a "real" reason to act so "weak" all the time. You make complete sense.

A less dramatic example was at my last job I would stretch and pull at my body constantly because if I didn't everything would feel stiff and like it was in the wrong place

Gah! this is me! I am constantly twisting, pulling, stretching, cracking, trying to crack and failing (only thing worse than a joint that cracks is a joint that won't crack) every single joint in my body. Nothing ever feels like it is sitting right. Things always feel puffy and the angles of my joints are wrong. I probably have 10 different elaborate contortions I've discovered over the years to crack my back. (Though I have to be careful bc one time I subluxated my elbow while trying to crack my back. Something cracked. But it was wrong crack... oops.)

I honestly have such a microaggression against people acting like it's gross when my body cracks or hyperextends. Like, I'm sorry a very natural thing my body does makes you want to vomit but at least you don't have to live in this flesh suit 24/7. Imagine how mentally ill I would be if I was as disgusted with my own body as you are. On the other hand, your face makes me want to vomit so maybe you shouldn't show that in public either. And when people tell me not to crack my joints in from of them... okay, great, bye!! No one's forcing you to stay in this room. Imagine thinking I care about you more than I care about getting rid of that shooting pain in my left rib.

They'd tell me to exercise to strengthen my body, feel better, and cope with the fatigue but when the problem didn't get magically better after that they told me that working out was causing it. Then it was drink more water and eat more salt and when that wasn't a cure-all it was "you're eating too much salt" even though my sodium levels were green.

Uh huh. I got so sick of being told to drink more water I started keeping track of how much I was drinking in a day, because I knew I was drinking more than enough already. I was constantly so thirsty throughout the day I couldn't not drink water. It was physically impossible for me to forget because a sore throat, dizziness, and a migraine would remind me. Turns out I drink between 10.5 to 12 cups of water a day just to not feel thirsty.

I had a conversation with my doctor at one point that went like, "I have so much eczema and I get these random hives and acid reflux and heart burn. I know you don't want to pursue further testing for MCAS because my blood test didn't show up weird but there has to be something we can do." And all he said to me was, "just don't eat the foods that cause these." And I was like, "I can't? I can't not eat sugar (including grains bc they break down into sugar), and wheat, and dairy, and like half the fruits, and vegetable oils, and any vegetable that might possibly have been sprayed a dozen specific pesticides. That's like literally every food. I can barely afford to eat ancient grain, sourdough, low-sugar, goat milk, organic as it is?!?!"

And then of course I have listen to random people on the internet absolutely dunk on organic food, sourdough, and gluten-free foods and claim they are just "nonsense health food fads" for gullible upper-middle class Whole Foods shoppers and "crunchy moms". Look, do not doubt for a moment that if I could just go get take out from McDonalds and be fine I swear I would. But that's besides the point.

Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due July '24, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

#square rambles about hypermobility once again #long post #sorry guys hahahahahahaha

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leia-imogen · 3 years ago

Text

aaron & the family he's found all by himself; vol. 1 // vol. 2

( ft. the first meeting & the first family game night )

okay, rundown of his first meeting w the vixens!

the vixens don't really like the foxes. they cheer at their games and all, but outside of that, they mostly stick with the football players

bcs, well, the foxes are,, intimidating and most of the vixens don't get how or why katelyn started dating one

especially one half of the terrifying duo that is the twinyards. like these tiny blonde angst goblins have absolutely zero chill, and this is the backliner one, the one that shattered the nose of a dude basically twice his size

they may be short as fuck but they're scary, and the vixens are worried that he might break katelyn's heart

but katelyn's sure about aaron minyard, and when cleo softly asks, "is he worth it?" she knows her answer is a yes

savannah and the rest of the girls aren't convinced tho, so she asks aaron if he'll meet them for one of the afterparties they have after games

he agrees after seeing the hopeful look on her face

and surprise, surprise, it isn't a complete disaster!!

see, aaron has a habit of mirroring the nature of the person he's with. in the book, we mostly see him as an asshole bcs it's from neil's pov, and neil, as much as i adore him, is an asshole

i think that when he's with nicky ( someone he loves and trusts ), he's like, nicer. it's not in his nature to be cheery or anything but he's less,, hostile? and way more relaxed

and katelyn's been nothing but sweet and polite to him, bcs katelyn's sweet and polite till you give her a reason not to be

so he's sweet and polite back, or at least, sweet and polite as aaron minyard can get.

yeah, he's definitely interesting enough, clever and quick-witted enough, respectful and loyal and insanely talented enough, that katelyn decides he's worth it. doubts he'll ever get boring

and yes, she knows this is a big risk, bcs she knows the foxes' rep, knows how fucked up he must to secure a place on the psu foxes, notices how aaron flinches when she makes any sudden movement

but you know what? fuck it

so when aaron tells her his strange, twisted little deal with his brother, katelyn's willing to fight for him

and after nearly 2 months of this, she drags him to the vixens with their fingers interlocked and a hope in her heart that they'd play nice like she's asked ( practically begged ) them to

aaron's buzzing a bit with nervous energy. it's very endearing, how his eyes had lit up at the sight of her, then how she felt her anxiety about the night melt away into excitement

sav tries, bless her, tries to engage aaron in half-hearted conversation about exy ( which she hates ) and aaron tries back, but that fizzles out bcs for someone on a full-ride exy scholarship, aaron doesn't like exy at all

thank god that marissa, who's been trying to be less of a bitch all night, bless her too, lets it slip that sav detests exy

"okay, i can't anymore. minyard, savannah actually hates exy and she hates the foxes too, but we're hoping that you're an exception."

aaron, holding back a laugh: honestly? same.

sav: oh thank fucking GOD we have something to talk about then

"yeah, the entire sport sucks, doesn't it? i literally play it at college level and i still have barely figured out the goddamn rules."

"exactly! and my entire family's fucking obsessed for some reason, it's so annoying! ugh and the foxes suck even more, they're all so goddamn rude for no reason. except maybe the cute goalie."

". . ."

"eww not your brother, i meant renee walker,, and maybe you're not too bad either, minyard."

"you flatter me."

katelyn watches their exchange with more than a little amusement. aaron's not smiling, but his features have softened and he's flushed from the alcohol he'd had and she can't rly believe that this is the boy who they all thought would break her heart

bcs later when aaron comes up to her with a cookie dough cupcake ( her favourite ) she didn't even know was served at the party, leans into her so his face is buried in her neck, whispers "thanks for taking me", when she takes in all her friends laughing and chatting and waving at her, when sav gives her a thumbs-up and nods to aaron, she's never felt more whole

like she was part of something bigger than herself

then aaron starts hanging around them more! yeah he saw the look on katelyn's face and he was going to TRY for her or so help him- usually just with katelyn, sav, and cleo

she invites him to the "family game night" sav is making them have, and he's like "sure why not."

he knocks on the door of sav and cleo's dorm and sav lets him in

"yo, minyard! glad you make it, katelyn's out on a donut run but she'll be back soon."

okay,, okay. so he'll,,, what? interact w people?? hell fucking no

then he realises that it's only cleo in the dorm, plugged into her headphones, playing mario kart, and thanks katelyn for ensuring there would only be ppl that like, he didn't mind

the other vixens were okay, but way too LOUD, and aaron wasn't rly up for spending a whole night w them

cleo hands him a controller, an invitation to play, and he takes it gratefully. he and cleo hadn't talked that much at the party, but she was perfectly tolerable so far, which was a good sign

and mario kart was a part of his childhood, one of the only few that nicky's parents had owned, so he and his cousin had spent hours curled up in front of tv trying to beat each other

even tho he beats nicky most of the time, cleo absolutely destroys him. he mentally tries to brush it off as him being rusty ( which he definitely is ) but damn, cleo's good. still, she brushes off the compliment when aaron blurts it out

okay so then katelyn comes back with like way too many donuts and they start playing monopoly gathered around the coffee table

sav insists on putting on some music. wannabe starts playing. she winks at aaron and aaron winks back, still not smiling. cleo snorts and katelyn kisses his cheek

listen, cleo is a monopoly master. soon, she owns over half the board and it's pretty clear she's gonna win, someone ( savannah riley jameson, everyone ) flips the board

"jameson, what the actual fuck."

"shut the hell up, minyard."

"come on, sav, i was winning!"

katelyn's trying to pick up all the pieces and aaron bends down to help her, shaking his head at sav, who pouts and joins them while cleo grins, headphones slung around her shoulders while she perches herself onto the arm of the settee and hums to wake me up before you go-go

next, sav begs them to play twister. cleo's great at most games, but she has a particular dislike for twister, so she's out quick

katelyn is super bendy, bcs she took gymnastics for years, and aaron holds his own surprisingly well, considering the fact that he's short as fuck

sav: katie, right hand red

katelyn, ending up right on top of a blushing aaron: okay, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

sav: i stopped spinning like 15 turns ago, i'm surprised you didn't notice sooner

eventually aaron collapses and katelyn is hailed as the queen of twister and they spend the next 10 minutes just calling out random spots for katelyn to try

she gets all of them, and aaron is actually smiling now and it doesn't matter that it's only a tiny quirk of his lips, it's something and katelyn cherishes it

they play some sort of surgeon simulator thingy next, and aaron "gonna be a future neurosurgeon" minyard is awesome at it, bcs duh

katelyn's not very good at this. her hands get SHAKY okay

cleo also sucks at this, bcs she keeps getting nervous and having muscle spasms. sav's just doing the dumbest shit bcs it's bringing aaron closer to the edge of cardiac arrest

aaron: jameson holy shit what are you DOING

sav, slicing open the spinal cord: okay so what if i take out the lungs through the back haha

and now sav is sulking over the fact that she hadn't absolutely murdered the others at a game

so she brings out the ultimate game. the game of bastards, one that tears families apart, sets friendships on fire, starts wars too gruesome to be started by anything other than this wretched, cursed artefact. . .

s c r a b b l e

aaron's already having war flashbacks. katelyn groans and goes to make popcorn, bcs this shit's gonna take FOREVER and she knows it. cleo, an english major, is preparing herself for battle with the force of nature that is savannah

"the fuck do you MEAN fergalicious isn't a word???"

"savannah, please."

"no, here, listen to this."

"sav, we were listening to that!" katelyn complains. sav sighs and switches the song back to her "90's bops" playlist, then changes it to "hell yeah feminism" which instantly starts playing run the world ( girls )

katelyn happily starts singing and aaron's not even reluctant to hum along

sav and cleo are still arguing. this has been going on for so long. sav looks ready to flip over the board again, so cleo does it first

katelyn: cleo what the heck

cleo, the tired mom friend: don't fucking curse

aaron is also tired, but in a good way, in kind of that soft lazy droopy way

he falls asleep leaning against the sofa and katelyn's shoulder, with god is a woman playing in the background while sav and cleo continue arguing. cleo is standing on the coffee table. it's true anarchy

he wakes up on the sofa with a blanket thrown over him and sunlight streaming in through the lacy curtains and katelyn making a complete mess of the kitchen in a futile attempt to make breakfast. sav and cleo are draped across each other on the floor

katelyn, struggling to pick up burning toast: morning babe, how did you sleep?

aaron, calmly using a pair of tongs: pretty well. who wants pancakes?

sav, instantly shooting up: DID YOU SAY PANCAKES

so he makes pancakes! nicky taught him as soon as he'd gained custody of the twins, so he's pretty much an expert. he tries to teach katelyn, but then just gives up bcs she's clearly not listening in favour of staring at him

and they all gather around the coffee table and cleo's humming along to the song on her headphones and wow these pancakes are rly good omg

while aaron is chatting to cleo about what video games they should play next, sav whispers, "kate finley, if you don't marry this boy just for his god-tier pancakes, i will."

"sav, you're a lesbian."

"not anymore, i've decided that i am pancake-sexual."

aaron hears all of this btw, bcs cleo stops when she hears them talking. he blushes, and smiles, just a little bit

( if anyone actually cares about this, tell me! shoot me an ask if there's any particular ask you want to see with these characters, or just the foxes! )

#aaron & the family he's found all by himself #yes i’m aware that no one cares #and that this is horribly written but i’m exhausted so. . .#i pinky-swear the next one will be sort of better #hopefully #aftg headcanons #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #aaron minyard headcanons #the vixens #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #twinyards #nicky hemmick #katelyn aftg #katelyn finley #sav jameson #cleo magdalene

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blushnote · 5 years ago

Note

hi can i request seungcheol smut where reader rides him and he has like. daddy kink but it’s also soft sex?? where there’s lots of praise to the reader bc she’s just been needing some love and affection..... cheol’s being the sweetest guy and holding her close to him n kissing her everywhere n saying stuff like “so good for daddy” “daddy’s good girl is eager isn’t she?” “tell daddy it feels good” AAAAAA

↳ requested | 2.0k words

↳ seungcheol smut

a/n: okay this literally KILLED me to write… i had to take several breaks from the keyboard because i was burning the hell up. but i enjoyed it thoroughly!

you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with the urge to cry, the harsh, stinging salts burning against your eyes as you unlock seungcheol’s apartment and slip inside quietly. everything started falling apart at work. you despise the management who expects you to perform flawlessly, the entitled customers baring their teeth to your face as they press their frustrations down on you; even some of your coworkers are greatly testing your patience.

nothing has been going right. you feel like a paper boat that has to endure an endless, wicked trip across the sea. to make matters worse, seungcheol hasn’t been home for a few days, leaving you to do some ‘apartment-sitting’ while he was occupied with his own schedule. he only came home today, right after you left for your closing shift. now, it was nighttime outside, everything cold and slippery as the morning snowfall hardened into black, treacherous ice.

you aren’t sure if seungcheol is asleep or not.

with cautious movement, you remove your button-down coat and slip off your shoes. at the kitchen sink you wash your hands beneath the warm water, hoping to heat them up. no matter what you do, you can’t stop sniffling, making pitiful attempts to suckle back the tears that desire to flow so badly. you keep scrubbing and scrubbing the flesh of your hands, thinking that somehow your sadness will eventually swirl away, deep down the drain.

suddenly, you detect the light sound of footsteps. seungcheol enters the kitchen, though you’re too afraid to face him, so you continue rubbing your hands beneath the warm water.

“i haven’t seen you in a while.” seungcheol greets you happily.

you feel him gently grasp your hips as his presence fills the space behind you, his chest snuggling against your back. he’s warm and smells of faint vanilla. you yearn to melt into him, especially when his lips touch the base of your shoulder and he’s kissing your skin sweetly.

“how are you, baby?” he murmurs against your ear’s cusp, the depth of his voice igniting a comfortable heat in your abdomen.

“fine,” you respond curtly, unable to peel your gaze away from the sink, “how was your schedule?”

seungcheol doesn’t respond immediately, rather he stiffens slightly behind you, sensing that there’s something a little peculiar about your behaviour. you haven’t even spared him a glance, your voice is uncharacteristically lacklustre, and the manner in which you harshly scrub your hands imbues an air of uneasiness. whatever is it, the situation isn’t sitting right with him.

“my schedule was alright.” seungcheol replies while reaching out to shut off the taps, “but i don’t think you are.”

he then spins you around, attempting to examine your face. it instantly becomes clear to him that you’re upset. your eyes are slightly reddened, akin to glass that’s close to shattering. upon grabbing you a tea towel to dry your skin, seungcheol cups your cheek and tilts your head up, his thumb picking up a cold, pained tear. you can’t even be bothered to wipe your hands properly. you simply rub them out on your tight, black work pants.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” seungcheol urges you calmly. “did something bad happen?”

“i-i don’t know,” you stutter, turning your face into seungcheol’s palm, “i’m kind of having a bad time right now, like, at work and stuff.”

“oh no. i’m so sorry, baby. it must be really difficult.” seungcheol tenderly sweeps his thumb below your eye. “do you wanna talk about it? i’m not even tired. i can listen to you all night.”

you manage a weak shrug. right now, you’re unsure of what you want to express. as much as it might be rewarding to open your muddled heart, you don’t think you’re in the right mind frame for tolerable coherency and articulation. you feel it’s better to wait until tomorrow, when you have the entire day to yourselves. then, you can really mope, maybe even tear into a pint of ice cream if need be.

“n-not right now.” you tell seungcheol.

instead, you long for a different kind of care. swallowing thickly, you look into the soft honey of his eyes and ask him politely: “can you please just kiss me?”

you love seungcheol because you know he’ll be there for you unconditionally. even through his kisses, you can sense the solace and compassion. his warmth is one of the few remedies that effectively heals your wounds. things escalate quickly. you and seungcheol move to the living room where he sits back on the couch. you pop the clasp on your work pants and shuffle the constricting material down your legs, which feels like shedding a second, abysmal skin.

seungcheol instantly reaches for you, pulling you into his lap. he kisses your mouth until it’s as bright as a ruby gem. you love the sharp taste of mint on his tongue, to which you can’t help but suckle on the wet muscle, baring through the messy saliva that wets your chin. seungcheol unbuttons your white blouse. per every inch of skin he reveals, he makes sure to leave a soft, open-mouthed kiss. your fingertips sheath into his shoulders as he pushes your bra down.

“does this feel good, baby?” seungcheol hums, gently squeezing your breast in one hand just before he lightly drags his tongue across the other.

“y-yes, daddy,” you stumble, “fe-feels so good…”

he gently takes your perked nipple between his teeth and tugs. you release a small, delicate cry at the sensation. beneath you, his thick length pokes against your thigh, growing harder from hearing your sweet sounds. he laps over the bud soothingly, and you sigh in bliss. seungcheol then pushes your blouse from your shoulders and removes your bra. his hands are quick to warm to your skin. he strokes your waist, placing gentle bitemarks along your collarbone.

“your body is so soft, baby, so beautiful.” he rumbles in his husky voice. “this is only for daddy to touch, hmm? only i can see you like this, sweetheart. isn’t that right?”

alongside the dizzying heat that infiltrates your head, there’s an intense slick pooling from your core. it soaks through your underwear, even forms a small wet mark on seungcheol’s sweatpants. you’ve never craved his affection to such an unfathomable extent.

“mmhm,” sounds your sultry whine, “o-only you, daddy. i only want you to touch me…”

seungcheol notes that your hips are grinding subtly against his cock. you reposition yourself slightly, attempting to feel that hardness press right against your core. seungcheol chuckles at your neediness. he finds it indescribably endearing, and it only makes him love you more.

“awe, baby,” he whispers in a molten tone by your ear, “are you eager, sweetheart? does daddy’s good girl want to feel my cock deep inside her? will that make her feel better?”

you’re practically drooling at the simple thought. you have to swallow the abundant saliva that gathers in your throat before humming a latent response. the thrumming between your thighs grows stronger, to a point where it inhibits your conversation. you want to reply to seungcheol, but you’re so drenched, so rightfully in need of his attention that your words keep melting on your tongue, like bits of cotton candy. seungcheol suddenly slides his hand between your legs.

“tell me what you need.” he urges, resting his forehead against yours, “you need daddy to touch you here, sweetheart?”

“y-yes,” you whimper as his fingers trace your folds over the fabric, “but not t-too much teasing, daddy – really wanna feel your cock.”

even just from the light grazing of his fingertips, seungcheol finds himself surprised by how thoroughly soaked you are. indulging in his curiosity, he presses his index and middle finger flat against your underwear, feeling the huge wet patch. at the slightest pressure against your clit, you keen out loudly and sense the overwhelmed tears prick your eyes. seungcheol licks his lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever been this wet. in response, his cock impossibly stiffens.

seungcheol chokes out, “you’re fucking soaked, sweetheart,” as he twists your underwear aside, running a finger through the abundant gloss.

“i really need you, daddy!” your face buries into his shoulder, the tears dampening his shirt.

he strokes your swollen clit with his fingertip, to which your hips spasm against his hand.

“pl-please fuck me!” you cry out, feeling seungcheol’s fingers massage circles against your aching bud. “c-can’t wait anymore, daddy! i need you so bad, it hurts…”

seungcheol cups your face, his thumb brushing away the tearful beads.

“are you sure you can take me already, sweetheart?” he asks, locking eyes with you. “i don’t want to hurt you.”

you nod doubtlessly in response. “i swear i can, daddy. you won’t hurt me. promise.”

seungcheol smiles at you and nods. you grab the arm of the couch and raise yourself marginally in order to let seungcheol adjust his sweatpants. he pulls them down a bit, then reaches into his underwear. he groans as soon as he wraps his hand around his length. just the mere sight of him creates a new wave of slick to douse your core, and you can’t dissuade your mind from thinking about how wonderful he’s going to feel fully fleshed within you.

evidently, seungcheol is just as aroused as you. the deep red shade to his cock has your stomach performing somersaults, especially as he pumps himself a few times, using the thick, white pearls of cum at his tip like a lubricant. you’re biting your lip, your heartbeat dancing sporadically in anticipation. seungcheol pushes away his black bangs and grins.

“you see how hard daddy is, baby? hm? you’re the only one who makes me feel this way, sweetheart. remember that, okay? now, let’s see my good little girl sink down on daddy’s cock.”

your face flickers with a sweltering heat. you grab seungcheol’s length and position him appropriately. then, with your teeth biting a bruise into your bottom lip, you start lowering your hips. the second seungcheol’s tip pushes against your clit, an unbridled moan escapes your chest. he loves whenever you rub his sensitive head between your folds. he loves watching his cum mix with your arousal, the incredibly obscene, filthy noises that the act preludes.

once you spread your thighs a little wider and proceed to sink down, down, down, seungcheol’s head falls back against the couch, his adam’s apple tensing. he clutches onto your hips with a steely strength, growling a dense array of curses. he’s right – you’ve never been this wet. you’re completely sopping and it drives him to an unprecedented level of insanity. when you’re seated right to the hilt, a shiver wracks down your spine and you need a moment to simply breathe.

“ff-fuck,” seungcheol grunts once you begin to roll your hips, “baby l-looks so pretty like this, stuffed with d-daddy’s cock. mmm, just like that, sweetheart. you feel ah-amazing.”

you slump forward into seungcheol’s chest and wind your arms around his neck. he hits so deep inside of you that you swear you can see his tip press against your abdomen. the sight makes you whine, cry and openly drool, to which seungcheol tenderly kisses the side of your head, whispering gentle praises. his hands slide down to your ass. he grabs you firmly and thrusts up into you, hearing your voice crack. a bolt of pleasure sears through your hot, glimmering flesh.

“mm-more, daddy,” you babble senselessly, each of your stresses being plucked free, “pl-please, g-give me m-more. ff-fuck me and f-fill me, daddy, please!”

“of course, baby,” seungcheol purrs, “daddy is going to take care of you, fill you n’make you feel really good, sweetheart. daddy loves you so much.”

everything starts coalescing into a blur of euphoria and heat. there’s not one part of your brain that ruminates on the tribulations of your workday. instead, you’re focused on how profoundly seungcheol loves you, how he treats you like you’re the most precious artifact in his life. you wish you could stay like this for an eternity, simply partaking in the other’s pleasure, and experiencing true bliss. you hold onto seungcheol even tighter, and let yourself fall into his care.

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